The Dancing Trees
The Dancing Trees
Readers are introduced to this story by way of a double set of endpapers charmingly illustrated with soft images of small woodland creatures, tree branches, and leaves. On closer inspection, readers can also see a litter of discarded food wrappers and crumpled plastic bottles.
Next, readers meet a group of friends, older kids who look to be 11 or 12. They are fooling around on bikes and generally enjoying a fall day in the outdoors. But Avery is disgusted by brother Thomas who is watching the others play while kicking back on a log. She asks him not to throw his garbage on the ground, invoking the words of their grandmother who has told them to show respect for the earth by picking up after themselves.
Thomas ignores Avery and her nagging and takes up spinning yarns to his pals about his expertise at fishing, hunting and pathfinding. But the crowd is skeptical.
“Go into the forest alone for a night with only a backpack
and come home without any help,” replied Sean.
Thomas was caught off guard. No one had ever asked him to prove himself
before. He couldn’t believe what Sean had just said, but he couldn’t back down.
Thomas sets off, marking his way with pieces of string tied to branches, pieces of bark he strips from trees he passes – and some granola bar wrappers, too, which he carelessly tosses aside. He eventually finds a clearing, proudly sets up his camp with a lean-to made of spruce boughs, and settles down to sleep.
During the night, the wind rises, and the trees, angered by the boy’s carelessness, come alive. They have uprooted themselves and hemmed Thomas in on all sides so that when, in the morning, he tries to find his way home, he becomes completely disoriented by rain and gloom. He even tries his GPS, but his cellphone battery is dead. His wandering brings him back to his original campsite.
Another night in the woods brings a little clearing of the weather and a resolve by Thomas to take things in hand. He begins to explore his surroundings, foraging some berries and spruce gum.
He…said his thanks to the forest for providing for him.
His grandmother and cultural teachers always talked about how the land
could provide for us. If we treat the land with respect and only take what
we need, the land will always be there…
As he chewed his spruce gum and sat down, he finally realized
what a mess he had made, as he saw all the wrappers, bits of tree
bark and broken branches that he had left on the ground.
Thomas begins the clean-up, then prepares for another night in the camp. His reversal of thinking satisfies the looming trees.
So, while Thomas slept, the trees once again picked up their roots,
dancing and swaying to the beat of their own making, and
stretched back into the ground where they had been before.
The trees finished creaking, their branches swooshing as they
settled into place, ending their dance in the dark.
Come morning, Thomas is able to follow the trail he had originally made and find his way back to a familiar road The conclusion rather abruptly spells out Thomas’ epiphany, how he now “picks up after himself, only used what he needed, ate just enough for himself, and remembered to say thanks for what he was given”.
Kelly has placed her lesson in a contemporary setting. Thomas is a familiar modern boy, with a hoodie, a cell phone and a who-cares attitude, and his impulses to just let things go will be understandable to the reader. The animism in the woods he ventures into, where the dancing trees uproot themselves and act to teach the boy their truth, takes readers into the realm of a more traditional tale. Some of the attempts to use poetic language are a bit strained.
Simpson’s clear, unsophisticated illustrations use a full-colour palette to show the varying moods of the surroundings. Thomas and friends look like the figures from a bicycle safety leaflet, but the depiction of nature is detailed and true-to-life, and the dancing trees are certainly frightening when they express their displeasure at this human who is despoiling the forest.
This purposive book is mostly useful for its First Nations theme and message. The age of the characters may make The Dancing Trees appealing to older children who are less confident readers.
Ellen Heaney is a retired children’s librarian living in Coquitlam, British Columbia, where the tall conifers dance and sway but so far have remained in place.