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| Young Bull moose in "Moose-nook-you-must-look" |
It all began with moose droppings.
My maternal grandmother started something, and that
something was called “Maine Moose Movements”.
Yes, Mammy made collectibles out of moose poop. Trust me when I say that folks ‘from away’
will buy anything if it is ‘authentic Maine’.
You just can’t get any more authentic than hand-picked, freshly
scavenged moose droppings.
Sometimes Mammy’s collectible poops were oven-dried,
shellacked and strung as beads on a necklace.
Sometimes feathers and wiggly eyes and pointy beaks were added…and then
the poops were mounted on small branches or rocks, where they resembled birds.
(Okay…they didn’t resemble birds at all.
They looked like oblong brown turds with feathers stuck on them! But
what else in this world (besides a bird) has feathers? Nothing!
So, using their imaginations, most folks got the gist of it…it was as
simple as that.)
Mammy’s Maine Moose Movements sold like hotcakes--which should
not be confused with cow pies. (That’s a
completely different market.)
However, Mammy couldn’t make or sell Maine Moose Movements
without the raw material. Mammy needed an
inventory. A warehousing system.
I was—and my children were—her top suppliers. We never went for a walk in the woods without
casting about for the cherished offal. I
got into the habit of stuffing a couple of plastic bags into my pockets when we
left the house…just in case.
Yep, when a moose did his business—it was good for Mammy’s.
When friendship blossomed between me and some wonderful
folks from Australia, they were quite naturally interested in stories of North
America’s largest mammal. Just as I was
morbidly fascinated with tales of their bazillion poisonous spiders and deadly snakes,
and their man-eating crocs and their killer jellyfish and that wild, aggressive
bird that pecks people’s eyes out….so they were enthralled with the perils
inherent in living side by side with seven-foot-tall, thousand pound moose.
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| Bull moose in Lexington. Photo by friend Buck Simpson |
Yes, that’s right.
Moose in the plural is still moose; not meese and not mooses.
Goose, geese. Moose,
moose.
Cow, cows. Moose,
moose.
The American version of the English language is adorable,
that way.
In an attempt to familiarize my Aussies with moose, I sent
them photos. Photos of moose in their
natural habitat, and photos of moose poops in their natural state. And then…photos of poops wearing hats and tiny
feather boas. Poops in piles…and poops
dangling from earlobes.
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| Rescued moose at Gray Animal Farm-Maine |
Family heritage is a wonderful thing.
So when my friend Dozy in New South Wales went on safari in Africa,
she asked me what I would like for a souvenir.
Naturally, I said “Elephant poop”.
It was a joke. I knew if I
couldn’t send an alpaca wool ornament from the U.S. to Oz, she wouldn’t be able
to send elephant dung from Zambezi to Maine.
The good news is: I was wrong. Dozy found the perfect souvenir—a greeting
card made out of dried, compressed elepoo!
It was wonderful, hilarious… the ideal gift to receive from Africa.
A year later, Dozy went to see the King Tut exhibit when it
came to Melbourne. Always thoughtful and
generous, she asked me what I wanted for a keep-sake, this time.
“Mummy poo, of course!” I snickered, knowing that was an
impossible request but also knowing Dozy would get a kick out of my
answer. Little did I comprehend the tenacity
of this woman, though! Ten days later, a
bag of scarab beetles (a.k.a. DUNG beetles) arrived in the mail from my
friend! They weren’t actual scarabs, but
they were replicas made in Egypt….replicas of bugs that ate…mummy poo. I laughed and cried at the same time. What a great gift! I was so overwhelmed that I tried to eat
one.
But that’s the story for another day.
Before I knew it, sweet Dozy was planning a trip to New
Zealand for a long-overdue visit to her best friend’s home. Fleetingly, I wondered…would my dear friend
spend part of her well-earned vacation shopping for a gift that was in keeping
with our theme?
Sure enough, she did it.
Dozy rummaged the shops until she found…
Kiwi kucka.
Kiwi. The flightless
bird of New Zealand whose poos are (according to the package) very
strong-smelling; making them easy to find on the forest floor—which makes it
easier to avoid stepping in them.
Just in case you want to make necklaces out of them, you
see.
Only Dozy could find such a stellar gift. It was not only hilarious; it was nutritional
and educational! After all, until I
received her package, I thought kiwis were round, green and edible. But apparently, only their poo is marketed as
a delicious confection.
There’s no way I can ever find gifts for Dozy to equal those
which she’s given me. The woman has
provided smiles to last a lifetime. But
I have to try, right? I mean…this can’t
be a one-sided relationship! So, in
keeping with our theme, I thought perhaps she might get a charge out of this
unique ‘confection’ dispenser. As you
push up on the legs… the tail moves out of the way, and…
Aw, I don’t want to spoil the surprise, so I’ll let Dozy do
the ultimate analysis.
