One night last week I found myself as curled up as I could get in my mummy sleeping bag, my hands tucked under my armpits for warmth. I was cold, and yet I was laughing, because there was a whippoorwill singing right beside Pennsylvania’s Quarry Gap Shelter. The bird was loud, and its incessant “whip-poor-will” wouldn’t let my eyes close long enough to actually drop off to sleep. But another day spent in nature was coming to a close, ...
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