I dug a hole and squatted behind a sage bush. Overlooking a gorge dimly lit in the morning sun, I settled into a squat and pooped. When my business was over, I cleaned up, filled the hole, and took a satisfied look at the inconspicuous nature of my doing. It was easy as that.
I wish I could say the same about the refuse I saw on my camping trip the weekend prior. Walking into the forest with my trowel in one hand and a baby wipe in the other, I was horrified to see the area beyond my campsite littered with toilet paper. Somewhere down the line, it seemed that people started to think it was fine to leave trash if it had poop stains on it.