Conk, I don't know what amazes me more--the bushwacking trips or the photos and on-line documentation. Both impress the heck out of me.
About the poop, my thought goes to fox. I've camped out on Beach Island, an uninhabited, half-mile long strip of sand in the Chesapeake west of Virginia's eastern shore. There is a little shack on the island and there was a board-walk that led to a ramshackle dock. There is a fox or foxes on the island, which surprised me because to my eye there is not much to forage, but nevertheless, I saw fox and fox tracks are all over, including, in the morning, on top of my footprints outside my tent. The little bugger must have had his nose under my tent fly! Near the boardwalk/dock, the fox tracks converge into a super highway of fox tracks, and said boardwalk/dock was covered with scat. Apparently, the fox likes to leave skat in the open on the highest, driest point.
About the poop, my thought goes to fox. I've camped out on Beach Island, an uninhabited, half-mile long strip of sand in the Chesapeake west of Virginia's eastern shore. There is a little shack on the island and there was a board-walk that led to a ramshackle dock. There is a fox or foxes on the island, which surprised me because to my eye there is not much to forage, but nevertheless, I saw fox and fox tracks are all over, including, in the morning, on top of my footprints outside my tent. The little bugger must have had his nose under my tent fly! Near the boardwalk/dock, the fox tracks converge into a super highway of fox tracks, and said boardwalk/dock was covered with scat. Apparently, the fox likes to leave skat in the open on the highest, driest point.
