By Alex Holmes
I remember a night, years ago, in the beautiful and fern-filled Huron-Manistee National Forest in Michigan.
It was July, I was lying under my tarp, waiting for sleep after a full day of backpacking.
Restlessly I rolled around, not certain why my tired body was having such a difficult time finding sleep. It just felt like something was missing.
“The bugs,” I thought.
Let me assure you, Michigan has insects and all of them bite. It was the lullaby I was missing.
In comparison to our Missouri forests, the forests of Michigan were eerily silent that time of year, and the silence was so loud it kept me up.
