There are days when the news cycle offers up a glorious harvest of opportunity. This is one such moment. Today’s column will be talking Smut. This term is used so the sensibilities of the public will be less offended than by its cousin word that also begins with S.
If the sagacious solons of the city of Presque Isle are to be believed, there is a smut problem in the Star City. Smut is clogging our public streets. Suggestions are needed. When councilors begin discussing smut, hip waders and clothespins become the uniform of the day.
The issue of smut remains a perplexing issue for the city. The city’s finest has never solved the mystery of the purloined poo, pilfered from the police — a city garbage can filled with elephant poo. People were perplexed. Where was the poo? Why would someone steal it? Especially since it was being investigated as a hazardous spill. Can smut harm?
The case arose from the Anah Temple Shrine Circus. The yearly event moved from Caribou to Presque Isle. Elephants and clowns were the primary thrills. If you have an elephant in town, everyone wants to see it. Elephants are organic devices with large floppy ears, long noses and incredible appetites. Horses are similar. Hay, oats and other organic products are put in, processed, and the result is S-M-U-T — an odoriferous substance that causes city people palpitations.
Healthy horse smut presents itself in packets of compact shape and size. It is also called droppings, road apples, or horse pucks. A pile of these droppings attracts kids of all ages to opportunities of amusement. Nothing like hearing mom and dad go through a long list of colorful words with vehement exhortations while cleaning shoes of the substance. Elephant poo looks like cannonballs.
Aroostook County is an agriculture county. Farming has been a mainstay of this County for more than 150 years. Animals are raised on farms. They provide companionship, power and food. Like people, they need to move from point A to point B. Unlike people, animals are mostly naked. Thus it is a logical conclusion that an animal is going to evacuate its bowels. Horses and elephants are defecating machines. Food in produces smut out.
That spring when the elephants came to Presque Isle, they were treated with a trip to Riverside Drive. Open space, a stream to play in and some healthy exercise — who could ask for more? Droppings were produced. The Public Works Department rallied to the cause and collected the smut balls in a barrel. Someone unfamiliar with elephant excrement worried about exotic bugs that might threaten denizens of the Star City. Caribou had never had such a problem with poo.
The response was fast and intense. Police were called and the barrel was hauled off to some secure site where it could not endanger the community. Public statements were issued and the Department of Environmental Protection Hazmat team, newly constituted, was contacted. It was a major incident with lots of public officials pontificating for the news outlets of the time. Calls were made to offices in Augusta and points beyond. Within 24 hours, the all-clear was given, and with great ceremony the barrel was introduced to the public.
It was empty. The poo had disappeared from a secure location. Fingers pointed, tempers flared, and reporters wrote.
One such story attempted to answer the question, “Why would someone steal a barrel of elephant smut?” The subject who answered this question was lit from behind the camera in silhouette. “Jimmy” had a reputation for messed-up hair. He replied, “Why, it’s to grow them really big tomatoes.”
Presque Isle Police were not able to solve the case of the stolen poo. The Hazmat team practiced their sighs and shoulder shrugs.
Today animal smut is considered detritus. If you do not like it where it is, get a shovel and move it some other place. The DEP Hazardous Materials Response Unit will not be responding. Thirty years and smut remains the same: Brown, stinky and 100 percent organic. What is the Star City to do? Coming up, how the city might turn the stench of smut to the positive power of poo.
Orpheus Allison is a photojournalist living in The County who graduated from UMPI and earned a master of liberal arts degree from the University of North Carolina. He began his journalism career at WAGM television later working in many different areas of the US. After 20 years of television he changed careers and taught in China and Korea.
