Well more specificaly, CS. A recent shoot took us to a cattle farm, or maybe it is ranch, I never quite found out. The mission of this shoot was to show the process of how cow waste product is recycled back into the field, so that hay can grow, and feed the cows. I have been around this before, actually a lot, and yet I still do not know about the ranch/farm thing. I will find out next time. This particular fanch (farm and ranch, combined to avoid confusion) had a typical layout. What surprised me was the amount of flies. Old testament apocalyptic God is very mad at us level of flies.

Interior of the barn, or shed, or granero as the hands called it.

I tried a quick prayer of repentance but God would not hear me. I looked at Dan and Max and told them to get to work, and that I needed to run to town and get something important but Dan took the keys while Max distracted me. We were all in this together now. One dilemma was how to breath. Through your nose and the rich aroma would fill your olfactory senses. Through your mouth and it would be filled with flies. You could literally clap randomly and kill 6 or 7 flies with each closing of the hands.

This is the rich black material that fuels the food that you eat.

We gritted our teeth and set about to create movie magic. And the loader graced by us, moving its cargo of fertilizer. The flies would rise in chorus. My lips were becoming dry and chapped but I dare not lick them.

The “casa of caca”

The next phase of the shoot was in the field. I had promised the crew a spectacle of grand proportion with our next implement. It was a manure spreader, capable of spraying crap almost 40 yards. I always have had a secret fantasy of dressing a manure spreader up like a parade float and just as we pass the grand stand, fire it up. It is a mean and ornery thought, but I still smile when I think of it.

I thought it best to have two cameras running so that we could get more footage in less time. I fancied myself directing “Top Gun,” demanding that the Aircraft carrier circle back and line up to the sun correctly, except my aircraft carrier was a wagon filled with poop. I positioned Max down the field and Dan as the cross camera. Max’s shot was to show the trajectory of the cargo out the side.

Max contemplating his career choice.

It was a good plan until I realized from a very far distance that Max’s position was in the arc of the fountain of poo. He held his position… I quickly calculated how he would get home, maybe he could ride in the trailer. The spreader

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