This is one of the stories of what happened this summer. While driving to guide a backpack trip on the Cohos Trail in northern New Hampshire, I heard a thud but felt no bump as I ran over a manhole cover near my hometown's hospital. At that moment I wondered if that patch of gray fur that I saw just prior to the sound was the cause of it. I looked back in the rearview mirror and saw nothing unusual in the road, so I thought the squirrel was safe.
Driving through Berlin, New Hampshire, the driver of an old Jeep in front of me stuck his fully tattooed arm out the window making a strange signal that I did not recognize--it wasn't the usual "pass by me" wave that considerate wildlife viewers give. He pulled over and stopped, so I passed him--not having a clue about what that was all about. I continued on my journey so as not to be late to meet the backpacking participants.
Upon driving into a parking spot at my destination, a campground, a bunch of guys dressed in camouflage, who were attempting to fix a 4-wheeler with various tools, looked at my car pulling up. As I opened my door they were laughing and one of them asked me, "Do you need a stick to get that out?" I said, "What?!!!" and he replied, "Look." I then saw the unfortunate entire, lifeless, gray squirrel hanging from the front bumper, arm wedged between the plastic and rubber.
My usual feeling of guilt following a road kill discovery was minimized by my muffled laughter while thinking how in the world did that happen? I also reflected upon the fact that motor vehicle collisions with wildlife didn't exist 150 years ago. And then I thought of my belief that nothing should go to waste, but knowing that the poor squirrel had been hanging for three hours in the heat of summer, at speeds of up to 70 m.p.h., the meat was already spoiled for human consumption. So to the crows and coyotes and insects it went--not really wasted, part of the food chain, circle of life...
Driving through Berlin, New Hampshire, the driver of an old Jeep in front of me stuck his fully tattooed arm out the window making a strange signal that I did not recognize--it wasn't the usual "pass by me" wave that considerate wildlife viewers give. He pulled over and stopped, so I passed him--not having a clue about what that was all about. I continued on my journey so as not to be late to meet the backpacking participants.
Upon driving into a parking spot at my destination, a campground, a bunch of guys dressed in camouflage, who were attempting to fix a 4-wheeler with various tools, looked at my car pulling up. As I opened my door they were laughing and one of them asked me, "Do you need a stick to get that out?" I said, "What?!!!" and he replied, "Look." I then saw the unfortunate entire, lifeless, gray squirrel hanging from the front bumper, arm wedged between the plastic and rubber.
My usual feeling of guilt following a road kill discovery was minimized by my muffled laughter while thinking how in the world did that happen? I also reflected upon the fact that motor vehicle collisions with wildlife didn't exist 150 years ago. And then I thought of my belief that nothing should go to waste, but knowing that the poor squirrel had been hanging for three hours in the heat of summer, at speeds of up to 70 m.p.h., the meat was already spoiled for human consumption. So to the crows and coyotes and insects it went--not really wasted, part of the food chain, circle of life...
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