Bugs and critters
Out on public land you're the guest, and everything that lives there was making a living long before you pulled in. Most of it wants nothing to do with you — but some of it wants your food, and a little of it can hurt you if you're careless. Here's the plain version of sharing the country with the bugs and the critters, starting with the one that actually touches the tool on this site: your food. The autonomy card counts your food as a flat number of days you set in your rig profile — that's it. It has no idea whether a bear, a mouse, or a hot cooler got to it first. So the food-days figure is only honest if the food you packed is still yours and still edible when you go to eat it. Everything below is how you keep that true, and how you keep the wildlife wild while you're at it.
The card counts the food you plan to eat — not what a critter takes
The food axis on the card is the simplest one there is: it's just the "days of food" number you typed on the rig profile. The card doesn't model a raid, it doesn't model mice, and it doesn't model a cooler that quit or food that spoiled in the heat — the same family of blind spot as the battery and fuel it leaves to you: it counts what you packed, it doesn't watch your camp. So storing your food isn't about the number on the screen; it's about keeping that number from turning into a lie. The honest order is: do what the unit tells you first — some forests and BLM areas require an approved bear canister or a hard-sided food box, and that rule wins over any habit you brought with you. Where the unit lets you, lock food in a hard-sided vehicle or box; that beats a tent or a cooler left on the picnic table, but understand it's harder for an animal, not bear-proof — a determined bear can peel a car. A rope-and-tree hang is only worth doing where the unit still allows it and you actually know how; it's not a national default, and where a canister is required a hang doesn't cut it. And "food" here is really "anything that smells" — food, trash, dishes, even toothpaste and soap. The one rule that never changes: none of it sleeps in the tent with you. If a critter does clean you out, don't trust the card — you've got fewer days than it says, and that's a town run sooner than you planned.
Bears: follow the unit, keep a clean camp, never feed one
Where there are bears, the managing agency usually has rules about it, and those rules are the point — check the unit before you go, the same way you'd check it for fire. Some places require an approved canister or a bear box and will tell you so; follow that to the letter, because it's often the law there, not a suggestion. Beyond the storage, it's mostly about not turning your camp into a buffet: cook and eat outside your sleeping space — for a tent that means away from the tent, for a rig it means outside the box, then put the scented stuff away — clean up right after, don't leave scraps or grease around, and keep the scented stuff put away between meals. A clean camp doesn't promise you'll never see a bear — it just takes most of the reason to visit away. If you do see one, don't approach it and never feed it, on purpose or by leaving food out; give it room and let it move on. I'm not going to hand you a magic distance or a step-by-step for a charge — that's country-specific and it's worth learning properly from the agency for where you're headed. The short version: their house, their rules, and a fed bear is a problem bear.
Mice and rodents: on a rig, the real cost is the wiring, not the snacks
This is the critter a rig owner should worry about more than most people do. Mice and pack rats will find any gap in a camper, and once they're in, food is only half of it — they nest in insulation and seat foam and they chew wiring, which is often the expensive part of the story, not the bag of trail mix they opened. Food draws them in, so seal it in hard containers the same as you would for bears, but understand they'll move into a warm rig for shelter whether or not they smell dinner. Keep crumbs down, don't store open food in soft packaging, and after a stint parked in the woods it's worth a look under the hood and around the wiring for chewing or nests before you assume everything's fine. Not every forest and not every night — plenty of trips you'll never see one — but the one time they get into a harness, you'll wish you'd sealed up and looked sooner.
Biting bugs and ticks: cover up and check yourself — I'm not your doctor
Mosquitoes, biting flies, and ticks are the daily reality of a lot of good camping, and how bad they are depends entirely on where you are and what season it is — a high-desert BLM flat in spring and a north-woods lake in July are two different worlds. The plain habits carry across all of it: cover skin when they're thick, especially at dawn and dusk; keep the rig or tent screened up; and in tick country, check yourself and anyone with you at the end of the day, including the spots that are easy to miss. Repellents help, but I'm not going to quote you numbers or brand claims — read the label and pick what suits where you're going. And here's the honest line I'll draw: ticks and mosquitoes can carry illness, but I'm a camper, not a doctor. If something doesn't heal, or you feel sick after a bite, that's a real medical question for a real professional, not something to look up in a camping note.
Snakes and spiders: watch where your hands and feet go
Most of the crawling things you'll meet want to be left alone, and nearly every bad encounter comes from a surprise — a hand set down where you couldn't see, a foot stepped over a log, a boot pulled on that had a visitor overnight. So most of staying safe is just paying attention with your hands and feet: look before you reach or step, especially around rocks, woodpiles, and tall grass; step onto a log and look over before you step down; and shake out boots, shoes, and gloves before you put them on. Don't handle wildlife, and don't go poking at a snake to move it or get a photo — give it a wide berth and it'll usually give you one. I'm not going to teach you to tell venomous from harmless or what to do about a bite; that's regional and it's medical, and if the worst happens the answer is get to real help, not a webpage. Awareness up front is the part that's actually in your hands.
It's a two-way street — keep the wildlife wild
All of this runs both directions: the same habits that keep critters out of your rig are the ones that keep them from getting into trouble. An animal that learns a campsite means an easy meal starts coming back, loses its wariness, and eventually becomes the "problem" animal that gets moved or put down — that's the hard truth behind the old saying that a fed animal is a dead animal, and it's why we store food and pack out every scrap. Don't leave food out to "watch them come in," don't toss the apple core in the bushes thinking it'll rot away, and carry out what you carry in — the leave-no-trace note walks through the rest, including why an orange peel isn't as harmless as it looks. You keep your food yours, they stay wild, and the next person who camps that spot inherits woods that still work the way they should.
The honest close, same as the rest of these: the tools here help you plan, but they don't watch your camp for you. The autonomy card counts the food you packed as a flat number of days and has no idea a bear or a mouse or a warm afternoon got to it first — so that number is only true if you stored it, and it still runs the usual estimate and the roughly two-week stay assumption on top. Keep your food sealed and by the unit's rules, keep a clean camp, watch your hands and feet, and treat the wildlife as the locals you're borrowing the place from. That's how the days you packed stay the days you've actually got.