Stories from Israel

Since it's been several days since I've written to you, I have many stories to tell you again.  Don't feel bad if you have to read them a few at a time. Surprising sounds:  Last Wednesday morning, not too long after sunrise, our group was hard at work in our Bronze Age dirt.  I had gone to the bottom of our area to get my bottle of water from Daddy's backpack and was just stepping back under the sunshade when I heard a deafening roar like an enormous explosion.  The noise didn't stop but kept on roaring.  I looked back over my shoulder, and saw a white cloud, kind of like a mushroom cloud, rising from behind the hills that form our horizon.  It kept getting bigger and bigger with frightening speed.  I looked at the others, and everyone was frozen.  Daddy asked, "Do you know what that is?"  "We have no experience with anything like this."  Daddy was the first one to venture a guess:  "Oh, the Israeli military is testing a sustained missile.  They fire it into the ground and test how long it keeps exploding underground."  No one else had a better idea, so we all decided he must be right.  Finally, the noise stopped, and eventually the cloud dissipated.  We had heard on the news the day before that Iran had tested a missile that could reach Israel, so we imagined that this was Israel's answer. Later, Daddy and I were walking around our hill to the breakfast area when we heard another roar.  The roaring went on and on, but it was a very different sound than the missile roar.  At first I thought it was a motorcycle revving its engine to get unstuck from mud, but then I realized it was some kind of animal in distress.  I could not imagine what could be making such a huge, strange noise – like an elephant or a dinosaur roaring or 100 donkeys braying at once.  As we came around a bend, we saw the noise:  a baby camel crying its head off and trying to get away from the post where some Bedouin men were struggling to tie it up.  Finally, the men got it secured and gave it something to eat, but it kept crying every now and then – almost like it was calling for its mama.  After everyone left it alone and we all went into the breakfast tent, the baby stopped crying and lay down.  Several times throughout breakfast, it would start crying again.  We had to finally go back to work, and I never did hear where it had come from or where it went.  It disappeared.  I suppose the Bedouin men knew what to do with it and took it to its mama.