Back in my day, “going outside” didn’t mean sitting on a screened-in porch with Wi-Fi and a juice pouch. No sir. It meant vanishing into the woods with a can of Vienna sausages, a half-flattened tent from somebody’s shed, and a vague promise to be back by dark – or whenever the mosquitoes carried us home.
We didn’t need fancy apps to identify birds or plants. We had one rule: if it smelled like a s…