Bug day

Wednesday arrived with considerably less confidence than Monday had.

Mrs Brand no longer announced that the week was “properly organised.”

Experience had taught her that saying such things aloud was rather like telling a toddler, “Please don’t press that button.”

They always pressed the button.

Sometimes they found entirely new buttons to press too! 

At 6:12 a.m., she shuffled downstairs with her coffee to discover Barry already dressed.

This was deeply suspicious.

Normally Barry required approximately seventeen reminders, three negotiations, and at least one discussion about whether dinosaurs would have worn trousers.

Today he was waiting by the front door.

“Wake up!” he shouted to absolutely everyone. “Today’s Nature Day!”

Mrs Brand blinked.

“You’re excited.”

“I’ve got binoculars!”

“They’re toy binoculars.”

“They’re pretend powerful.”

“They’re made of plastic.”

“They’re camouflage.”

“They’re bright orange.”

Barry looked down.

“They’re… pretending to be camouflage.”

Three doors away, Marjory was having a rather different morning.

Marmaduke had insisted on wearing his explorer’s hat.

Unfortunately, Bubble the cat had decided it was now his bed.

Bubble was asleep inside it.

Quite deliberately.

Marjory gently lifted the hat.

Bubble remained asleep.

She tilted it.

Bubble rolled over.

She sighed.

“I’ve removed tumours from people’s brains that were easier to persuade than you.”

Bubble yawned.

Marmaduke looked hopeful.

“Can Bubble come bug hunting?”

“No.”

“He likes hunting.”

“He likes sleeping.”

“He could do both.”

The school field had been transformed overnight.

Yesterday’s camps had vanished.

Instead there were magnifying glasses, bug pots, clipboards, bird identification charts, binoculars and long stretches of rope marking off areas of long grass.

Leader Sarah clapped her hands.

“Today is all about nature.”

Barry’s hand shot up.

“Are there crocodiles?”

“No.”

“Foxes?”

“Possibly.”

“Bears?”

Leader Ben smiled.

“We’re still in North London.”

“Polite bears?”

“No polite bears either.”

Barry sighed dramatically.

“I keep asking.”

Alfie wandered off happily with the older Scouts.

Today’s challenge involved identifying trees, reading maps through woodland trails and recording bird species.

He already had a sharpened pencil.

(Of course he did – Nobody had ever been less likely to arrive with an unsharpened pencil.)

The Squirrels’ first activity was a bug hunt.

Leader Sarah handed each child a little bug pot with a magnifying lid.

“Remember,” she explained, “we’re only borrowing the insects. We look at them carefully and then we let them go.”

Barry nodded seriously.

“So no keeping them forever?”

“Definitely not.”

“What about just one?”

“No.”

“What if he wants to come home?”

“I promise you he doesn’t.”

The children spread across the field.

Immediately Barry turned over a log.

Nothing.

He lifted another.

A slug looked back at him with the unmistakable expression of someone whose breakfast had just been interrupted.

“Ooooh!”

“It’s a slug,” said Marmaduke.

“It looks slimy.”

“It is slimy.”

Barry leaned closer.

“I think he’s judging me.”

The slug almost certainly wasn’t.

Although if slugs could judge people, Barry would have provided endless material.

Marmaduke carefully peered beneath a flowerpot.

“I found something!”

Everyone hurried over.

It was an ant.

One ant.

Marmaduke whispered, “I don’t want to frighten him.”

Leader Ben smiled.

“He’s probably more frightened of you.”

Barry looked unconvinced.

“He’s got six legs.”

“So?”

“I’ve only got two.”

Within minutes Barry had discovered:

Two woodlice.

One earthworm.

Three ants.

A beetle.

Something that turned out to be a raisin.

“I don’t think raisins count,” said Leader Sarah.

“They’re wildlife.”

“They’re somebody’s lunch.”

“They’re wild now.”

Meanwhile Marmaduke found a ladybird.

