Yak Dung

This is a pile of yak manure on our driveway. It is one full dump-box load of yak dung. This is the view of the yak dung from our screen porch. It is lovely because we can sit and eat dinner and look at the large mound of yak dung.

The thing about yak dung is that it makes the most wonderful compost. It is fluffy, not heavy like cow manure. This load will go in the new cold frame that my husband and I spent three frustrating hours assembling. The thing was shipped in many pieces with bags of numbered, tiny screws. The proportions are very tight and the measurements have to be perfect for the tiny screws to fit. The measurements were not perfect. But now I have a cold frame. Soon it will be filled with scoops of yak dung.

I am very happy about this, and will be more happy after the first and second frost but before the deep freeze when I can go out and get spinach and chard and carrots and leeks and mizuna, and maybe even after the freeze when I can get claytonia and mache.

The man who owns the yaks, Mr. Hooper, used to own a Christmas tree farm, but he transitioned into yaks. Now he’s transitioning out of yaks and has a smaller herd. Three weeks ago, Mr. Hooper was gored by one of his bulls. It wasn’t the bull’s fault. Mr. Hooper miscalculated the location and desire of the bulls. One bull got Mr. Hooper right in the rear and gored him, tossing him in the air. It’s a miracle the bull didn’t sever an artery or all the other things he could have severed.

Mr. Hooper’s nephew got him onto an ATV and away from the bull; then an ambulance came and, although he almost died, Mr. Hooper was well enough today to scoop five tractor scoops of yak dung into my husband’s red dump truck. My husband brought it home for me.

This is my pile of yak dung.