Recently by Charlie Stretton

Hiding behind the sofa with my brother and sister, a cushion held up against my face protecting myself from the awful spectre, I watched Dr Who every week, terrified beyond belief by the Daleks and Cybermen. Then after that, a quick cup of tea (for there was no Sunny Delight in those days) to calm our shaking nerves and we'd all run out onto the common to dam little streams and watch butterflies emerging from their chrysalis (or is it chrysalii?). We'd know where the birds were nesting and the best place to find blackberries, where the dogs hadn't weed on the bushes. And if there was the odd maggot in the blackberry, it didn't bother us.

We were kids before the era of sell-by dates, of the Internet, even before colour television. We had a huge 'roam radius' (the distance our parents would allow us to wander from the house) , and our curfew was 'be home before dark'. We lived and breathed nature and the seasons, we got dirty and cold and wet, we scuffed our knees and still survived to tell the tale.

Nowadays, according to a National Trust survey, children spend so little time outdoors that they can identify a Dalek for more readily than they can a magpie. Fear of strangers and of abduction, the lure of computer games, reality TV shows, and virtual entertainment have combined to breed a generation of children who rarely venture beyond the garden gate, let alone climb trees and build rickety dens in the woods. They are a generation suffering from NDD - Nature Deficit Disorder. This term was coined by Richard Louv in his book "Last Child In The Woods" to describe the negative effects on children of not experiencing unfettered "nature play" or "nature nurture" (jumping across streams, playing in the mud, getting hands and feet dirty). The symptoms of NDD are clear - ADD (attention deficit disorder), obesity, lack of creativity, independence and/or confidence, feelings of disconnection from the natural world and a disrespect for living things.

This is why the RSPB invests so much into its field teaching programme. We do literally teach in the field - and the wood, and the mud, and the grass, and the pond (well, maybe not so literally in the pond). We teach out in the sun, and the rain, and the fog, and sometimes in the snow. We take children out with their teachers and parents, and show them the incredible world that's right under their feet, all around them and over their head. A world which some of them - most of them - have never seen before. Kids literally jump up and down with excitement on catching a stickleback, or collapse in giggles when a mallard sticks its bum in the air and its head in the water, searching for lunch. They are fascinated by the odd maggot-infested seagull corpse, while parents and teachers recoil in horror.

We're not here to teach them Latin names and classification systems. We're here to show them life in its many forms, and how every living thing is connected in some way. We teach them respect and care for tiny bugs, for worms and bees and earwigs and magpies. We want them to love and appreciate the natural world. It's a pretty tall order, but it's encouraging that so many schools and families visit the Reserve, with numbers increasing every year. Come along if you haven't been here already and see what's going on. I can't guarantee any Daleks, but you will definitely encounter a whole other bunch of amazing and weird life forms! No need to travel to foreign galaxies...just off Junction 18 of the A55 will do. See you soon.