Flimsy Whimsy: “Scat”

Until that day, I had known nothing about the stuff. But then my teacher Ms. O’Connor stepped off the trail to break a twig off a tree, and said, “Stacey, watch this.” Until then I thought she was a nerdy geek teacher far too interested in science to be healthy. I practically hated her, and had only come on this walk because my friend Brandy wanted to. Stupid Ms. O’Connor kept telling us to walk more quietly and to stop chattering, which made no sense. Besides, back at the beach, life was boring. School was boring. I tried to stay home, but Mom kind of forced me to go by nagging. I knew she’d just nag all day, so rather than put up with that, I just went.

All too soon I found out that scat meant poop. Animal poop. Then Ms O’Connor actually took the twig, and started digging around in the small log shape. “Stacey, come look closer.”

“Disgusting,” I thought, while oohing out loud. Brandy turned her head away. “You can see a rabbit hair.” This piqued my interest, so I held my hand over my nose and bent closer. Ms. O’Connor was right. You could see a rabbit hair. At least it was a hair. “How do you know it’s a rabbit hair?” I asked.

“This is coyote scat, and they do hunt rabbits. The hair is too long to fit on a mouse, and I don’t think any other rodents live this far north. Besides, it’s still partially white, from winter. The scat is at least two days old, too. You can tell by the color and its hardness. Scat dries out over time.”

“Cool,” I said. I think I saw a bit of a smile from Ms. O’Connor. Some days I tell my kid’s and their friends how scat changed my life. Actually more likely it was Ms. O’Connor.