Bryce Angell is a cowboy poet. Angell was raised on a farm/ranch in the St. Anthony, Idaho area with approximately 75 head of horses. Horses remain an important part of Angell's life. Angell shares his poetry with Cache Valley Daily every Friday.

My grandson pinched his nose as he was gagging every breath. I swear he acted
like he might just suffocate to death.

I’d have to say most people turn their nose from horse manure. The pungent
smell is too much for their sniffer to endure.

For me the smell of horse manure brings back old memories. I can’t forget those
evening smells brought in by summer’s breeze.

While on the farm we did our chores before we went to school. We tried to keep
our boots clean. ‘Twas my mother’s family rule.

One morning feeding horses, they would not cooperate. There was no time to
clean my boots ‘cuz I was running late.

So, my English teacher told me, “Throw those filthy boots away.” I told him, “I
don’t think so, but I’ll walk on out today.”

My Agriculture teacher didn’t mind the horse manure. But said, “When taking
English, clean the horse manure for sure.”

So, I didn’t push my luck. From then I cleaned ‘em till they shone. ‘Cuz horse
manure in English class was scorned. Carved in stone.

One day my father told me “Load the truck with horse manure. Haul it to your
grandma. If she runs out get her more.”

I mulched in all the garden till grandma told me, “Time to stop.” And to this day
I’ve never seen a finer tomato crop.

I gulped down ripe tomatoes. Didn’t care what made them grow. Did they have a
hint of horse manure? Not one bit, so you know.

I’ve shoveled horse manure from trucks and trailers half my life. I love it when I
see the shoveling coming from my wife.

As long as there are horses, there’ll be plenty horse manure. And if your nose is
sensitive, start shoveling. That’s the cure.

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