Poo

In my younger years, I worked as a Carriage Tour driver on Mackinac Island. The job was to drive a 2-horse hitch buggy for a tour around the scenic spots of the island, while talking about the island to my 12 passengers. It was a great job.

I especially enjoyed watching the new folks come off the ferry and take their first look at the place. I imagined them thinking what a wonderfully low-key atmosphere the place presented. Bikes whizzed around, horse-driven taxis clopped by, and people filled the sidewalks downtown. Many of the people made the choice to take a carriage tour. I’d get them settled on my carriage, click at my horses, and away we’d go. There was a short level stretch downtown, then we made a left turn by the fort, and climbed a fairly steep hill.

When the horses worked hard, they often had to relieve themselves. I would be turned around talking to the passengers, and could often tell by the look on their faces when the first horse poo started. The kids would giggle in amazement. The parents would wrinkle their noses, and I’d smile to myself. Welcome to one of the consequences of horsepower.

pooI’ve never owned a horse, but am grateful for those that do, because horse poo is great stuff for the garden. When our neighbors called to say I could drive over and get a load, I grabbed my hat and headed out the door. I learned that tolerance for poo must be like riding a bicycle. Once you have the skill, you don’t lose it.

There was some skepticism in our household regarding this valuable resource. Words were spoken like, “If the dog rolls in that stuff, he isn’t sleeping in this house!” And, “I’ll make sure there is plenty of hot water for your shower tonight.” Those of you not trained in subtlety might miss the thread, but I did detect that the goal should be to keep the poo in the garden. And I accomplished that mission… mostly.

One Response to “Poo”

  1. Dina Ariel says:

    I thought it was called manure? A rose by any other name…same smell.

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