I've mentioned that I live in the country... right? No, but you figured as much. Well, it's true. I live basically in a very cozy middle of nowhere kind of place way out in the country. And in my middle of nowhere kind of home I generally encounter wildlife of various shapes and sizes throughout the day.
Each morning from my bathroom window, while drying my hair, I can peer out at a pair of Cardinals or watch a Fox Squirrel (the Cadillac of the Squirrel World) forage for food and basically enjoy nature, just as I would prefer--from a distance.
But seriously, I encounter nature's creatures on a regular basis, even if I'm not out seeking them. For instance this morning I watched a tiny flock of sparrows hunting up some breakfast under our Magnolia tree while brushing my teeth, which was nice.
Yet, all my encounters are not so sweet and Disney-like. Six months into being 16 I was hit by a deer on my way home one night. The deer basically committed suicide on the hood of my car. Luckily no one was hurt, except for the deer and the radiator in my brand new car. The insurance company said it was an "Act of God." Since that incident I have hit several more animals-- a puppy, a pair of black cats, a couple of snakes, a possum, and a raccoon-- oh, almost forgot--a goat (a story for another time). Generally these animals have ran out in front of my car and it was either run them over or wreck.
Again, I love animals and I never purposely try to hurt them. Well, some of the snakes I purposely ran over-- but snakes don't really count do they?
Now, the animals that I have ran over on my car (the same car that hit the deer-- a bright red Honda Civic that gets wonderful gas mileage and has another 100,000 miles to go) seem pretty normal. I feel like most people around here have probably hit a dog or a cat. Most would say that they have had an encounter with a raccoon or possum at some point, possibly a deer. I dare say that most people I know from my community would also admit that they have crossed the yellow line a time or two or three to kill a snake. But I don't know that many of them could say they've had an encounter with a Herring.
The other day, while coming home from the grocery store I hit a Herring-- or the Herring hit me. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I noticed the huge, long-legged bird on the shoulder of the road. I remember seeing the bird and cringing just a little-- long-legged birds freak me out for some reason (Emperor Penguins also scare the mess out of me--did you know they grow to be 4 foot tall? That's as big as a Kindergarten student). I remember looking at the bird and judging that it was a good six feet or more from my car and completely out of danger. And then I remember screaming as a dirty brown colored wing draped over the windshield of my little red car followed by the unmistakable sound of an animal hitting metal.
The Herring, which is normally notorious for standing at the edge of ponds or bodies of water very still stalking prey (it appeared that this Herring was stalking something in the ditch beside the road), evidently it decided that he or she was in grave danger and decided to fly from the threat of my car, except he miscalculated and hit my car.
I looked back in my rear-view mirror just in time to see a huge brown blob falling onto the side of the road. If I hadn't been terrified of the animal, I might have turned around to see if I could be of assistance, but since I can't stand the thought of being near it's long stick legs, I had to keep on driving.
I feel terrible about the whole incident and I'm starting to wonder if nature sees me as it's Dr. Death. You know, about 4 months ago a bunch of wild rabbits jumped out in front of my car and I about flipped my car over trying not to hit them. You reckon they were suicidal too?
All boiled down-- I expect to hit four legged animals from time to time. However, I never thought I'd hit a huge flying bird.
No comments:
Post a Comment