We take kids out for night hikes where we play cool games ("Recognize Your Rock", "Owl & Mouse", "Bat & Moth") and learn cool facts (triboluminescence can be generated by crunching down on a Wint-O-Green Lifesaver -- try this in the dark in front of the mirror), and there's one part of the hike where we break out the pirate eye-patch. The point is to cover your night-adapted eye with your hand (which functions as a pirate eye-patch) and listen to a story while the uncovered eye re-adapts to light by looking at a white-light lantern. I like to tell a pirate story about our pirate ship attacking another pirate ship, and we're swashbuckling out on the sunny deck, taking prisoners and yelling "yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum". But then when we pirates go below deck to look for the treasure, we are plunged into darkness (turn off the lantern)...but then I tell them to change their pirate patch to the other eye, and look around. The covered eye is still dark-adapted and they can see the difference between the two eyes.
Been seeing tons of birds coming through, Canada Warblers, Northern Gannets, Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers, Blue-headed Vireos, Merlins, Baltimore Orioles, maybe a Tennessee Warbler, and a thrush that I thought was a Hermit until I looked in Sibley and saw how many Catharus Thrushes there are out here that look exactly the same (argh!).
So, we had 105 kids on campus last week. At one point I was in charge of 20 sixth graders in the dark. Hella crazy, but we all had fun in the end. Teaching is stressful, exasperating, challenging and rewarding. I highly recommend that all you field scientists get some experience in outreach. It's one of the most important aspects of conservation. And kids, when they're not whining or asking questions designed to push your buttons, are way more fun and interesting than many adults. There's one program I give about landscape change that I really enjoy. We walk around on a big UTM map, learn how to calculate UTM coordinates, play "lichens-shrubs-trees" (a rock-paper-scissors game that demonstrates forest succession), take GPS points in the forest and then put them into mapping software. And while we're walking around, every now and then I get to point to the sky and yell "Sharpie!" as one flies overhead. The kids heads snap up and they're all like, "Whoa, cool!" and then we talk a bit about migration and how awesome birds are.
So, suffice to say that things are great, but I definitely miss field work: the relative solitude, the intellectual stimulus, the colleagues, and the birds.