Rise with the lark and with the lark to bed,
Observe some solemn sentimental owl;
But first, before we make ourselves a fool or fowl,
Let us enquire if the larks have any beds at all.
THEY have, they have. The tramp is a lark of a kind, and makes a little nest each night. It is apt to be a pleasant place. There are few “restless pillows” in the open-air bed. England, of course, is not the country for it. There is so much rain and dew that the sleeper out of doors is like to develop fungoid. But in America the ordinary population is so épris of the fresh, uncovered night, that nearly everyone outside the great cities sleeps at least on the porch, or in a garden hammock slung between trees.
I am prejudiced in favor of that kind of tramping where one sleeps out. Strictly speaking, if one sleeps in hotels or houses, it is not a tramp but a walking tour. You cannot afford to be divorced from Nature, and the winds at sundown. The continuity of day and night in the open is golden gain. The objections against it in a dry healthful climate are commonly trivial. For instance, danger. Some think it dangerous. They believe they may be attacked by robbers or by wild beasts. But robbers do not search the woods and the wilderness for likely victims. Unless, by your behavior you should attract attention, there is not the slightest risk of interference on the part of man. I can imagine some rather rich dandified intemperate pair going singing along the road from some wayside pothouse when they have incontinently advertised their intention of sleeping out. The bad lad of the village, or some local wag, has overheard, and determines on a hold-up. The victims have themselves to blame.
As evening comes on, the tramp should become more shy. It is a mistake to choose one’s evening camp in full view of the highway. For one’s own subsequent peace of mind it is better to have been unobserved. Though if you are a stout fellow, why worry? I have had midnight visitors before now, and have stirred up the embers of the fire to make another pot of coffee, but it has generally been pleasant and interesting, a diversion.
As regards wild beasts, that is a danger greatly overestimated. If you are thoroughly wild, the wild beasts will know it and respect you. They much prefer to bite the white, the soft, the civilized and the timid. The puma is an unsociable lady but she may generally be reckoned upon to leave you alone, even if she does resent your sleeping on her grounds. The bear, with his inquisitive snout, may come snuffing for your provisions, but he will not attack you unless you are going to attack him. It should be understood that wild animals have an uncanny power of sensing your state of mind and your intentions. They know if you are scared, and they know if you are going to jump up and strike at them. They know also if you have no fear, and if you are friendly. If you are calm and easy-going you can often make up to a bear and feed him. I imagine that was the secret of those early Christians who were famous for their friendship with the fiercest of animals.
More dangerous, however, are reptiles, and one should avoid lying down in a basket of snakes. In a snake-swarming country it is as well to avoid caves, especially those with many ledges. Dry ditches also, though sometimes attractive hollows for the spreading out of bedding, are often the home of snakes. You have observed them there by day. They remain at night. As regards the open, it is easy to beat out the brush so as to make sure that no rattler is going to be disturbed later on. Sleeping against walls has also its dangers, not only from snakes but from scorpions. The scorpion is a loathsome creature; even seeing one is rather a shock, and the bite is reputed to be specially poisonous. In tarantula country a sleeping bag or a hammock is preferable to a bed spread on the ground. But when all hazards have been considered, a bed out of doors is safer than a bed in a house. The roof will not fall in; there is no danger of fire.
Experience, however, tells when it comes to choosing a resting place and making it comfortable. It is not a happy thing to plump down at the end of the day at random upon feeling tired. You cannot sleep pleasantly on a heap of stones, or in a marsh, or on a canting surface. You need to think of the chances of rain, or of mosquitoes, or creeping damp.