Those of us who live in urban advanced societies place little to no value in animal dung. Our exposure to animal feces relates primarily to the best methods to dispose of pet droppings. This inconvenience we tolerate, as a requirement to have the lovable creatures close by.
Ancient cultures were dependent on animal dung. The Hopi Indians, for centuries, have used sheep dung to fire clay pots that in today’s world command a pretty penny from collectors. The Hopi’s live on a mesa in Arizona, high above the prairie. The top of the mesa cannot support flocks of sheep, consequently the Hopi have developed a symbiotic relationship with the Navaho who inhabit the prairie hundreds of feet below them. Navaho barter sheep dung with the Hopi in order to complete the process of what has made the Hopi pottery a unique art. Sheep dung is the lynch pin for the relationship between two very different societies.
Animal dung was a sought after commodity by those Argonauts traveling West in the mid 19th Century. It was common knowledge, since Biblical times, that animal dung when dry, makes a viable source of heat when burned. There are vast expanses in the the middle part of this country where trees were virtually non existent. Since the primary source of heat for pioneers was wood, the sojourners were hard pressed to find fuel to burn for meals and all other activities requiring fire.
Buffalo were plentiful, at that time, before the great slaughter. Tens of thousands roamed the plains. Big animals make big piles of dung. I will paraphrase by saying,” Ingenuity can create a solution to all things necessary.” The “chips” as they were called were a foot or so in diameter and up to a few inches thick. They dotted the plains like wildflowers after a rain.
The dung was part of the ecological cycle. The paddies provided fertilizer for the grasses that gave sustenance to the Buffalo and other herbivores. The journals of
‘49ers are replete with discussions of the Buffalo and the majestic plains.
Wagon trains, upset the cycle. Collecting a bunch of buffalo chips, at the last stop of the day, was a chore shared by every member of a wagon train. Early in the trek season, usually beginning in May, collecting chips on the prairie was pretty easy. By mid-July it was slim picken’s close to the trail. Those responsible to collect the chips were forced to move farther and farther away from the camp to find sufficient fuel for the evening and subsequent morning fires. Their fear of Indian attack and snakes kept them on their toes.
As long as the chips were good and dry, the experience was not unpleasant.
My novel Equal and Alike has a great deal to do the trek West in 1849. Joshua, the main character in my story, must collect buffalo chips. Join me in the adventure. I think you will enjoy it.