He stared at it with enormous concentration.

“It has spots.”

“It does.”

“I wonder if they’re painted on.”

Leader Sarah laughed.

“No.”

Barry whispered,

“We should ask.”

“You can’t ask a ladybird.”

“We can be polite.”

He leaned very close.

“Excuse me…”

The ladybird flew away.

“I think she was shy.”

Further along the field, Alfie was quietly identifying oak leaves.

Scout Leader Martin nodded approvingly.

“What bird’s that?”

Alfie listened.

“Robin.”

“Excellent.”

“And over there?”

Alfie looked up.

“Wood pigeon.”

“Very good.”

Barry, overhearing from thirty metres away, shouted,

“I KNOW A PIGEON!”

“You don’t need to shout.”

“I wanted the pigeon to know.”

The next activity for the Squirrels was bird watching.

The children sat quietly beside the school wildlife garden.

Leader Ben whispered,

“Now remember…”

“We have to be quiet,” whispered Barry.

“Exactly.”

Everyone settled.

Silence.

A robin landed nearby.

A blackbird hopped through the grass.

Some blue tits flitted between bushes.

Leader Sarah smiled.

“This is wonderful.”

Barry whispered very loudly,

“I CAN SEE HIS BOTTOM.”

Every bird within fifty metres immediately left.

Leader Ben slowly closed his eyes.

The second attempt went much better.

This time Barry managed almost forty-three seconds without speaking.

A personal record.

Marmaduke carefully pointed.

“I can hear one.”

“What does it sound like?”

“…Birdy.”

Leader Sarah nodded.

“That’s… technically correct.”

They spotted:

A robin.

A blackbird.

A magpie.

Several pigeons.

A pair of noisy crows.

Barry insisted one squirrel was “basically a fluffy bird.”

Nobody could entirely follow the logic.

After a snack break came the indoor activity.

The children gathered in the school hall to watch a short film about British wildlife.

Foxes.

Badgers.

Hedgehogs.

Barn owls.

Bees.

Butterflies.

Slow worms.

Dormice.

The film explained why habitats mattered.

Why ponds should stay clean.

Why hedgerows were important.

Why people should leave wild corners in gardens.

Why litter hurt animals.

Why bugs were actually rather important.

Barry watched carefully.

Usually Barry considered sitting still a personal insult.

Today he hardly moved.

When the video finished, Leader Sarah asked,

“So… why do animals need habitats?”

Marmaduke raised his hand.

“So they know where their house is.”

“Exactly.”

Barry’s hand shot up.

“And because hedgehogs don’t fit very well in supermarkets.”

Leader Ben smiled.

“No…”

“…although that’s probably true.”

Leader Sarah held up a crisp packet.

“What happens if somebody drops litter?”

Barry answered immediately.

“The squirrel gets annoyed.”

“It might.”

“The hedgehog gets poorly.”

“Yes.”

“The pigeon tells everyone you’re naughty.”

Leader Ben grinned.

“I’m less certain about that part.”

Outside again, the children built tiny model habitats.

Twigs.

Leaves.

Stones.

Moss.

Small sticks.

Barry became completely absorbed.

“This one’s for beetles.”

“What about that one?” asked Marmaduke.

“Luxury worms.”

Leader Sarah wandered over.

“Luxury worms?”

“They deserve nice things.”

“I can’t really argue with that.”

Nearby, Alfie’s group built bird feeders.

He measured the string carefully.

Tied another perfect knot.

Scout Leader Martin smiled.

“I think you’re collecting badges faster than we can sew them on.”

Alfie looked quietly pleased.

“I like getting things right.”

“So we’ve noticed.”

The final challenge of the day was simple.

Every child had to find one thing in nature they hadn’t noticed before.

Children wandered off quietly.

Some found feathers.

Others noticed different leaves.

One spotted a spider’s web sparkling in the sunshine.

