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.