Is this weird? The other day I was walking in my driveway at my little cabin in central Virginia and came across a pile of animal scat I didn’t immediately recognize, so I poked it with a stick to get more information. The outside of each piece was cylindrical and very dark black, the inside like Thanksgiving yams. Most important, though, there was both hair and seeds in it, marking its maker as an omnivore/opportunist. The seeds were big and flat, like pumpkin seeds except dark brown. I got all excited: It had to be from a small black bear, right? What else eats everything and wanders through my woods?
A nature-smart friend who saw my photo of the poop on Facebook (yes, I posted it) said nah, just a raccoon that ate persimmon fruit, and she’s probably right. That’s fine. I like raccoons, too.
But the point is, at least out in nature, I stop for poop. (Note to self: New bumper sticker idea.) Whether deer kibble or fox dukie, I always take a peek at it, enjoying that these critters are all around me just doing their natural thing. We get plenty of the ubiquitous foxes and deer, but also coyotes and owls, various rodents and raccoons, plenty of dogs (less exciting), and yes, occasionally bear. There’s so much information in their feces: What’s being eaten tells us about the food web and the season, and the color, texture, and consistency of scat is data about the health of the animal, if you know what to look for. It’s really not gross at all. (And I’ve noticed most wild animal poop doesn’t even stink. We’re the gross ones in that respect.)
Being disgusted by poo is certainly normal and probably smart; our cringe reaction to it is instinctive and protective against whatever microbial or parasitic funk might be tucked inside. (Did you know the “disgust” face is common across mammals? Dogs do it. Lions do it. We do it. Whether or not ants do it, I don’t know. But even insects know when to back away.) We’re meant to keep our distance, holding our noses. Some of us are just odd. (Me.)
Recently, while researching a book on dog intelligence, I spent time with a scientist, Deborah Giles, who studies orcas around the San Juan Islands. She has trained her little dog Eba to sniff out whale poop floating on the surface of the sea. Eba’s body language while on the boat, scampering from one side to the other with her nose in the air, leads the researcher to steer toward the mass so she can sample it before it sinks. From those samples, which she sends to a lab for various tests, she can deduce whether a whale is properly nourished, its reproductive status, its stress level, and even where it’s been feeding (different waterways have unique chemical signatures that show up in the whales’ prey). That’s all really helpful information when you’re monitoring the status of a population of animals.
To give the dogs their due, they are trained to sniff out all kinds of animal poop on land, as part of various conservation efforts, but doing it on the water is extra special. Dog Smart, that book I mentioned, which is coming out in the spring, includes discussion of this cool olfactory service some dogs provide.
Human poop also tells tales, though we tend to flush away their messages. The Bristol Stool Chart was a “form scale” developed in 1997 to help docs assess gastrointestinal health, and I’ve been tempted to frame a copy and hang it in my bathroom, to help normalize poop examination. (You’re welcome to do the same.) It’s actually really important to consider what your gut is putting out. An unpleasant task, maybe, but a good habit nonetheless.
There’s so much extra one can say about poop, but my gut tells me I’ve said enough to get you through your day. I’m sure more will come out in the future.
By the way, here are some horrendous puns I thought about using in this post but didn’t. (You’re welcome.)
I don’t want to make a big stink about it…
It works in a pinch…
It doesn’t pass the smell test…
Flushing out the information…
The data is a little mushy…
To squeeze a little more out of that idea… (bear down on also works)
I’ll let you digest that fact...
We don’t know squat…
It’s a little hard to swallow…
There are piles of data…
It’s a really crappy job…
It’s my duty to tell you…
What a waste…
And SO many more. I didn’t even get into all the possibilities with “shit!” But let’s leave it there. You know, like a little pile of poo.
HaHaHa! I love this.
Speaking of the wonders of nature, remind me to tell you about bears and babysitter trees.
No pun intestined.