‘‘The Saltlick’ in eastern Wisconsin takes its name from the enriched blocks of salt humans sometimes set out for deer or livestock to see them through the winter. This is despite research that suggests it contains no sodium and ‘research’ that suggests it doesn’t taste salty at all- just nice. In fact, that ‘The Saltlick’ just tastes nice is all that people can seem to agree upon aside from its drab physical characteristics which are as follows:
It is a rough cube, four meters to a side, made smoother for the concave northeastern portion where visitors tend to lick. It is white and rough like a cat’s tongue. It doesn’t smell and is no warmer that the air around it.
It is appealing to look at- that’s something strange to say- and it’s difficult to leave un-licked. Impossible, really. There are signs up near ‘The Saltlick,’ warning visitors before they approach too close and fall under its compulsion. It’s unclear whether these signs have been posted by visitors who have undergone the lick, or those that have somehow resisted. If it’s the former, one might suspect the lickers are aware of some boon to be had by licking and are likewise aware of ‘The Saltlick’s’ massive, but limited, supply. It it’s the latter, well, perhaps the licking changes a person. Perhaps it changes a person in ways only unlicking loved ones can see. And maybe they have a point. Nobody puts up signs encouraging visitors to lick ‘The Saltlick.’ It does fine on its own.
People who have engaged tongue-wise with ‘The Saltlick’ show minor, but lasting health improvements. No miracle cures, of course. Nothing is that simple. It tends to right vitamin deficiencies. It tends to lower blood pressure.
The traditional saltlick is set out by farmers. Ranchers. Deer-leaning nature voyeurs. The most powerful argument against visiting ‘The Saltlick’ can be found on the final sign warning of its proximity. It asks:
‘Who set this out for you?’
-an excerpt, Autumn by the Wayside
