My dear little four year old daughter came in from a long trek with Daddy and brothers across the property the other day. Her feet were cold and her socks were somehow wet after tromping through the snow in her boots, but she told me in an excited, breathy voice of all they had seen.
This is a new house for us, and we haven't really seen the property without snow, so you can imagine the list of treasures which the receeding snow had revealed to her: a tennis ball "for dogs AND for humans, Momma", an "orange thing", some horse poop, aaaaaaaand:
"...some pork poop, Momma!"
"Pork poop?" Hmm, I thought. Did the former owners have pigs, too? And if so, how did my little daughter distinguish pig--or pork--poop from other kinds? My husband must have taught her that...and his knowledge of animal scat must be much more thorough than I'd previously thought. Hmmm...maybe I misunderstood her. She doesn't speak that clearly.
"What do you mean, 'pork poop', honey?"
"It's poop that comes from a porcupine!" She grinned, then paused. "Porcupoop!"
I barely heard the last part, as I was laughing hysterically. She laughed too, and ran around talking about the "porcupoop" for a few minutes, while my husband and I continued to laugh, tears rolling down our faces. I was so overcome with laughter, that I didn't think to ask how she came to think--or know--that the poop was from a porcupine!
And believe it or not, folks, I found a picture of porcupine poop on the internet...
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