Barry disappeared behind a hedge.

Leader Sarah counted heads.

One…

Two…

Three…

“…Where’s Barry?”

There was rustling.

Then Barry emerged.

Holding absolutely nothing.

“I found a smell.”

Leader Sarah blinked.

“A smell?”

“Fox.”

“You saw a fox?”

“No.”

“You smelled one?”

“I think so.”

Leader Ben sniffed.

“…That’s actually the compost heap.”

Barry looked disappointed.

“They smell similar.”

“I don’t think you know what foxes smell like.”

“I do now.”

As parents arrived to collect everyone, Leader Sarah gave out tiny “Nature Explorer” certificates.

Every child had learned something.

Every child had respected the wildlife.

Every child had remembered to release every bug they’d borrowed.

Leader Sarah knelt beside Barry.

“You did really well today.”

“I didn’t keep any insects.”

“You didn’t.”

“I nearly adopted a worm.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I let him choose.”

Leader Sarah smiled.

“That was kind.”

Walking home through the park, Barry suddenly stopped.

A bee buzzed lazily between flowers.

He watched it for nearly a whole minute.

Mrs Brand smiled.

“What are you thinking?”

“He looks busy.”

“He is.”

“I didn’t know bees worked so hard.”

“They help flowers grow.”

Barry nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m glad we didn’t accidentally sit on him.”

“So am I.”

Back in Marjory’s garden, Bubble was conducting his own wildlife survey.

He was staring very intently underneath the shed.

His tail twitched.

Barry tiptoed over.

“What have you found?”

Bubble didn’t answer.

Naturally.

Cats prefer mystery.

They’ve spent thousands of years perfecting it.

Marmaduke whispered,

“I think he’s looking for a mouse.”

Bubble’s ears flicked.

Mrs Brand quickly intervened.

“Let’s leave Bubble to it.”

“Why?”

“Because nature sometimes prefers an audience that’s a little quieter.”

Barry looked offended.

“We’re extremely quiet.”

At that exact moment Marmaduke sneezed so loudly that three pigeons took off from next door’s roof, Bubble disappeared under the fence in disgust, and a startled squirrel shot up the nearest tree like a furry rocket.

Mr Brand looked over the top of his newspaper.

“I don’t think David Attenborough has very much to worry about.”

That evening, Alfie carefully added another completed activity sheet to his Scout folder.

Barry proudly pinned his Nature Explorer certificate to the fridge with two magnets, just in case one wasn’t enough.

Mrs Brand stood back and smiled.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“You’ve all had a brilliant day.”

Barry grinned.

“I learned bugs are important.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“Birds need homes.”

Alfie added, “And looking after nature means looking after ourselves too.”

Mrs Brand smiled warmly.

“Exactly.”

Barry thought for a moment.

“Can we make our garden better for wildlife?”

Mr Brand looked up.

“That’s actually a wonderful idea.”

Marjory laughed.

“As long as Barry doesn’t decide wildlife would appreciate a treehouse with central heating.”

Barry’s eyes widened.

“They probably would.”

Mr Brand immediately pointed a finger.

“No.”

“I haven’t even explained it.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I was only thinking…”

“That’s exactly how every adventure starts.”

Everyone laughed.

Outside, the evening birds settled into the hedges, the bees returned to their hives, Bubble resumed his silent patrol of the gardens, and somewhere beneath the compost heap, several perfectly content worms continued enjoying what Barry had confidently described as their “luxury housing.”

For once, nobody had broken anything.

Nobody had burned lunch.

Nobody had destroyed a tent.

Instead, two four-year-olds had discovered that the smallest creatures often had the biggest jobs.

It wasn’t the most exciting lesson Barry had ever learned.

But it might just have been one of the most important.

And, with Thursday promising campfires, simple first aid and a little more independence, Mrs Brand had the distinct feeling that the week’s remarkable run of peaceful endings probably wasn’t going to last.