I descended down my ancient dune, for a lavish bath in Lake Michigan.

That from where I was standing, was my own, and I shared it with nobody.

Climbing the final bump in the sand, I discovered I was not alone.

Or rather, I discovered I can shriek.

And like a hot flash, it happens automatically.

In this case it was triggered, by the biggest snake I have ever encountered.

From what I remember, and the memory is somewhat blurry.

It’s head, was the size of my fist.

My instinct told me, that the coiled body indicated…

That it was getting ready to pounce at me, at which point, still shrieking, I simply took to the air.

No doubt, for a split second, at least, impressing some of the near by seagulls.

If not downright worrying the leader, that I was about to join them.

---

Let me tell you, an even like this changes you, you never frolic through the bush again.

And when you come across a patch of grass of a grassy plain, you mutter to yourself.

"There are blepping snakes in, in that bleeling plains"

It is not a question of fear, bur rather of respect.

Briefly becoming a shrieking seagull, reminded me… that I was not in fact alone.

And that I was sharing my little wilderness with many a fanged creature, and then some.

---

I am no stranger to thunder, in fact I experienced snow thunder twice.

And the first time made me run so fast, that I might have broken the sound barrier.

Just last year I experienced what sounded, like a mini Tunguska Event.

A single thunder, so loud, that the whole suburb not only heard it, but still remember it.

In one of my first outings, I watched a storm roll over.

Where I had to sleep between the poles of my tent, laying flat like starfish on the ground.

I was on my way for a walk into the wilderness, I was preparing to stay at.

I rented a camp site for the night, as it was raining, and I wanted to scout everything out.

And as I was about to pass a large camper, and nodded hello to the driver.

That is when it happened, we didn’t see the lightening maybe due to cloud cover.

But the thunder went off, right above our heads, right above the tree we were under.

He jumped, and I shrieked, though this time internally, having mastered shrieking the first time.

Though I felt like I became a scary cat, covered with goose bumps and hair standing up.

We stood there for a few seconds, frozen, as if waiting for a second strike.

And that is when I noticed that the man’s nerves, were already frayed.

Thunder, and rain, is why he was packing up, “we’re leaving” -- he said with resolve.

Perhaps so that his wife could hear it, and calm her nerves down.

I didn’t sense anybody else, but I could see how she just woke up from her afternoon nap.

---

They were a team, she charted the next adventure, and he did the driving.

I would not be surprised, if perhaps their adventures, didn’t in fact end with autumn.

But they simply drove south, where it is warmer, to revisit all their favorite spots down in Florida.

They certainly didn’t dive up to Michigan, to enjoy the weather.

The thing about lake Michigan is that, is that the weather changes there fast.

It was sunny and fresh by morning- I observed , while now setting up at my new camp site.

Miles away from campers, and their jittery disenchantment.

The rainy weather did bring flies along, I don’t understand the process.

But for a couple of days, the beaches were peppered.

With what looked like regular house flies, maybe it was the wind, or the weather.

Eventually I found a beach free of them, and as I was frolicking.

I was surprised to see a kayaker, with full camping gear slowly paddling along.

He asked if the files were everywhere, “just the shore” I said, “...and they are clearing up” I added.

But I can’t tell you, how amazed I was.

That someone chose not drag their gear though trails an beaches.

And instead, took a kayak out, packed it with gear…

And went off scouting, for a neat beach, from the lake side.

---

My third shriek, was actually filled with fright.

There was no making sense of it, and what I started doing…

Was listening, to whether or not it is getting closer.

I was camping in a secluded spot, so maybe if I didn’t move a muscle.

The Freaking monster, would not notice that I was there.

---

Earlier in the day, I saw, a bunch of people assembling for a nigh of drinking.

But this was way after midnight, and coming from the opposite direction.

At first I thought maybe it was a fox, but is sounded like it was yelling a name.

So in the seconds that I was abruptly awaken, at what seemed like 2AM.

Still tired from a day of hiking, I assumed it was a common variety monster witch out for a snack.

I lay there listening to the screams, for what seemed like 15 minutes.

Until finally, I heard a mans voice, and figured she will be fed fo the night.

I actually figured it was one of the campers, who foolishly went for a five mile walk to get more booze.

And whatever landmarks she tried to remember, failed her.

Not just because things look different on the way back, but that there were two woodland coves.

And she, needed to walk a bit further.

But let me tell you something, she did not sound like lady to me.

It was not a beautiful voice, it was a series of cruel angry screams.

And though I am a gentleman, I would not go down there, while she kept screaming like that.

I was just too scared, let me tell you, the beach didn’t need two screaming idiots that night.

---

There is one more event, that gave me great pause at Nordhouse.

After few weeks of camping, I returned to the camper zone to clean up.

And went over to their announcement area, where they pin various rules, and oblations.

I brainlessly scanned most of it, and as I turned away from it, I did a double take.

Because right in the middle of the damn board, a sign announced “This is Bear Country”.

Well, I had no idea, I thought it was just, pouncing snakes, wise raccoons, tame deer, cheerful seagulls, and a porcupine.

Now I was left wandering, how many times I was staled by a damn dirty bear.

---

I think this was the time, of the most interesting thing that happened to me at Nordhouse.

I don’t want to pass this chance, to retell the event, as it is one of the most precious things I own.

There was a couple of loud ladies in a camper, on the other site of the camping area.

They were lovely, but they would play their radio, and make noises, and laugh too loud.

I loved it, tough, I appreciated it, I was glad they were there, because they reminded me of Thelma and Louise.

And on the day of my departure, after many weeks at the wilderness.

As I was scribbling in my journal, I once again heard the camper door slam open.

And the cackle, of seriously cheerful ladies.

As far as I could tell, the woman was working on the breakfast fire.

By means, of what sounded like, smashing thick tree stumps together to crack them open.

It sounded like a hell of a workout, and she was at it for a goodie long while.

Once the wooden installation took shape, in her fire ring, she bent over the final time…

And fired the most powerful series of shots I have ever heard, right out of her butt.

It was a sound to behold, that echoed around the camp, and silenced all the birds in the area.

Frankly, up until that moment, in my sheltered life, I wasn’t even sure if ladies did such things.

I squinted to see if she didn’t collapse, and instead I saw her steady herself.

Take a deep breath, of fresh air, and yell out, with a southern accent and a sleezy tone.

“Pullllll maaaaaaaaaaa finga”, and then she skedaddled, her hair now in a mess, back into her camper.

Where she surely needed to change, and lay down, and now I realize, her friend probably reminded her that everyone head that.

And we did, lots of people paused their morning chores, and some still looked towards their camper long after the birds started chirruping again.