My son helps me see beauty in slime

I had been in Sitka, Alaska, for a week, participating in a symposium on a weighty theme, As engaging as it was, the mix of presentations, discussions, and readings involved long sessions of sitting, talking, and thinking. I had already escaped to these woods three times, trying to clear my head.

They're beautiful woods, made more beautiful by the tall, powerfully carved totem poles that line their paths. Totem Park, it's called locally, this small peninsula of forest. Wide trails wend among huge temperate rainforest trees: Sitka spruce, western hemlock, Alaska yellow cedar.

Many trees have giant sculpted bases with the kinds of curves, caves, and arches that, as a child, I labeled the homes of wood elves. In the tradition of the Tlingits, the region's native American culture, such magical beings are called kushtakas.

On my solitary walks, I had looked at the totems and trees, read the interpretive signs, and walked the trails. Now I was here once more with my 9-year-old son, who had joined me in Sitka the day before. Despite his piteous protests, I dragged James out of our hotel room, where he had become transfixed by cable, stunned into watching a myriad of programs he doesn't get at home. As always, once he was away from the TV and into the woods, he forgot all about cable.

We came upon the gnarled bases of the great trees, and while I told him about kushtakas, he climbed through the arches, into the caves, and onto the horizontal limbs. As we walked on, he pointed out every possible home of a kushtaka. At the first totem, though, he was less than impressed and began complaining about being tired. So I made a game of it: Whoever spotted the next totem first got a point. The race was on, and we found a string of them quickly.

Then he found his first slug.

"Oh, yes, they're called banana slugs, and they're everywhere," I said. "Be careful not to step on them; they're slimy."

"Well, I don't want anyone else to step on it, Mom. Let's move it off the trail," he said.

"Oh, OK, but don't touch it. It's really slimy."

He found a couple of sticks, picked it up, and put it in the woods.

And so began the Banana Slug Rescue Project. James had to move every slug we found off the trail, so many slugs that he quickly abandoned the sticks for fingers. I participated in locating them, but not in handling them, and so another game ensued: Wipe slug slime on Mom.

Now, I'm not the kind of person who is usually squeamish about wild things. I like spiders. If I find one in the house, I'll let it be or move it to a better location. I've tried to teach my son to treat every living thing with respect. He doesn't step on ants, pull the wings off flies, or mistreat anything.

Which is why we were now saving slugs.

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