Volunteers bring life to Pisgah's bounty.

Byline: THE OUTSIDER By John Rezell The Register-Guard

Harold Schyberg plucked a fir cone from the ground and held it up for inspection by the group of hikers from Mr. Nyegaard's fifth-grade class as we explored Mount Pisgah on a field trip from Bertha Holt Elementary School.

Harold asked if anyone knew how to identify a cone from a Douglas Fir as opposed to, say, a typical pine cone. He pretty much received the type of response you would expect from some fifth graders.

Even some who knew, such as my daughter Sierra, hesitated. Without batting an eye, Harold dug into a story that we've heard a handful of times in our first year here, but never seem to mind hearing again.

Old Mother Fir, of course, got tired of having little mice crawling all over her, stealing the seeds from her cones. So she ordered all of her cones shut tight. When the cones responded, they trapped the mice inside the cone. If you look closely, you can see their hind legs and tails caught in the layers of the cone.

One of the mothers chaperoning at my side cracked a pleasant smile and raised her eyebrows.

"I've never heard that before," she said, sounding happily fulfilled.

I looked around and most of the kids smiled, too. Even Sierra.

We continued on, moving along the Coast Fork of the Willamette River. Every time we crunched an acorn or two, the boys would scurry nose down like squirrels, looking for an acorn "hat" to offer to Harold, in hopes it was perfect for him to turn into a whistle.

Harold explained to us about lichen, which hosts both algae and fungi working in a symbiotic relationship.

"What's symbiosis mean?" Harold asked time and again.

As typical with fifth graders, sometimes he got answers, sometimes he didn't.

He showed us Oregon grapes, and how they nearly always grow beneath trees, where their seeds have been deposited by bird droppings. Harold showed his vast experience with fifth graders, noting a lot of "upchucks" and "droppings" from the natural order of things to keep the audience riveted.

We chewed on licorice lichen, and picked up and felt nearly every leaf or branch we could find on the ground, always, of course, replacing it for the next group of explorers to enjoy.

We strolled through the oak savanna, and the mother noted how amazing Mount Pisgah is - that even though we arrived with a number of classes from Holt to a parking lot nearly full, it seemed, for the most part, that we had the large park all to ourselves.

It says a lot about this area, all the nature that sits at our disposal - not to mention the vast roster of volunteers. I suppose I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, constantly fawning over the grand outdoor stage we have here.

But understand this: I've lived a lot of places in this grand country, and visited 43 of our 50 states. There aren't many places like this, spots where our connection to Mother Nature feels as alive as the crawling, hopping, swimming frogs that captivated our group for a good 10 minutes - nearly a lifetime in a fifth-grader's perspective.

Harold eventually led us back to the parking lot, where we met up with the many other groups who were also escorted around this place by engaging volunteers.

You could feel the energy of our experiences. I know most of the kids won't remember most of the stories and lessons of the day. But they will remember something. And that's what keeps the connection alive. Something I remember whenever I see those tiny hind legs and tails tucked inside a fir cone.

John Rezell, aka Raz, joins readers on outdoors adventures and writes about it weekly. Invite him along with you at [e-mail].