Not really. They're taking guard duty pretty seriously.
The first bit of molten fire appears over the field, the eastern sky going bright blue with the dawn. You're tired; there aren't any trees close by, so it'll be a long walk through the sun. You force yourself to stay awake, burning the last bit of adrenaline you have left after fleeing the orcs.
With the sunrise, the camp awakens, and begins taking itself down. There are many goblins, most of them little. Children? No, wait, you remember your lessons now.
There are the common goblins, or il-goblins, no more than half your size if that. The workers, the foragers, with the noses of hounds. You see about thirty of them running around taking down the tents.
Goblin soldiers, or hob-goblins, are the bigger ones you saw standing guard. Tough, resistant to pain, and much stronger than their wiry frames would imply. There are ten of these, some of them with bound wounds.
Last are the bog-goblins, the bugbears, musclebound brutes taller and thicker than an orc. Only seven of these, one with a missing arm.
There is also another figure, bent and stooped over, surrounded always by others which makes it hard to see. You suspect this is a ruling female.
Send in snake, or just walk up?