“I am an early riser, and now that the weather has warmed, I like to take a cup of coffee out under the oak trees in back of the cabin and get a feel for what type of day it is going to be. By the time I had had a sip or two of coffee, the mosquitoes had discovered me and gathered in an annoying buzz around my head. But before they had a chance to bite, a small furry shape appeared from nowhere. I heard the soft rush of wings beside my ear and the mosquitoes were gone. A few moments of silence. More mosquitoes, and once again a bat swooped in. The arrangement was a pleasant one for both the bat and me.”
— Sue Hubbell, “A Country Year: living the questions”
As a young girl, I had the fun of following my older sisters in an amazing experience they had enjoyed, heading for a full seven days and nights to summer church camp in the heart of a large rural acreage within the woods.
The first two years at Camp Otyokwa, I landed in Cabin #4. Bare-bones lodging, the cabin was designed with built-in bunk beds, six on each side. The first one there got the first choice of bunk, and I noticed it almost always went to the top bunk at the back of the cabin. One bare light bulb was the only sign of electricity.
Suitcases were stuffed under bottom bunks, filled with basic necessities. It was a hike to the restroom, down a series of paths, using ledges built by nature for footing. I can still envision the footfalls as if it was yesterday.
My third year, attendance had grown, and a newly constructed lodging area was offered within the big barn where meals, crafts and night gatherings were held when weather didn’t allow us to be outdoors.
I signed up for the barn, sight unseen, ready for a new experience. When I arrived there with a couple of kids from my church, I ran to the barn to choose a bunk. Top center bunk was my pick in a fairly large, open-to-the-ceiling part of the barn. There must have been at least 20 built-in bunk beds, and it was always exciting to meet roommates from all over Ohio.
The first night made me long for old Cabin #4. The barn seemed massive, creaking and groaning in the summer night. Sleep proved elusive, and I started the week a very tired camper.
We hiked, held devotions, started crafts, played volleyball, went swimming in the large pond, showered in the very rugged, stinky bathroom and hiked all the way up Vesper Hill after dinner.
Hitting the bunk at the end of the day, I was tired enough to sleep. Deep in dreamland, I awoke to blood-curdling screams. Our den mother rushed to turn on lights, an entire bank of them. Attempting to determine the reason for the screams, she assured us it was likely a nightmare. Again, lights out. The next night, a different girl, same scenario.
On the third night, the screams seemed to be coming from me. I felt and heard something buzzing about my ear which brought me out of deep sleep. I told my counselor, who slept on a bottom bunk, I felt pretty sure our nightmare screams were caused by bats. In time, I was proven right.
Many barn campers went home. My dad had taught me bats may look creepy, but they are our allies. Leave them alone, let them do their job, and be grateful for them.
I stuck it out, enjoying the company of girls who remain 12 years old in joyful memories, but the next year, we would again request old, rugged Cabin #4.
