Oregon Forest Talks
"Oregon Forest Talks" is a children's song about the forests of Northwestern Oregon — the towering firs, the misty mountain trails, the Steller's jays and the crows — and how to hike them safely by learning to listen.
It starts with boots on the trail.
I've hiked hundreds of miles through Northwestern Oregon. Fir forests, river canyons, fog so thick the trees disappear above you. And somewhere along all those miles, I learned something that changed the way I hike: the forest talks. Not in a storybook way — in a real way. The birds, the branches, the rivers, the sudden silences. Every sound out there is information, if you know how to hear it.
Boots on the trail, nice and slow, Tall green trees and rivers flow, Step by step, we look around, The forest makes a talking sound.
That was the feeling. Hundreds of miles of it.
The first voice I ever learned was the Steller's jay.
That sharp, bold squak-squak-squak from up in the branches — once you know it, you hear it everywhere in the Northwest. And then the crows answering from another tree, caw, caw, caw. Here's the part most people never learn: those birds aren't just making noise. They're a warning network. Birds call from tree to tree when something big is moving through the woods. The forest has its own alarm system, and it's been running for a lot longer than we've been hiking in it.
Birds can warn from tree to tree, If a big animal's near you and me.
That's the heart of the whole song: every sound is nature signaling.
So I wrote it for kids — because this is how the woods should be learned.
Not from a scary lecture. From a song you can actually sing on the trail. The trees "talk," the rivers "remind," and the trail becomes the teacher. Forest safety in the is real — we share these woods with bears and cougars — but it should feel magical, not frightening. Kids who love the forest grow into adults who respect it and protect it. That starts with curiosity, not fear.
And tucked inside the melody are the real rules, the ones that matter:
When we hike, we make some noise, Talk with friends — girls and boys, Let the animals know we're there, So we don't surprise a bear.
Make noise so nothing is surprised. Stay in your group, big and tall in any weather. Pack your water. Listen to the grown-ups leading the way. And the two lines I most want every Northwest kid to carry with them:
If you see a cougar near, Stand up tall and show no fear. If you see a bear, don't run — Never run from either one.
Never run. Stay calm and slow — wild ones chase when people go. Make yourself look big and strong, keep your group moving along. Those aren't just lyrics. That's genuine trail safety, the same guidance rangers give, set to a chorus a five-year-old can sing back to you.
The heart of the song is a gift I want to pass on.
The forest taught me over hundreds of miles what this song teaches in a few minutes: awareness and harmony. You don't hike through the woods — you hike with them. You listen. You look. You stay alert along the way. And when you learn the forest's language, the trail stops being a place you visit and becomes a friend that talks to you the whole way up.
Ohhh… the forest talks when we go hiking, Every sound is nature signaling, Listen… look… carefully — We hike with awareness and harmony.
"Oregon Forest Talks" is about those woods.
Northwestern Oregon. The towering firs and the misty paths. The Steller's jay squawking bold from the branches. The crows calling back. The rivers reminding. Kids hiking loud and proud and together, learning the same lessons the trail spent hundreds of miles teaching me.
This is how I learned the woods. Now it's a song.
And for a few minutes, the whole family is on the trail.
Boots moving.
Jays calling.
Everybody singing.
Still listening.
Still looking.
Still hiking — awareness and harmony.
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