To be a boy

Does he have the space to be a boy? To break things, to build things, to wrestle, to climb, to create—and yes, even to destroy? Boys are wired with energy that spills out of them, sometimes louder and messier than we expect. They need more than permission to move; they need places where their energy isn’t a disruption but a gift.

For us, that space is the wilderness. Here in beautiful Southeast Alaska, the forest, ocean, and mountains aren’t just backdrops—they’re a playground. Hiking trails turn into obstacle courses. Rivers invite fishing poles and skipped rocks. The woods welcome forts built out of driftwood and fallen branches. Even the beach is a treasure chest, waiting to be combed for shells, bones, critters, and weathered glass. Out here, no one scolds them for being too loud or too rough. The wild doesn’t mind—it absorbs their noise, their curiosity, their experiments.

Hunting, foraging, camping—these aren’t just pastimes. They’re ways boys learn to test their strength, sharpen their senses, and connect with something bigger than themselves. When they help haul in a salmon or gather berries along a trail, they’re not just “burning energy.” They’re learning responsibility, patience, and gratitude for the land that sustains them.

Compare that to the spaces where boys are often told to sit down, be quiet, behave. Schools ask for longer stretches at desks, which is a necessary skill set too. For a proper honest education. But, screens tether them indoors. Even at home, it can feel like we’re always urging them to calm down instead of giving them room to express the raw energy pulsing through their bodies. Of course, there’s a time for quiet and discipline. But there must also be time for adventure—for scraped knees, muddy boots, and hands sticky from fish slime or berry juice.

The wilderness gives that balance naturally. Out here, boys don’t just play; they become. They test their courage climbing beach rocks. They learn respect when watching an eagle soar overhead or a bear track imprinted in the mud. They discover that their bodies are strong, their imaginations are endless, and the world is wide and worth exploring.

Does he have the space to be a boy? In Southeast Alaska, the answer is yes—if we let the wilderness raise them as much as we do. Boys don’t need perfection, and they don’t need constant correction. They need room: room to grow, room to try, room to fail, and room to live fully in the wildness that matches their own.

Because someday, that boy who smashed and climbed and explored will grow into a man who carries confidence, resilience, and a deep connection to the land. But first, he must be given the gift of space—the space to be a boy.