When Nature Calls
By DaWayne Spires

 If you are an outdoors person of any sort, sooner or later, the need to answer nature’s call while enjoying outdoor activities will have to be addressed. Being an avid hunter, I have had to address this situation on a regular basis. One would think that such a natural act would be easily handled. For the most part the answer would be yes, but this is not a perfect world. As in all things in life, there are always exceptions. I sampled a very small section of the public; asking them about problems about going to the bathroom in the outdoors. I was overwhelmed by the response I received. It seems that it is not quite as easy as it appears.

I found out that bib overalls are the no.1 cause to the outdoor accident. Everyone knows somebody that has forgotten to grab those loose straps when they bear hug that pine tree. For those of you who do not understand what I am talking about, if you do not grab those straps and secure them properly; you will have a surprise when you stand back up. I believe you should get the picture now. It should be a law that bib overalls should come with operating instructions.

The list of stories I was told are far too numerous and for the most part too graphic to retell in their entirety, but there are a few that are worthy of merit. I hope that no one is offended by the nature of these stories. I will mention no real names to protect those involved.

The first story is about a friend of mine. We were taking a break for lunch after an uneventful morning hunt. After eating, we were just sitting around contemplating what we were going to do that evening, when my friend decided it would be prudent to visit the latrine. Problem was that we never had taken the time to build one. My friend had recently under gone back surgery and bear hugging a tree was not option. I had saved an old toilet seat and kept it in the tool box on my truck so when we decided to build our outhouse we would have it. He asked if he could use it. I watched as he rummaged through the camp looking something that he might attach to the seat to make a proper throne. His son and I both got involved in this makeshift toilet construction. I guess we figured that if it worked once it might work twice more.   We had just about given up, when my ever creative friend came up with an old canvas folding stool that had been left here at the camp last season by an ex-member. He very carefully cut the center out of the canvas seat and placed the old toilet seat on top of it.

“Ta-daa” he said triumphantly, “instant toilet.”

I immediately question the structural soundness of a stool that had sat out in the weather for a whole year. In answer to my query, he promptly placed his plump posterior straight down on it. It worked like a charm. It was nearly a work of art. The fact that it worked at all amazed me. He sat there for a few minutes making sure that it was not going to drop him on his butt. I reminded him that the canvas on that stool could possibly bust at any time. My friend reassured me that it would work this time and that we would work on a proper latrine later. I agreed with him and settled back in my chair with a coke.

It was a proud man I saw heading down that logging road to a pine thicket that was just down wind of the camp. With stool under one arm and toilet seat under the other, he saluted both his son and me with the toilet paper roll in his hand as he left whistling a merry tune.

About five minutes later, a distress call rang from the pine thicket. My friend called pathetically for his son to bring him a towel and some water. Laughter rendered me helpless for what seemed an eternity as my friend’s son gathered water and a towel went to the aid of his stricken father. I was still laughing when both father and son made their way back to camp. I will spare you the graphic description, but I will give the highlights. It seems my friend’s make- shift throne away from home worked just fine. He had finished his business and was sitting there surveying his kingdom, when without a second of warning, what was left of the canvas shredded depositing him immediately and un-sanctimoniously atop his kingdom’s assets. We laughed until time to head back to our stands. Luckily, he had a change of clothes in his truck.

The second story has different twist. To show no impartiality, this story’s about a young lady on a duck hunt. This tale of improvised outhouse technology was told to me by a young lady who works for the Georgia Forestry Commission. It takes place in January a few years ago. Most of the Southeast was stricken with a frigid arctic cold snap. It seems that this young lady who I will refer to as Karen was going on a duck hunt with her boyfriend and his twin brother down in the salt marshes off near the Georgia southeastern coast above a small town called Darien. Karen had deep love for duck hunting and despite the extreme weather conditions was looking forward to day’s hunt. The fact that she did not want to wuss out in front of her boyfriend and his brother had nothing to do with her decision to go. Like I said it was cold that morning, ice covered everything at the boat landing. They launched their frost covered aluminum bass boat loaded down with decoys and shotguns well before dawn. They wanted to be set up and ready when legal hunting arrived.

Karen had on every piece of clothing that she owned plus her insulated waders and was still freezing to death. First light found them waist deep in water in the marshes above Darien. Their decoys were floating naturally in front of them .The boat was pulled over into the brush to their left. A stiff wind blew out of the north. The surface temperature was 13 degrees with a wind chill near zero. It was at this moment that Karen realized that she had to tinkle.

Knowing what her boyfriend would have to say about it she remained quiet and held her water. Time passed and the ducks began to fly. With each passing moment, the urgency that was upon her grew. Finally, Karen gave in. She relented and told her hunting companions that she had to go. Her boyfriend said, “Fine, but we are a long ways from land and going back in is not an option.”

Pushed by her need to relieve, Karen franticly surveyed her situation. Her only option was to put modesty aside and sit on the edge of the boat .Having to endure all the crude remarks from her boyfriend and his brother was bad enough, but to do it in such frigid conditions made all the worse. It seemed to take forever, but Karen finally pealed off enough clothing to get the ball rolling. Even more remarks assaulted her as she balanced her slight derriere on the edge of the boat. She did not care at the moment. She was free, or so she thought.                                                                                        

I know everyone has seen a cartoon or heard a joke about sticking your tongue to a frozen flagpole. Well, you now can add a person’s naked butt and a frigid aluminum bass boat to that list of comical exploitation. Yes, poor little Karen was frozen to the boat. When she informed her boyfriend of what had happened, both he and his brother began to laugh followed by more crude remarks. Unable to bear the embarrassment any longer, Karen gritted her teeth and stood up. In doing so she left behind a couple of two inch wide strips of behind. To make matters even worse if that was possible, everything did not go where it was suppose to; this she did not find out until she pulled up her waders. She kept this to herself and shared it fruitfully with her boyfriend and his brother whom she sat between on the way home. I will have to give her credit, because she toughed it out the whole day and shot a limit of duck.

I have found that when nature calls while we are exploring nature; sometimes an intelligent line of thought does not always follow suit. Should the need prevail upon you while in the woods or on the lake, I ask that think your situation through very carefully. You should act with caution, survey your surroundings, and inventory all materials needed. Because if you do not, the next time my keyboard broaches this subject I might be telling your story.