Fortunately, by the time of his entrapment, the accumulation of beetles and drowned worms had cooled our pedological ardors. After a lapse of many years, I recently returned to my home town. The sweetgum from which we stripped bark has recovered, contrary to the admonitions of Mr. Allen, the self-appointed forest steward of my childhood. Children are not as numerous now as they were during the baby boom, but their sylvan tendencies are apparently still strong. The big woods of my youth is just another example of much-beleaguered forest fragments.
Edge effects are rampant.
Populations of most native species are probably too small to avoid eventual extirpation, even if spared the impacts of exotics that are aggressively invading from all sides. The abundance of house cats suggests that even without the predatory whims of slingshot-wielding youths, the site would be a sink of birds and small mammals. I believe that, for a substantial number of environmentalists, childhood experiences in habitat patches such as I described were tremendously important. These fragments, no matter how degraded, are and will continue to be training grounds for naturalists. I also think that the concept of active management, broadened to reflect the inclinations and preferences of children, should be investigated and applied in woodlots, school forests, and other playgrounds.