Wildlife

Camping provides ample opportunities to observe wildlife. Last summer, in our campground outside the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado, we witnessed the mom and dad of a "blended" family screaming about each other's kids. The next morning, the family "unblended" as half of them split.  Earlier this summer, at the Silver Mines campground near Fredricksburg, MO, our neighbors played their radio loud. But they were polite about it. Pot-bellied, No-shirt Guy strolled over to be sure we were o.k. with the volume. That's how we found out he wasn't working; his camping date was his neighbor; he was supposed to have his eight-year-old son with him, but the ex-wife and her rich new husband kept bribing the boy with Nintendo, so now the boy hates the outdoors, and he never sees the kid. Wow. That was a lot to take in. Then Pot-bellied, No-shirt Guy offered to share the whiskey he'd brought. We declined and he took a giant swig straight from the bottle. Suddenly, I understood his ex-wife. Vomit Guy I'll never understand and this was years ago. Long after dark, he and his buddies pulled into the adjacent campsite at Robertsville State Park in Missouri. As a young Daisy and a younger Birdie blissfully slept, Big Guy and I laid awake listening as Vomit Guy upchucked in the grass, then stumbled around in the dark, spitting. That's when we learned how campground hosts with huge RVs, plastic flamingos and Japanese lanterns earn their keep. A team of two showed up and ordered Vomit Guy to go to bed. And he did.