Of Sliders and ***t

I.
Two days in the 60s, with full sun, and all kinds come out to play. 

II.
Watching this slider at the lake this morning, I thought, I know just how he (or she) feels. How good it is to stretch the neck, nose up toward the blue sky, eyes at half mast, letting the good heat soothe winter meat.

III.
The riders and their mounts had been out, too, though earlier than I. They left their calling cards: piles of excrement on the beach and the bank opposite, hoof marks gouged into red mud and damp sand. 

These sun-worshipers I do not understand. Oh, riding I get, and riding in beautiful weather I get. But why they think only of themselves by coming where they are not welcome (indeed where they are not permitted) and leaving their ***t for others to cope with and clean up is beyond me.

IV.
When it comes to sliders and riders who slide on their responsibilities, I'll take the first any day. He or she is my kind of animal.