Photo courtesy of Jim Schafer Evan Calkin, 13, hoists the makings of a fish-fry supper on a recent camping/fishing trip in Western Pennsylvania.

Looking now at his photograph, I'm glad I was there.

He's hoisting a string of plump sunfish up near his ruffled red hair, his stance and expression confident but not triumphant.

His right hand holds the rod, easily, as one carries a familiar tool. In the background are the water and the woods where he is so comfortable and adept.

He is young, he's from a city -- or near one -- and at home outdoors.

His name is Evan and being with him incites you to wonder if you dreamed all the dire news about kids falling out of touch with the Earth. The techno-marketers have not yet reached them all.

Evan is my good friend Jim's 13-year-old nephew. He lives outside Philadelphia where his circumstances prevent frequent contact with nature in the raw. When Evan visits Western Pennsylvania, Jim takes him on dog-training trips with his English setter, Sunny. He tagged along last fall and saw Jim and Sunny team up on pheasants and grouse, and he talks about that a lot.

Evan, Jim and I spent a recent weekend fishing and camping at a lake in the hills. The two adults in our group could not have hoped for a more eager companion. Evan paddled the kayak with youthful grace and handled the canoe like a 21st century voyageur. Watching him push the craft from shore, then effortlessly vault over the stern into paddling position was a reminder of what the young human body can do. Later, glancing up from some camp chore, I saw him playing a fish with his left hand while deftly maneuvering the craft with his right.

He caught a dozen crappies as broad as a hand -- my hand, not his -- some pot-bellied largemouth bass and enough big bluegills to underscore why the bass in that lake grow pot-bellies. They live atop a fertile food chain.

Evan missed none of that. A scientist's observant curiosity blends with his angling skill.

"You can tell these fish are good predators, but also prey for larger fish," he observed while helping me clean a mess of crappies for supper. "When you press on their eyes the pupils move around in all directions."

There's a poet within him, too. He and I paddled quietly along the shore at dusk, watching the moon mount the hills beyond. Evan caught the mood and stayed mostly silent, but turned his head halfway back toward me and whispered, "Look at where the trees meet their reflection on the lake. There's a faint band of mist rising up that looks like smoke, or ghosts."

He brought along no video games, cell phone or electronic entertainment; never mentioned them. The only music in our camp ushered forth from birds and frogs. But Evan proudly produced a combination measuring tape/scale/flashlight any time one of those components was needed. His pocketknife showed obvious care.

A quiet maturity rounds out Evan's outdoor enthusiasm. He knows it isn't all about fun. He's as eager to cook a meal or split firewood as he is to fish.

Sunny and my family's beagle, Ginny, came along on the trip. Evan looked out for them both, picking off ticks and offering fresh water. After the five of us shared a generous mound of golden-fried fish fillets, we sat around the campfire and listened to the dogs howl back at screech owls wailing in the woods.

"How did you get interested in the outdoors?" I asked Evan.

"It just kind of sprung up on me," he said. "Maybe it started when I was young and my brother and I hunted frogs with sharp sticks."

Listening to a 13-year-old reflect on his own past youth is one of the impromptu joys of campfire conversation.

Like many before him who lived tuned to the natural world, Evan notices and wonders about change. "They're cutting down all the trees in the woods down the street where I like to go," he said. "I found a young hawk there that seemed to be lost."

But after such a moment he is likely to pick up a rod or fix his attention on a bird in the branches, immersed in the present and alive to the place.

He is the natural born outdoorsman, drawn to the Earth in spite of all the modern obstacles we presume to be in his way. He doesn't even notice them. He takes in the wild when and wherever he can.