So you know when you're hiking in the woods, and you come across some pile of shit and you really want to know whether it's harmless animal poop or whether it's a fresh turd from a deadly beast that's lying in wait behind yonder mossy log? And then you kind of wish you bothered to cart around your shit ID book but then you don't regret it because the weight on your back is already too much and you're getting to the point where you want to shed things like spare socks and tent poles left right and centre to ditch the weight and mark the way back because that trail of flagging tape is nowhere to be seen? And just at that moment, as you stand still, transfixed by the turds, you can actually feel the fear trickling down your neck, back, dribbling down the backs of your legs. Tickling your nerves. But before you can thank evolution for holding onto that cavewoman instinct, you realize that no, it's not some presentiment of doom but just sweat. Well then. I rest my case for the Scat Scarf.
(Thanks Debby!)
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