Campfire Chat: Two squirrels, one heavy pack, and a month for our pets
📦 What’s in My Pack
Some packs are light, a comfortable weight you can carry for miles without thinking about it. Others feel fine at first… until the trail turns steep and rocky, and suddenly every step is a reminder that you’re carrying more than you realized.
Lately, my pack has been in that second category. It’s been a heavy season for my husband and me — the kind of weeks where you cry every day and wonder if those tears ever actually run out. I’m not ready to unpack the details here, but I will say this: we’ve been carrying a lot of weight for a long stretch, and there hasn’t been a place to set it down.
And yet, in the middle of this uphill slog, there’s been a little patch of trail that feels… lighter. Writing this month’s pieces for Pet Month at Field Trip has been a genuine joy. They say pets can help you live longer — and while I sometimes question that in the middle of my dog’s “bark at a leaf” campaign — I get it. They bring comfort, companionship, and a ridiculous amount of joy. And for me, with an officially empty nest, they’ve been one of the ways that “empty” feels a little less so. This month we’ve packed our site with tips, stories, and gear guides for the animals who share our trails and our homes. Not everything is pet-related, but a lot of it is — because they deserve a whole month of attention.
🥾 On the Ground
In the spirit of Pet Month, I should tell you: I recently took on two new “roommates” — Harry and Henry, baby squirrels currently living in a tote that serves as their nest.
It started with volunteering for the Wildlife Rehabilitation Group of South Carolina. They were swamped with more squirrel babies than they could handle this breeding season, and when I found out they needed help, I signed up for training. I worried it might be one more thing in an already heavy season — less sleep (they need a mid-night feeding), more responsibility. But it’s been the opposite.
I’m a nurturer by nature. I raised three extraordinary human beings (biased, yes, but still true). I’ve been the woman at the pool who can’t fully relax because I’m watching the toddler across the way. Even with my own pets — two dogs, two cats — there’s been a piece of that “mom” part of me that’s been missing in this empty-nest chapter. Harry and Henry have given me a new sense of purpose that’s outside career, relationships, and community work. Quite literally, I have life in my hands again.
In wildlife rehab, the goal is to re-wild them — give them a second shot at living where they belong. Sometimes they don’t make it. Sometimes they do, and you let them go, knowing you may never see them again. It’s bittersweet, but there’s no greater privilege than being the reason a wild life goes on. In a season when I’ve needed it most, these tiny squirrels have reminded me that even when the trail feels impossible, there can still be moments of deep, unexpected meaning.
🎧 On in the Background
A baby sound machine playing nature noises — part of acclimating the squirrels to outdoor life, part of disguising their tiny squeaks from my own curious pets.
🕯 Inside the Tent
We have a new intern, Catelin, who you can meet on the Chaperones page of the site. She’s a fast learner, a problem-solver, and the kind of teammate who frees up enough of my time to tackle projects that have been on the back burner. I’m really grateful she’s here.
🪵 Kindling
My mom. She moved from Maine to South Carolina last year, and while we don’t see each other as much as I would like, we share yoga sessions a few times a week and the occasional lunch or dinner. In this heavy stretch, her compassion, hugs, and quiet support have been a lifeline. Sometimes you just need a place — and a person — where you can drop the pack for a while. Moms are cool like that.
🎒 Packing Out
I recently asked a new friend if she’d take on a leadership role in Green Keepers, the conservation club I run in our POA community. She said no. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she’s already committed elsewhere and didn’t want to overfill her plate.
I truly loved that answer. It told me she trusted me enough to be honest. It reminded me that “no” can be a healthy trail sign — the one that keeps you from taking a path you don’t have the energy to hike. And it reinforced something I’ve been learning lately: carrying only what you can manage isn’t selfish. It’s smart.
Some seasons, our packs are heavier than we want them to be. Some trails feel longer than we think we can handle. But there are also squirrels to feed, dogs to hike with, moms to hug, friends to admire, and whole months of celebrating the animals who make our lives better. And, I would be remiss if I did not mention my husband, Liam, and the peace that his presence and love offers at the end of every long day.
So here’s to finding the light patches of trail when we can — and to knowing it’s okay to stop, adjust the straps, and catch your breath along the way.
About me
I’ve spent the last 15 years writing about the outdoors and conservation, often with muddy boots, dirt under my nails, and too many bug bites to count. I’m a certified Bee-Friendly Gardener, a Pollinator Steward, and a volunteer with those who care about conservation, wildlife, and treading lightly. I’m also a DarkSky Advocate and a proud member of the SC Native Plant Society, The 89 Percent Project, and 1% for the Planet. I volunteer with Wildlife Rehabilitation Group of South Carolina, specializing in rehabbing squirrels. My backyard wildlife habitat—certified by the National Wildlife Federation, Pollinator Partnership, and the Cornell Lab of Ornithology—is a wild little résumé of its own. I started Field Trip for people who like to play outside. Thanks for being here with me.
