Doskocil: A tired forest elf

Some among us are wandering the wilds of our beloved outdoors channeling not Aragorn or Samwise, but more … Wormtongue and the goblins of Moria.

To the campers who light massive fires during stage one fire bans: Gondor does not call for aid! You do not need to light the beacons of Minas Tirith. The only thing you’re summoning is a raging wildfire. I know you think you’re just making s’mores, but do you need to build a fire ring large enough to roast a whole warg?

To the litter-leavers, the Nazgul of Nacho Bags, the Orcs of Energy Drinks: You somehow summon the strength to haul full cans and snacks into the wild but mysteriously lose all stamina when it comes time to carry them out. 

To my fellow dog guardians: Please remember, your dog’s poop is not a forest offering. It is not fertilizer for the Shire. Whether you bag it or bury it, please don’t just leave it sitting on the trail like a cursed relic from Barad-dur. If Sam could carry Frodo up the slopes of Orodun, you can carry your dog’s business to the nearest bin.

A special shoutout to those who thoughtfully bag their dog’s poop and then leave the bag right there on the trail like it’s a decorative offering. You were so close to doing the right thing. 

We all want to enjoy the wilds of our world. But that means treating them with the reverence of Rivendell, not the chaos of an orc rave in Isengard. So I beseech you, fellow travelers of the realm:

Don’t light the beacons.
Pack out your lembas wrappers.
And by the Light of Elendil, please, pick up the poop. Seriously.

Yours in fellowship, a forest elf tired of picking up after orcs,

Melanie Doskocil

Basalt