The Quick and the Dead

After 13 years of living in Ohio, I am used to a lot of things. I am used to everyone telling me to have a nice day everywhere I go. (Though they don’t realize the pressure they put on you. With all I’ve got going on, I’ve got to have a nice day now?) I am used to small town living where you cannot go anywhere without running into someone you know. (I even speak in hushed tones in public places just in case someone around me knows whoever I might be talking about.) I am used to mid-westerners who say “worsh” instead of “wash” and then tell me that they don’t have an accent.

What I am still not used to the phenomenon of Road Kill.

You don’t see much Road Kill in Brooklyn. Unless you count the kind that wind up in the trunks of cars or at the bottom of rivers, but still, you’re not seeing it. If you do see it, you’ve got yourself what we call “a problem.” But I digress….

I am speaking of Road Kill of the stupid animal kind – mostly of the raccoon variety. Which, by the way, I am all for. Every raccoon that’s dead on the road means one less for me to find on my porch. (See http://thegirloutofbrooklyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/nature-smature.html)

There is no escaping the carnage. I find blood and guts on every road I drive on. Sometimes it’s a dead thing on the side of the road. Sometimes it’s a dead thing on the yellow line. Sometimes it’s a very squished dead thing in the middle of lane. Sometimes that dead thing has been disemboweled by something else. Yes, I know. It’s DISGUSTING!

So here’s the thing: I know everyone is not driving on the shoulders of roads, so I have come to realize that the rodents are getting hit and then dragging themselves to the white line. Sometimes you can see the trail. (Yes, I know. It’s disgusting.) They had all that energy to get there. Too bad they don’t crawl a few more feet, or roll themselves into a ditch. Then I wouldn’t have to see it.

Here’s another thing: Where are these raccoons going in such a damn hurry that they can’t wait 5 seconds for a car to go by? As far I can tell, they are running from an area where there are trees and grass to an area across the road where there are trees and grass.

And what’s with the raccoon mothers? Don’t they teach their kids to look both ways?

The dead deer is another situation. My husband told me that the Highway Patrol has a list of people who they call to come and pick up the deer carcasses. You see, people want the meat or the antlers or whatever and so to make it nice and fair there is a list. ("You lucked out this time Cleetus, but me an' Bobby Joe's next!") If you see a 5-point buck on the median on I-75 and think dinner, you might be a redneck. Check that. You are a redneck.

I did hit an animal once and it was horrible. I was driving on my Aunt and Uncle’s road out in the country and a cat ran out and I couldn’t stop. I was hysterical. I pulled over and Frank drove us back to my Aunt’s where she tried to console me. I begged Frank to please get a shovel and get the cat out of the road. The idea of it continually being run over was too much. (Yes, I know. It's disgusting.)

“Some little girl is going to be looking for her cat tomorrow and I killed it!” I cried.

“No, no.” my Uncle reassured me, “I’m sure it was a stray. There’s been a Tom Cat coming around here bothering our cats. What did it look like?”

“I don’t know….” I sniffled.” I think it was brown and white.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Brown and white? Kinda flat?”