Poop! I haz it! Some just call it shit, but here at the edge of the civilized world we refer to it as brown gold, Minnesota M, horse hockey, mule muffins, pony poo, Cook County ComPost (CCCP) and more names I can't think of off the top of my bald head. We're talkin' horse manure, a highly prized commodity in the land of, " if it ain't wet, it's rock," or in my case 28 feet of the most dense, ph5 clay you can imagine. You can make pottery out of it right straight from the ground in raw form. Combine this with an extreme desire that humans have to grow food, especially when you don't live within blocks of several giant "if it is edible and from this planet we have it in bulk" stores. The 90 day growing season makes it even more urgent. This is the stuff I am referring to right here on the farm.
In conclusion, if anyone says about me that I don't know shit, they are absolutely wrong! I have witnesses and a lot of testimony that will show otherwise. So there!