There was something different about the National Parks and Wildlife's atmosphere. The temperature was a little more comfortable wih the trees providing shady protection against the late morning sunsting.

I was with a couple of friends who were training for basic photojournalism. I didn't have a camera, but I tagged a long just the same. I like the place, especially since it made me reminisce of my elementary days. The park was a convenient detour whenever tour organizers cancelled our visit to a scheduled itinerary. Anyway�

We settled under an elegant banyan tree's limbs before setting off for the photo shoot. After a while, they went their way and I went mine: it's to an old house made of brittle wood not too far off from where we camped. The structure stood out sorely desolate against the serene lagoon in the background.

Little did I know that I would find my would-be interviewees there, beyond the lagoon. They were around five, thin, suntanned boys whom I assumed were about six to ten years old. They cast handmade fishing rods into the water and waited for what I would later on find out as their supper. One held a slingshot and hurled pebbles farther off into the depths of the lagoon, mildly disturbing the cool surface with ripples.

One shouted victoriously as he lifted his rod. There dangled a helpless fish no larger than my palm. Alerted, some of my friends wandered to where I was quietly watching the flip-flopping fingerling and the boy, who also somersaulted so excitedly that for a moment I thought he was a fish out of the water, too.

After that piercing squeal of victory, the boy's skinny companions came rushing to his side, ogling at his catch. They laughed and teased each other; at one time they shoved each other into the water, hollering as they fell.

They were obviously having fun when suddenly, they scampered away. They ran so fast, I couldn't keep up with them-not while trying to watch them from a distance. It was then that curiosity got the better of me: I decided to follow them.

I walked around, tracing the familiar voices to a shaded shrine near the farthest boundary of the park. I kicked up a few dried leaves and noticed cracks on the soil. I couldn't believe I was chasing a couple of street urchins, but I suppose it was then a welcome alternative than just staying in the shade.

They didn't notice me when I came in. They were busy wrestling each other. I don't remember how I introduced myself, but I somehow managed to put in the fact that I had followed them from the lagoon; whatever transpired after that is what nosy people often term as an "interview."

The youngest in the group was ten, the eldest, 14. They looked too small for their age. They live beyond the park's boundary, a walking distance from where we were. They were squatters until the government granted them that strip of land.

One jokingly said, "Kawawa pag nagkasunog." I asked why.

"Nagkasunog doon sa kabilang dulo, sa bakery. Nakatulog ang panadero, e; siguro nasunog yung niluluto. Nadamay yung mga katabing bahay,kasi magkakasunud-sunod." Luckily they were at the other end, the fire did not reach them.

Asked if fishing in the lagoon was their daily routine, one of the boys answered no. "Pag wala lang maiulam," He pointed out.