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    Deer Droppings
    Deer Droppings
    Deer Droppings
    Ebook90 pages1 hour

    Deer Droppings

    By Sean Maitner

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Take a journey into the humorous world of Sean Maitner. Join him as he endures one outdoor misadventure after another. Whether he is fishing with his attorney, Uncle Maverick; dreaming of poker playing fish or merely trying to find some relief at a pit toilet, Sean finds a way to paint a colorful range of characters into a portrait of outdoor shenanigans that will leave you wanting to read more. The high jinks begin with Deer Droppings!
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXlibris US
    Release dateMar 6, 2012
    ISBN9781469174853
    Deer Droppings
    Author

    Sean Maitner

    Sean Maitner lives in Western Michigan with his wife, Leslie; daughter Rayne; and dog Sweeney. He writes about the Michigan woods and waterways and his misadventures in them. He also enjoys writing essay and fiction as well as how-to books. If Sean is not outdoors finding something humorous to write about he is probably playing guitar or sitting at a poker table… and he’s probably bluffing. Sean maintains a blog at: www.seanmaitner.com and encourages anyone to log on and say “Hello”. He may be contacted at: [email protected]

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      Book preview

      Deer Droppings - Sean Maitner

      Nature’s Call

      They are out there. They lurk in the dark places of the forest, by campgrounds and State parks, waiting. If you concentrate you may hear them. Most witnesses report smelling a hideous and pungent odor. They say the natives who are wise and are fortunate enough to identify them give them a wide berth. Many whom have encountered them have found themselves emptying their bowels when in their presence. They are… the Mighty Two-Holer’s.

      That’s right, pit toilets. And any outdoors person who has walked a trail with their legs close together, or drank the water out of the old campground well without boiling it first have worshiped at their porcelain alter. In my sporting life I have had countless trips to the loo—where I have contemplated everything from Darwin to Charmin.

      Indeed, a trip to the out-house can be an existential experience worthy of study. Many a time while sitting on their cold hard seats with my shirt up around my nose, swatting flies, I have contemplated the purpose of my existence (as well as the weight capacity of a small plastic seat and its housing components, not to mention the physics involved in cement fatigue). Despite my philosophizing, most times I come up empty handed (which is good considering how fragile and easy to rip the Forest Service toilet paper can be). But sometimes I have a breakthrough (Perhaps not the best turn of phrase).

      Eureka! I once shouted from inside the pit toilet at a campground on the Manistee River.

      What… did you discover some element to the universe that may help unify current theories of physics? asked my buddy Mike who was waiting his turn just outside.

      No, but I now remember putting corn in last nights chili.

      Recently, archeologists digging in India have discovered a 4,000-year-old toilet. It consisted of a tip-able pot of water (for flushing) and came complete with pipe and drains. Also, around this time archeologists discovered the first sporting goods catalog and news periodical. It is easy to imagine some member of a lost civilization leafing through the pages of overpriced merchandise or catching up with the political atmosphere of the times. But these ancient toilets were located in cities. It took 4,000 years of innovation to take one and place it in the woods.

      The beauty of a vault toilet lies in the ease of construction. You simply dig a large pit; place a slab of concrete with a hole in it on top, add four walls and a seat and—viola! Of course there are some simple architectural steps to be taken before the work can be called finished. For one, the seating apparatus must not fit snuggly to the concrete floor and must wiggle a little. This is to help scare those whom are constipated into continence. Also, it helps to vent copious amounts of noxious fumes into the nose of the occupant—all part of the package.

      Another technical addition is the wasp nest. No two-holer is complete without a resident population of some sort of stinging insect. Finally, to be considered finished, the ceiling (which should be covered with leaves and other debris) and walls must be constructed of wood fit so snuggly together that no daylight can seep through. The pitch darkness is important for disguising the possibility that there may not be any decent toilet paper left on the role. Finding enough then becomes a, uh, crap shoot.

      The problem of toilet paper shortage can be overcome with the simple expedient of bring ones own. Having a surplus of tissue paper also allows for one of the most common of practices employed in the use of such toilets—that of the gasket. These come in mighty handy in the event no cleaning supplies are on hand—a good bet at most forest service facilities. To make a proper gasket one must fold lengths of tissue paper and stack those neatly on the seat until they are about a quarter inch think. Then you may safely sit on the toilet without fear of contamination.

      Despite their many charms, the pit toilet is not for everyone. Some outdoor purists I know will insist on doing their business in the open air away from biting bugs and pitch blackness. They find a secluded spot, possibly among a spruce outcropping, and pull down their trousers and commence. This is known by their select group as natural excretion. I call it leaving sign. These naturalists can be weird too. Take the case of my cousin Brian:

      We were camping in a large and beautiful field. Brian and I had just finished our morning coffee and cigarette (an excellent catalyst on bowel excretion) when he got a funny look in his eye and ran off with a roll of paper. His immediate problem lay in the fact that we were in such a large field that in order to properly conceal himself, Brian would have to walk several hundred yards in one direction to the tree line, or so far in the other he would be disguised by the geodetic curve of the earth. As it turned out he didn’t make either one. Having reached a point his urgent and pressing need told him was good enough; my cousin squatted and went about his business, looking this way and that periodically.

      After laughing myself silly for a few minutes I deduced by his posture that he was finished. Then something strange happened. I saw him hunch over staring intently at the ground around his feet. Then I saw his arm go down to the ground. He continued staring at the ground and moving his arm about as if he was actually… I couldn’t bring myself to think it. He continued this strange practice for a time and then, apparently satisfied, he returned to the campsite.

      What the Hell were you doing? I asked handing him the anti-bacterial wet-wipes.

      Burning the toilet paper off. He explained.

      I was about to tell him he inadvertently had broken the code of ethics of going to the bathroom in the woods. The white toilet paper, I

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