The first streaks of the sun slant down over the ridge and rouse you from deep sleep to greet a new day. You stretch and worm out of you sleeping bag to dress for the day. Outside your tent you pause to drink in the glory of the sunrise, and fill your lungs deep with the clean mountain air.
Suddenly you notice a slight movement in an upwind thicket. Gradually you make out a young deer grazing peacefully. Why, with all its sharp sense of smell and hearing, has it not noticed you?
You know, it is because you’re a Scout.
It has rained during the night, but inside you tent you have been dry and comfortable. The rivulets racing down the hillside have failed to get in under you shelter. How did you protect yourself?
You know, it is because you’re a Scout.
Breakfast time. How do you get dry wood? How do you build your fire? How do you fry bacon and flip you flapjacks?
You know, it is because you’re a Scout.
Camp cleaned up, you and your buddies hit the trail with a light pack and a silent step. You see birds and animals, insects and fish, at home in their natural haunts. Are those raccoon or mink tracks in the muddy trail? Why is this tree trunk badly scarred, and that one full of tuffs of animal hair? Is that a teal, a mallard or a loon?
You leave the trail behind you. You chuckle together as you recall the lost Indian who, when found by his friends, said: “Ugh, Me no lost. Wigwam lost!” You’re not lost either. You can find you way with your map and compass, and my reading the signs of the woods.
Evening falls, and you sit around the campfire with the other fellows. You spin yarns, sing old favorite songs, plan big things for tomorrow. Perhaps you don’t know why you feel so good all over.
But you know, it is because you’re a Scout.