Cow Flop Doesn't Freeze

So I went out with my nephew tonight to get some shots of the moon. We have some pretty cool moon rises around here. I thought the best place to shoot would be along a road out of town next to a large field. At one point along the road, there is a parking area. I turned into it and discovered that there's actually a road out the other end of parking area and into the field. I thought this would lead to a great spot for shooting.

After about 150 yards of rutted bumpiness, we rounded a bend and were met with a wall of dirt and snow. Dead end. I got out and was immediately smacked with an unmistakable odor.

"It smells like poo," I said to my nephew. I figured maybe there was a horse farm nearby. We were in the middle of a field, after all.

I decided to scope out what was on the other side of the snow pile, so I approached, my little head torch showing me what seemed to be a solid mass of snow and dirt that had been dug up from the plow.

I raised my left foot and took a step to begin my ascent. I was surprised when it sank into some very soft...shit. I looked down to see my half buried foot. My mind went into that processing mode when everything seems like it's running through your brain in slow motion. All at once I realized where that odor was coming from, and the fact that it was emanating from the pile my foot was in. As I extricated my foot it made that slurpy sucking noise that you hear when you pull your shoe out of deep, wet mud...or shit.

So gross.

I immediately backed away and walked to a very white part of the snow pile that surrounded the little patch we were in. I started jabbing at it with my foot, only to discover that the below freezing temperatures had solidified the snow again. I was kicking ice. Everything around us was frozen solid...except for the huge pile of poo. Then I remembered a bottle of water I'd left in the car. By the mercy of God it was nearly full, so at least I could rinse off the disgusting crap. The worst was realizing that I'd gotten some on the bottom of my wool jeans.

"Well I guess we figured out where the smell was coming from," I said to Taylor. He was obviously getting a hearty guffaw out of this.

We finished the shoot and headed home. When I got back in and Ruth asked how it went, my reply was obvious: "Shitty."

The result: