The next day the sun rose too early for my tastes. On the other hand, I’d be controlling wildlife within the hour.
Hunched over the fire, I felt surly. During the day’s unavoidable period of pre-coffee crabbiness, a yuppie shithead couple showed up to occupy an adjacent campsite. None of my reaction to them was fair. I freely admit I had a bad attitude. They were probably nice people. In fact, my thoughts reflect worse on me than them. I’d labeled them “shitheads” simply because they were driving a new Subaru, dressed like an REI catalog, and were young and pretty. Plus they were checking into a campsite at dawn. Who does that? I’m usually so frazzled from life’s responsibilities that I limp into camp just minutes before dark. They had unintentionally checked all my internal biases and therefore my mood was malevolent.
They deployed an array of gadgetry that had nary a scratch or blemish; as if they weren’t actually camping but rather relocating a showroom from an upscale store. You could practically smell the scent of credit card on all their stuff. A handsome young fella’ was assembling an elaborate tent with the assistance of a pretty young lady. Clearly they’d never done it before. I hate complex tent setups. I hate pretty people. I hate ‘em even more before my coffee!
I tried to force myself into a better mindset. They were attired in shockingly brand new, hopelessly trendy, clothes but that’s probably more a reflection that I looked like shit. I hadn’t even packed clean clothes! (The same washing machine that failed in the middle of January 2022, had failed for it’s first time in spring 2021. It croaked just weeks after the initial purchase. I’d been getting the kind of slow moronic warranty service that makes you wish companies could die of cancer. The washer is a lemon! Note: the second breakdown is ongoing. Just like before they’re doing all they can to dither. They probably hope to slime across the one year warranty threshold. If a company that rhymes with Girlpool goes bankrupt I will be delighted because they sold me a white box of expensive disappointment.)
I looked like shit because my washer was broke and I hadn’t had time to stop at a laundromat. Through no fault of my own, I was cycling through clothes on the “this shirt is somewhat less dirty than that shirt” logic. At least I was camping solo. Who’s going to complain about a smelly redneck if he’s all alone?
Also, my camping gear is often shitty and occasionally well used and sometimes pure junk, but that’s generally my choice. I have the same option to buy new stuff any other person does. If other people want shiny new gear who am I to comment? They had done nothing wrong. My complaints were reflections of my own faulty self and not their behavior. I have reverse classism; I hate rich people. This isn’t fair and I admit it.
Well aware of my moral failings, I focused on the coffee. Coffee fixes all.
As it percolated my mood improved. Was I not the king of the seas with my little boat? Wasn’t I camping? Any time you’re camping and the weather isn’t actively miserable you should be happy. Who am I to even have an opinion of others? We could happily coexist by never interacting. I resolved to be a better person.
Many established campsites have what I call “ghetto critters”. These are animals that use campers as a source of food. An animal that pursues “camp food” instead of natural sources is impertinent, hazardous, and should be corrected either through gentle pursuasion or outright death. Which critter occupies this niche varies from place to place. It might be chipmunks or jays (often called “camp robbers”) or squirrels or raccoons or whatever. This time it was something new. This campsite had aggressive begging gophers. Gophers seems weird to me but new places entail new experiences.
One of them was heroically brave (and annoying). This particular ground squirrel gopher critter made a run at my post-oatmeal dessert cookie! I snatched it away before he could get it but I damn near lost a cookie!
I’m more accustomed to wilderness than Parks. Wilderness animals know they’re dealing with wilderness campers… wilderness campers do not put up with shit! So this was all new to me. I had never before experienced aggressive park gophers. I didn’t like the cheeky bugger and he was pushing my buttons. In an ideal world you’d whip out a shotgun and vaporize the little cretin. Sadly, that’s not allowed in parks. I shoulda’ brought a pellet gun I guess? All I had was a stick.
He made another run at my cookie and I nearly whacked him with the stick. He was fast but I was angry. He zoomed up the picnic table and eyed me at chest level; as if he were sizing me up. Shit was getting serious. I do not like my coffee being interrupted. I don’t like being challenged.
“Try it ya’ little bastard.” I hissed.
He didn’t back down. So that’s how it was going to be! I don’t take crap from humans and I sure as hell don’t take it from animals… I’ll throw down with a fuckin’ gopher if necessary.
He looked me in the eye. I glared right back. There was a 2’ gap between us. He could probably jump that far. I could probably get a base hit off that kind of pitch. It was a tense standoff.
Part of my rational brain knew this was nuts. If I wound up with my face all scratched up because I got in a fight with a four ounce gopher I would officially be a supreme dumbass. The other part of my brain hadn’t had enough coffee and was ready to sort things out with a bloody gopher massacre. That’s just me; until that first cup is done I’ll gladly get in a fistfight with a grizzly.
I maintained eye contact. Most animals don’t like extended eye contact. They’ll shy away. This little gopher had zero fucks to give. I was rather impressed.
“Why don’t you terrorize the Gander Mountain showroom down there?” I motioned at the adjacent site which had been the earlier focus of my unfair ire.
The critter chirped and flashed out of sight. Huh! That wasn’t the resolution I expected. Go figure?
Relaxing, I returned to my coffee. Man, I definitely need to chill out. I was willing to get into a death match with a rodent over a cookie? What’s up with that? (Admittedly it was a Pepperidge Farm Milano. Those ‘aint cheap and I love Milanos!)
Chuckling to myself at my own inner failings I settled back into my chair. I tossed the stick on the fire and opened a second package of cookies. I should learn to…
A shriek pierced the air!
In the campsite next to me, the yuppie girl was going absolutely berserk. The young man (presumably a new husband) was standing there totally baffled. He had no idea what to do. Apparently she’d been changing in their recently erected dome tent when… you guessed it… a gopher somehow got in the tent with her.
