In likely the most moving passage ever written about wading through shit, the late University of Arizona paleontologist Paul Martin described an expedition to the Grand Canyon’s Rampart Cave: Slowly proceeding deeper into the cave, we fell silent as in a cathedral. . . . In single file we walked into a trench, through sloth dung. When we stopped we stood chest deep in layers of stratified sloth dung. There was no perceptible airflow, but the deposit had lost any trace of ammonia or other odors of decaying manure; the air smelled resinous, like incense. No one spoke a word. In the stillness I
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