Without further ado, there it is - horse shit. Dropped last year from the hindquarters of a somewhat chubby quarter horse named Cinnabar, collected by caring owners Cindy and Darren and piled up to compost into nature's finest fertilizer. And, as they both expressed to us, it did indeed smell good.
Real-life man of the land Darren, right, patiently explains the proper way to shovel crap to moron, wanna-be Front Yard Farmer, Yours Truly, left.
A frisky "paint" named Maria gets all up in Isaac's stuff. Michele encourages Maria. "Bite him! Bite him!"
These are fish - crappie and bluegill near as could be guessed - tacked to the wall of an outbuilding dating back to the 1890s. Darren estimated that the fish had to be at least 50 years old and were inexplicably nailed to the wall of the building by the prior owner of the homestead, who also happened to leave strategic caches of vintage porn magazines in the farm's other buildings, including an old outhouse. Then Darren asked if we wanted an old outhouse. We politely declined.
And finally, the poo makes it home and is spread onto the ground. In all, the loading, unloading and spreading/mixing into the soil couldn't have taken more than 30 minutes. The other 2 hours at the farm were spent shooting the you-know-what, drinking Darren's beer, jumping on a trampoline with Alex and Isaac, and petting horses, dogs, barn cats and the discovery of a dried out crawfish that had made its way from a pond across the street. In other words, about as fun a day as one could possibly expect to have shoveling shit, thanks to our awesome hosts, Cindy and Darren.
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