
It’s not that Bill Pentler has regrets. Or that he wishes his life had taken zigs when it took zags.
Still.
“I wish I could take a walk and spot pottery shards. Or archaeology. Or wildflowers,” he tells me. “It’s just that with my background I have the knack for spotting this. Really, what I see is all the poop.”
Pentler, the most dedicated city of Albuquerque employee I know, is walking near the foothills in one of the swatches of city open space, with his eyes peeled for that which they cannot avoid.
He spots a pile of dog poop, bends down and places a bright pink survey flag to mark the spot where Spot made the plop.
Pentler is concentrating around the trailhead at the east end of Copper, where hikers, bikers and dog walkers enjoy a warm spring morning. His field of pink flags grows, illuminating the scope of one of the city’s pervasive problems, abandoned dog doo.
For Pentler, a former zookeeper and park ranger and now the education coordinator for the city’s Open Space Division, each little pile of poop is a teaching moment. And each pink flag is a message to pet owners that dog poop, unless it’s bagged and thrown in the garbage, never goes away.

Pink flags, each marking a pile of dog doo, dot the Albuquerque open space at the east end of Copper NE in the foothills. Open space education coordinator Bill Pentler uses the flags to make a statement to dog walkers: Pick up the poop! (MARLA BROSE/JOURNAL)
The flag project, he says, “is a social statement for people to realize how much is out there. If you don’t do something as obnoxious as I’m doing, they’re not aware of the problem. All I’m doing is making a point.”
“Also,” he says, “it’s dramatic.”
When Pentler is finished flagging in an area a few dozen feet from the trailhead, the place is awash in a few hundred flapping pink flags. He posts a plain-spoken sign: “These flags marks piles of excrement that animal owners don’t feel the need to remove.”
And then he leaves the flags in the ground for the better part of a week until a volunteer crew comes along and cleans up the dog doo along with other litter.
The trailheads are the animal waste mine fields of the open space, and Pentler says it’s because they get the most foot traffic and because of the way nature calls.
“Any animal, if they’ve been sitting, within the first dozen steps they will go to the bathroom,” Pentler explained. “And they are stimulated by scent.”
So a dog jumps out of the car, sniffs around, does his business and then bounds away on his walk. At a busy trailhead, that happens dozens, hundreds of times a day. Many dog owners take advantage of the plastic bag dispensers and garbage cans at the trail head. Many don’t.
“There’s a lot of people who feel entitled to be in the open space areas and take no responsibility for their animals,” Pentler says. “I’m finding piles right next to the garbage cans.”
Pentler’s got no beef with the canine set, although he’d like to have a word with one particular pooch he suspects he’s been cleaning up after for years – the dog squats into a bush and leaves his calling card at knee level. It’s the humans, Pentler says, that are acting like animals.
Most common excuses for not picking up after their dogs?
“I didn’t know I had to.” (You do. It’s one of the rules and regulations of open space, and you can get a $60 fine. Your dog is also supposed to be on a leash.)
“It’s biodegradable, so it’s no big deal.” (In this dry climate, dog poop petrifies and can last for years.)
“It’s a wide-open space; it won’t bother anyone.” (It does bother people, and not just Pentler. The city gets numerous complaint calls about dog poop.)
Pentler, a tanned and affable 54-year-old, is truly involved in animal poop. He can rattle off 10 synonyms for poop that won’t get your mouth washed out with soap. He reminisces about cleaning up after eight elephants during one zoo gig. And he can identify the droppings of various dogs that habitually use a trailhead as a potty.
He called my attention to two piles and said, “Same girth. Same color. Same amount. You know it’s a midsized dog, probably a blue heeler-type.”
“Wow,” I said. “You are good.”
“It’s a skill,” Pentler said, “although one I don’t put on my resume.”
UpFront is a daily front-page news and opinion column. Comment directly to Leslie at 823-3914 or llinthicum@abqjournal.com. Go to www.abqjournal.com/letters/new to submit a letter to the editor.
— This article appeared on page A1 of the Albuquerque Journal
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