Evil Squirrels and Biblical Floods

Geezer John stands in front of Grantsville's Casselman Bridge.  A gorgeous day for camping!

My sister rushed to greet us as we returned from swimming in the lake at New Germany State Park in Grantsville, Maryland.  

She exclaimed, “We pulled into your campsite, and one of those cute little red squirrels  jumped up onto the picnic table and ran off with something white!” 

“Uh-huh,” I replied, pretending to take an interest.  I was sure it was no big deal.  My sister hates camping, so I assumed she was making more of the incident than it warranted.  Probably the squirrel just picked up a tissue and ran off with it. 

Geezer John, Sister, BIL, and I settled down for a socially distanced, plastic glove-wearing dominos game.  As we munched our way through a box of crackers, I noticed the cute little red squirrels were expanding in number.  First we saw just one of them hopping through the campsite.  Then there was one by the tent and another by the car.  Now, it seemed like a blur of red whizzed by from every direction. 

Red Pine Squirrel, photo by Spencer Lin

    

They were teeny creatures that could easily fit in your hand, but now, like Star Trek Tribbles, they were Everywhere!  Why???  Why were they suddenly taking over our campsite?

My Brother In Law.

Unbeknownst to the rest of us, BIL was sneaking crackers to the insanely cute little critters, and he was coaxing them toward the dominos table so he could feed them by hand! 

Everyone who has ever camped knows: 

You Should Never Feed the Wildlife.  

But my protests were met with a general response of “They’re so adorable; they’re not hurting anyone.” 

“Fine,” I thought. “Wait until lunch when you have to fight them off with your fork!”

Ah yes, lunch time.  I started to extract the meal ingredients from the cooler, when I stopped and realized my “spice rack” was missing. 

I like hot, spicy foods, so I’d devised a camping “spice rack” made out of a 7-day medicine pill container.  Sunday’s pill dispenser had 2 tablespoons of Cinnamon; Monday’s - Curry; Tuesday’s - Smoked Paprika; and so on, until Saturday, where I stored my favorite spice for Everything from Seafood to Popcorn:  Maryland’s famous Old Bay Seasoning.

But my spice rack was gone!  I searched the car, and then remembered what my sister first said when we arrived.  The white thing stolen by the squirrel was my pill organizer spice rack! 

BIL discovered what was left of it in the tall grass.  The caps for each day’s pill section were popped open, and the contents had been licked dry by the furry little savages! 

From Sunday to Friday.  But not Saturday.   

There was a tiny hole in that section where some of the spice peeked out. The squirrels had tasted, and REJECTED, my Old Bay Seasoning!  

These rabid little rodents were the absolute worst:  Picky Eaters!  ("Without crabs," I surmised, "these elitist gourmands won't even touch Old Bay!")

The Replacement Spice Rack is now round, making it more difficult for little squirrel fingers to steal.  Maybe.

But now there was a new worry:  The sky suddenly turned dark, and the wind changed direction.  This couldn’t be happening!  Three different computer forecasts predicted sunny but humid weather for the next 2 nights.

We heard thunder rolling over the other side of the mountain.  My sister and BIL quickly climbed into their truck and sped homeward.  (I secretly hoped that a posse of the evil squirrels were hitchhiking a ride in the back of BIL’s truck.)

It began to drizzle.  Geezer John and I battened down the hatches (whatever that means).  We strung up a tarp over our ancient, lovable tent.  We packed our stove and other gear in the car trunk.  We relocated all of the perishable food to the back seat where we could keep it cool in the air conditioning. 

The bridge over the lake at New Germany - before the deluge.

We barely had time to jump into the car and close the doors when the sky opened, and all of the water stored in heaven tumbled down to earth.  We told ourselves, “This kind of rainstorm will blow over quickly!  We’ll just wait in the car; and in 20 minutes, we’ll be setting up the propane stove and laughing about this!” 

But 20 minutes later, we weren’t laughing.     

The rain continued.  Not in a dramatic thunder and lightning sort of way.  More like a deafening patter of tap dancers on the rooftop way. 

We decided to make the best of it!  

We ate tuna sandwiches, finished off the fruit salad, and poured ourselves a glass of wine.  Though we don’t usually partake, we smoked a recently legalized, controlled substance. (Don’t judge.  I dare say most geezers have done the same sometime in their long lives!)  We played gin rummy and reminisced about rainshowers shared together during the past 3 decades. 

Hours elapsed.  And still the rain continued. 

Looking through the storm-smeared windows, we could just make out the contours of our tent and tarp, sagging in the center, under the weight of what looked like a sink full of water.  It was time to make a decision.

First, we needed to collect data.  The radio forecast called for rain until 2am, and it was only 7pm now.  Our geezer bodies ached at the thought of staying in the car.  Could we survive sleeping in the tent?  There was only one way to find out.  I dashed from the car to the tent, unzipped the door, and stepped inside. 

Hmm.  It was humid inside, like a misty, dark jungle.  The walls of the tent were saturated, but I saw only a little rain pooled up on the top of the sleeping bag.  If we avoided touching the tent walls, it might be okay! 

   Our funky old tent would be okay - it HAD to be okay!

But then I noticed the air mattress shifted positions.  It was FLOATING inside the tent.  I pulled off the sleeping bag and discovered that the sheets underneath had sucked up water from the puddled tent floor and soaked the entire surface of the bed.

Decision made.  As the rain kept falling, we flattened the mattress, tore down the tarp and tent, and threw everything, still dripping, into the car trunk.  Fifteen minutes later we were on the road, driving home.   

As cheap geezers, it destroyed us to know that we had willingly lost 2 nights of camping fees by leaving early!  But after 3 hours of driving in the unforecasted downpour, we got home and made another costly decision:

It was time to retire the old beloved tent and buy a new Fully Equipped Shelter that was WATERPROOF!

 

Next week:  The Point at Which Mosquitos and Jellyfish Intersect