Meet Stick Nation: The online community bonding with sticks

Random strangers riffing about sticks? Really? What’s there to say? Aren’t they all essentially the same: brown and predictably stick-like? Nature’s detritus… the bits a tree no longer wanted?

That’s what I used to think. But three videos in, and I find myself strangely stuck. After binge-watching five more there’s no denying it. I’m a convert. Honestly, who (over the age of eight) knew that sticks could be so twiggin’ amazing?

Forest nymph alert

There are formidable full-length staffs that wouldn’t look astray in the gnarled clasp of an aged wizard, epic moss-covered Arthurian swords, primeval slingshots, Neptune’s trident, a ‘seagull stick’ that can flap its little stick-wings and a gorgeous little stunner studded with tiny orange mushrooms, as if hand-planted there by a forest nymph.

One of my favorites (yes, I now have an opinion on the topic) is a smooth eye-shaped specimen with a hole inside pitched as the “eye of the beholder”. A quick demo from its finder reveals how you can peer through it “to see the world in a different light”.

Despite these endless variations and imaginative interpretations, what they have in common is that they’re all “handcrafted by nature”, as one contributor enthuses. And to think these amazing beauties are just lying on some forest floor, patiently awaiting appreciative eyes.

I am not the only convert. The community has grown exponentially. In the space of just one year, Stick Nation has expanded to 3 million and there’s a book deal in the pipeline.

Founders Boone Hogg and Logan Jugler are dumbfounded by the incredible interest. It started out as a single impromptu video of Logan extolling the virtues of a stick found during a hike in their home state of Utah. Boone posted it the next day. With Logan then moving to California, swapping stick videos and posting them became a nice way for the friends to stay in touch.

“There was no real audience. It was just a group of friends joking around and was never intended to be something bigger,” Boone says. Soon, other people started following them and sending in their stick reviews too.

Whatever gets you outside

Why do they think it resonates with so many people? For Boone it’s the simple joy. “Everyone remembers being a kid and finding a cool stick that looked like a sword or something. This is just a little reminder that that feeling still exists and you can still tap back into it whenever you want.” It also gets you outside and interacting with the natural world around you, he adds. “I think humans need that. We’re part of the natural world and it’s awe-inspiring every time you’re out there.”

It’s an important point, especially considering the startling decline in time spent outside. A recent survey found that nearly one in five Americans spends less than 15 minutes a day outdoors, despite the many known benefits, which include: reducing inflammation, blood pressure and anxiety. Just a 20-minute garden stroll can already boost cognition and memory while improving feelings of well-being.

Perhaps this also accounts for the popularity. With so many of us evidently struggling to go outside, perhaps watching others out on their rambles is the next-best thing? A breath of fresh air, even seen through a screen? On top of that, there’s something so comforting in knowing that, despite our modern sedentary lives largely lived indoors behind laptops, some ancient part of our brain is still able to recognise and celebrate a good stick when we see it. It’s what originally elevated us as a species, you could argue.

Stick, branch, log or tree?

So what makes a stick great? First, there’s an ongoing question of what counts as a stick. When is it actually a branch or a log? Humans being humans, there are those who can get very caught up in these technicalities, with lively discussions in the comments. Recently someone made a convincing case for a giant icicle as a stick (a very cool stick) and there’s an elderly man whose favorite stick still happens to be attached to a tree. On Stick Nation, it’s all good.

“If it gets your imagination going, it’s a good stick. It’s about what resonates with you,” Boone says. “We call it ‘the aura’ of the stick, something unspeakable that can only be felt and not explained,” Logan adds. “It’s also cool to see so many people having fun with it,” he says, and he loves how global it is.

The stick submissions come from all corners of the world. Found in Finnish forests, Indonesian beaches, Kenyan plains, New Zealand lakes but also random backyards, they offer micro glimpses of people and their surroundings that are often as fascinating as the sticks themselves.

Newbies beware, this stick stuff is infectious and I soon switch from being a passive observer to an active participant, scouring the ground on the lookout for a stick that speaks to my soul.

Urban challenge

But living in the city with no parks nearby, this turns out to be quite difficult. I step outside of my house and see only pavement. There are a few trees. But not a stick in sight. Just lots of dogs attached to leads. Poor things, they must feel frustrated too. Just as I’m about to give up I spot the tiniest of twigs. Small and withered, this must truly be The World’s Saddest Stick. How can this compete with the other epic offerings online? But then I remember Boone’s words. The stick has spoken to me. And that’s enough.

I ask Boone what he thinks. It’s so small, he needs to peer closer. After a brief pause, he’s quick to see its potential: “Sticks aren’t just for humans, you know. There are creatures, things that are smaller than us… this would be just the stick for them.”

I blink. Suddenly my human-centered mindset feels laughably narrow. And I realize that, actually, it’s not about the sticks. Of course it isn’t. The real reason Stick Nation is guaranteed to lift my spirits every time is that it’s about people, sharing what they love. And when the world as we know it feels like it’s spinning off course, as long as a group of people can get together to talk sticks, we will always be able to find common ground.

Did I just learn something profound about humanity from a stick? I think I did. You can too – they’re lying around everywhere (almost).