The tent shook and contorted as wife and gopher did several laps within the finite limits of fabric geometry. Neither she nor the gopher managed to find the door and so the cycle continued and built upon itself. The fellow was trying to zip open the door but all hell was breaking loose and he couldn’t find it the zipper.
Meanwhile, the tent was subjected to forces no engineer had anticipated. It was like it had a thunderstorm inside the tent! I was impressed how deformed it could get and still spring back into shape. She carried on like she was being fed into a woodchipper and the tent kept shaking until the guy got a hold on the zipper and yanked the door wide open. (Sadly, the door was facing away from the leering redneck in the adjacent site.)
Zoom! There was a flash of brown as the critter tore off. I couldn’t tell if it was carrying a prize. Perhaps it had seized a treat originally sourced from Whole Foods?
It took all I could do to hold my laughter back. To my credit, I made not a peep. I just poured more coffee and enjoyed the moment. I have no way of knowing which critter had done what thing, but I like to think the gopher who’d challenged me for my Pepperidge Farms Milano had followed my exact instructions and attacked the target I’d suggested.
After that colorful morning, I went sailing and had a fabulous day.
A.C.
P.S. Around noon I beached at a small rocky shore miles away. I stopped there for lunch and by gosh there was a gopher there too! This one was far less aggressive. I avoid encouraging bad behavior in animals but I couldn’t help but think a gopher had voluntarily done my bidding that very morning. I left a potato chip for this, his more rural cousin. If I contributed to a critter’s delinquency I apologize to the universe. It simply felt right and proper to pay for a service rendered. Team gopher had given me a fine show with the exploding tent just a few hours earlier, I repaid it over lunch.
I’m glad it’s just not me with those biases. Subarus are bulletproof little rigs, but their owners? Dear lord, man. If I’m chasing grayling and there’s a puke green Outback, complete with top pod and critter fence behind the backseat in my go-to pullout, I’m finding another spot. Sure as that Outback’s RADIO is permanently tuned to NPR, there will be some punter looking like a walking Orvis display mannequin standing in my favorite riffle exuding superiority. All you need to catch grayling is a fly rod, a couple bugs tied in 2 or 3 patterns and bug dope to keep from being eaten alive. Makes my head hurt.
Ha ha ha… you describe it perfectly. Excellent cars but who wants the hassle of interacting with the “cult member” who owns it?
That was great. I got laugh tears from that. In my head she was having a pissed off activist lesbian squirrel experience in a locked tent. You described a Tasmanian devil level disaster. Plus, I was just starting my 1st cup of joe. Great start to the day, thank you dear Sirmudgeon.
Glad you liked it.
Can I tell a story here in your comments? I hope so because here goes. State Park camping…
My family and another went tent camping at a State park in southern Ohio. On the evening of the first day a group of loud and obnoxious partiers moved into one of the campsites nearby. I hate those type people. They care nothing about others in the area. After all, you go camping to get away from the noise and stress. Well, these people brought loud music and loud party into the woods. The park rangers went over there a couple of times to try and tone it down but to no avail. We were probably going to cut our outing short because of these assholes. However, succor came in a most unlikely way.
The kids were in their tents asleep and the adults were sitting around shooting the bull and drinking a few beers wondering if the idiots would eventually go to bed.
Suddenly, my friend called out: “CAT!” “POLECAT!”
And there, sauntering into the middle of our campsite, strode a skunk about the size of, well, a large cat.
I called out: “Don’t anyone move. Don’t do anything sudden and we’ll be okay!”
We all sat there quietly while mister skunk explored. My can of beer was sitting on the ground right next to my chair. The skunk walked right up and sniffed it. Then he looked straight at me. He walked around a little more. He checked out the cooler, then the fire-pit and even walked over to the entrance to one of the tents. (Luckily, the door was zipped shut.) Then, I guess he got bored and sauntered off into the woods. After his departure, we all laughed a bit, but mostly we breathed a sigh of relief. Ah, but things didn’t end there. You know where this is going don’t you.
About 15 minutes later there was a loud cry from Camp Asshole. Suddenly – pandemonium! I heard a male voice cry out and a chair being thrown!
Fire in the hole!
…and even though we were upwind we still got a very slight whiff of eau-de-skunk. Yep, they did it. And mister skunk did what nobody else to that point had been able to. He cleared them out! I’ve never seen a group decamp as fast as those assholes did. And about ten minutes later, the slight eau-de-skunk had dissipated and we enjoyed blessed peace and quiet.
Mister skunk never returned, but all of us agreed that if he came back to our campsite, we were going to give him a beer, and breakfast if he hangs around long enough.
That’s an awesome story!
PS: I own a Subaru, an Ascent, the best car I have ever had. And no, I am NOT one of “those” people.
Subarus are awesome cars. I owned one once. I freely admit my pre-coffee mind was completely wrong.
Fully understand your preference for less-developed (and busy) campsites. A suggestion for those times when you have not much choice about staying in a campsite with ‘ghetto critters”, should you want to do a bit of pre-packing. Bring a spool of strong thread and some peanuts in the shell. When you are in your site and a mooching critter comes around, tie a peanut to the thread, and start what we have named “fishing for squirrels”. Very few critters will let go of a bit of food once they have it in their mouths, so you can play your catch for a few very entertaining minutes till either the thread breaks or the critter smartens up and chews through the shell and runs away with the peanut inside.
Yes, it is teasing the natives. You’re doing it with reasonably natural food (I don’t use junk food) and the smarter critters will take the hint and leave you alone after being exercised a few times. Just remember to leave a clean campsite when you go out for the day, since there is every chance that your ghetto critter will check back with revenge in mind, in once the area is quiet.
I’d never even thought of such a thing. I am definitely going to try “critter fishing” this summer!