I went camping with the family last week. That meant three solid days off the grid, so things I would normally tweet didn’t get tweeted. Things like this:
It rained excessively on Day 1, starting in the middle of the night and lasting until the following evening. Occasionally it would seem to let up, and we’d express our hope that it would, but another vicious downpour inevitably followed. After a while, it felt like a giant middle finger from Mother Nature.
Oh, you want to spend some time living in the forest? And you want to stay dry? That’s interesting. Heh heh.
Yes, we constructed shelters and sat in the rain. Because camping, dammit.
Fortunately, Day 2 looked nothing like Day 1.
The grandfather-type alarm clock gave me flashbacks of high school.
Day 2 involved hiking and bike riding, and for me, editing. It also involved the hummingbird feeder that Pappap still had in his camper after many years.
Day 3 is where the title of this post comes in.
Imagine you’re bundled up tight in a mummy sleeping bag. The air is chilled, but you’re toasty warm. The sun is just starting to rise, so it’s around 5:30 in the morning. You’re sound asleep, until this happens right outside your tent:
Except it’s that x8, because that’s how many noisy asshole crows are hanging out by the fire pit, squawking at each other.
CAW!! CAW!! CAAAW!!
Now they’re having a the crow edition of American Idol. They’re freaking loud. You endure, because surely the crows will move on. There’s nothing they want here.
The giggle comes from the kid in the neighboring sleeping bag. The crow chorus has been going for about an hour by now.
“I know why a group of crows is called a murder,” you say to the kid. “Because I want to murder them.”
This results in more giggling.
You fling yourself from the sleeping bag, hastily put on shoes, dart from the tent, and run towards the murder while flailing your arms and yelling. Know what the crows are doing as they fly off?
Cawing in celebration all the way to another campsite, where they continue their assholey crow behavior.
I don’t know what we did to deserve getting woken up by crows at 5:30 in the morning. Maybe they were jealous of the special treatment the hummingbirds received.
The good news is I went home later that day, so I got to leave the crow alarm behind and rejoin the land of rooftops and real beds and the Twitters while reflecting on what I learned:
1. You can intermingle fire and water.
2. Hummingbirds eat a LOT.
3. Crows are the YouTube comments section of nature.