Donkey poop

  Some people may not have a history with donkey poop. I have lots.

  For starters, I grew up in the mountains. There were donkeys that lived there. They were wild yet somewhat tame-ish. In the field behind the house they would gather and roll around in the dirt. The "bowl" that they created by rolling around was always a curious site to explore.

  The neighbors house had stained wood finish. I guess it had just the right flavor profile because the donkeys would chew the corners off the house.

  Our dogs liked the donkeys. They loved to chase them around. We were always worried one would get kicked. Eventually one did. The dog came home with one eye popped out of its socket. I thought dad might try and stuff it back in. That would have been cool!

  Well the donkeys were real poop producers. And us kids just had to find a use for something that was all around us. What to do?

  Fresh ones were still damp so they could stick to your target. And they made a pleasant shplaat when they hit.
  We never could figure out what to do with the dry ones. So they became, on a quiet summer day, the matter of a truth or dare contest. It didn't matter what the truth was, we wanted to see if someone would eat the dried donkey muffins. I did.

  Of course I did. Who wouldn't?

  Next we come to the Grand Canyon. We are on a hike to the bottom and back up. I marvel at all the donkey scat around. Actually I think they were burros. But the flavor was likely the same.

  I commented on all the ample supply of donkey poop around and how great that was. My uncle Aaron thought that was grand as well. He chartered me a licence for exploration.

  It was my job to survey the path ahead and make sure everyone knew when the path was obscured by the delectible droppings. Ok, enough of the food references. That's just gross!

  So what my uncle had created was magic. My family got to enjoy the wonder of Gods creation, marvelling at all the beautiful rocks, while listening to a young boy merrily travel the trail ahead calling out "donkey poop" every few seconds. Wow there was so much! Woohoo! 

  I remember my uncle laughing til his side hurt! He was bright red and loving it. My mom was disgusted. She hadn't  known I ate the stuff, she just didn't like my "donkey poop" serenade. Ah, the sounds of the canyon and a little boy calling out "donkey poop" for hours on end. Ain't life grand, er canyon that is!