a Hundred meters in front of the hoard of the night, the spirits of birds, chirping crickets and tire chirping blackberries. Of Tomorrow in the fields of ancient grove is sky blue, and smells of sun-warmed hedges and meadows. We are on a scavenger hunt, and so far, no man has met.
Florentine Fritzen
editor in the Rhein-Main-Zeitung.
F. A. Z.
a half hour Ago, we parked the car in the Parking lot at the bottom of the place, is a district of Bad Soden. We climbed up a mountain, past the elementary school, in the summer of of sleep, and the first Station of the “nature on track”. Thus, the route of questions in the categories “Small” and “Large”, the Greens, Bad Soden until the end of the month offer. Everyone goes alone or with his family, headed by an expression of the scavenger hunt from the Internet or with the help of the QR-Codes to stick to the stations and with the mobile phone to be scanned.
“Why, there are hotels for Insects?”
Like the insect hotel behind the school. It deep down mowing sheep stands on the edge of a gorge. The question of “Small -” find the Little one in the group Laugh: “How many floors are there in the insect hotel?” Which are quickly counted, but the question of “Big” are we talking any longer: “Why, there are hotels for Insects?” A few information on the expression. Us even more reasons why insects are important.
We write everything on a Notepad and draw more sticks to the bees. The question of “Small” provides, once again, for giggles: “What sticks in the bees in there?” After we have talked about the consequences of bees dying, we March in the direction of Station 3: the lair of the night should be ghosts. It is only now that a man comes to meet us. The Jogger in the neon shirt that keeps two small dogs on a leash and up struggling up the hill. We are immersed in a wooded realm of shadows. Suddenly everything is dark green and cooling. We read that we are in the source region of the Sulzbachs. This was originally a Eisweiher. In the Winter the ice has been harvested and in drive cellars stored, until it was in the summer of Frankfurt’s Breweries to sell.
it is A sad sight
In a tree, a character with the drive of arms, the Orb, and behind the night-ghosts-home-hangs in front: a bat box. We point fingers, how tiny dwarf bats. The wing span not more than two and a half inches wide. Back in the sun. We climb from the rear over a grassy hill to the old water plant on a slope, the down look at the front of us queasy. Compared to a man in brown hens from the Chickens on the Meadow. The cattle Clucks vividly, in the here of the Totenweg is. Until the 16th century. Century-old Hainer brought their dead this way to the churchyard to the neighbouring village, with the cutting grove. We also learn that an ancient grove then belonged to the territory of the province of Limburg Abbot. Behind the black grating of a chapel of the tomb of lights and artificial flowers available.
The Bad Sodener Greens have not let it take in the scavenger hunt to add to the other Dead at the Totenweg. The sight is sad: In a series of high spruce green and withered trees alternate. How exactly is that related to the bark beetle and climate change, have not known the Younger in the group in advance. Now you write the answer before we turn to an orchard. We see plums, pears and mirabelle plums, but not the promised Rowan, the Apple-wine-lovers among us have discovered.
