December 20, 1995
ROADKILLS
It was my first direct encounter with roadkill, by which I refer only to
automotive/deer interactions, (interactions with lesser animals being of
no memorable significance) I was changing the oil on Becky's old (red) Honda
Civic. It had been a very cold December morning in 1988, we were the third
car in a tight formation of cars to hit the poor creature, and now I was
staring at the residual fur and other assorted bits that clung to the underside
of the car, frozen until March or April. Better to do this now, rather than
July, as there was no discernable scent in the cold garage.
The following summer, late one evening, at twilight, a doe and a fawn leaped
out from the culvert near our house, we slowed to watch as they crossed
to our left, never seeing the second fawn until it was too late. After driving
the rest of the way home, as I was walking back to the site of the kill,
a van stopped, pulled the carcass inside and drove away: venison veal for
somebody.
Over the years deer hits and roadkill have become major facts of life.
As the deer in our area are rather well hunted and therefore tend not to
show themselves during daylight hours, twilight and dawn are the most likely
times to hit one, in most small cars, its a tie, both deer and car are dead.
The deer is usually quite a mess, as are the cars, which frequently lose
their front grills, lights, fenders and or hood and radiators, leaving a
mixture of smashed plastic, glass, antifreeze and blood all over the road,
bad for bicycles. I've seen one car, with a terribly shaken driver, with
the front end folded as if she hit a telephone pole. Best to drive the speed
limit during twilight and keep your eyes moving from side to side, watching
the ditches. If you see one, just slow down as fast as you can as they like
to jump at times with no warning. My fog lights are rather useful for casting
a wider field of vision, useful for deer spotting.
Last fall (1994) early November, I was startled by a screech, a loud thud
and some shattering glass. The sound indicated that it must have come from
right in front of my house. My first thought was that it was my dog, who
was getting up in age (14). After putting on my boots I went out to find
a man standing next to his mid 80s Nissan, rusted, minus a headlight, and
with a seriously dented fender, bumper and smashed grill, rather slight
damage by some calculations, although an insurance company would probably
have totaled the vehicle. Over in the ditch was the deer, hit in the front
right shoulder and less severely in the rear quarter, nevertheless dead.
I made sure the driver was ok, and wished him well. It occurred to me that
we had the better part of a fresh kill here and I walked up to the neighbors
and, knowing next to nothing as to how to field dress a deer, inquired as
to whether or not my neighbor, Earl would be interested in dealing with
this.
Earl thought for a moment and decided that it would be quite a waste to
pass up a freshly killed deer that was not in bad shape, so grabbing a hunting
knife proceeded to follow me down to the site. The first step was to drain
the blood, which he did by slitting the throat. It turns out that his knife
was a bit dull, which made the cutting difficult. "Where is OJ when
you need him I joked".
As it was rapidly getting dark, we decided to move the operation into
my garage where the light was better. The feeling was sort of as if we were
murderers covered with blood, moving this body, maybe 150 to 200 pounds.
By this time the dog had found us out and became very interested in our
operation. Heightening the sense of criminality, we closed the garage door
to attenuate the thousand year old instincts that we were awakening in the
Malamute. We,or I should say Earl, proceeded to work on the deer.
"Got a saw I could use?"
I grabbed my best hacksaw, with a new blade.
"Good," he said as he began to salvage what had not been directly
hit by the car. In about half an hour we had salvaged most of the hind quarter.
"Got a rope?"
To which I answered no not really, "OK we'll use this one" And
he grabbed a 1 inch rope he uses in his job as a tree trimmer. "We've
got to let it hang for about two days before we cut it up. I'll come over
on Sunday and we'll butcher it up." As Becky was in Madison that weekend,
attending the last Free Hot Lunch concert and Ellie (who had judiciously
been kept with Earl's wife and daughter the whole time we took care of the
deer) and I were on our own for dinner, Earl invited us over for steaks
(he worries about my relatively low level of red meat consumption and attempts
to rectify it at every chance).
Irrespective of the season, Earl will never cook steaks indoors, and he
always uses wood, not charcoal. So we gathered some wood from my wood pile,
lit his grill, I had a beer and Ellie played with "Za" her babysitter.
Now Augen (the aforementioned malamute) is/was old, but still able to key
into the fact that once he smelled that grill was lit (about 300 yards from
my house), steaks and assorted tasty leftovers were certain to follow in
about an hour or so. As he has the run of the neighborhood (defined as my
and Earl's houses) and is never chained, he wanders over to the neighbors
on a regular basis to check out the leftover situation and beg. Earl's wife
Carol, has been very well trained by Augen, and all he needs to do is go
up to the door and give a howl/bark and wait until Carol comes up with something.
When the magic grill is lit, even more will be forthcoming. Augen insures
that he will be in a position to take full advantage of the situation by
guarding the magic grill from first scent until the humans are through,
at which time he receives his tribute leftovers. After dinner at the neighbors,
especially when four year olds are eating, Augen can be counted on to be
waiting nearby drooling for steak leftovers and plates to clean.
Except not tonight. Augen was no where to be found. I called (he does
not hear very well) no sign of him. Very strange, in fact unheard of. Now
there really is no reason to worry because he always just goes home, but
it was rather disappointing in that we now had to scrape the plates and
waste all the good leftovers. Ellie and I went home, only to find Augen,
sleeping, not in Becky's flower garden or under his tree in his hole, or
in his leaf pile (all the usual places), but right in front of the garage
door guarding his "kill". Venison really awakens his senses in
a big way. The following week, as we were using some venison in a red sauce,
smelling the venison in the pan, for the last time in his life he made it
up all eight stairs connecting the downstairs to the kitchen (his back legs
are giving out).
It was 5:50 am, early November 1995, the one year anniversary of Augen's
"kill". I went to get the newspaper and noticed a car pulled off
to the side of the road, lights flashing. It was near the culvert where
I had hit the fawn many years ago. I immediately assumed a deer kill and
a smashed up disabled car. I figured IUd stop and tell the guy to go call
a tow truck from our house, or the neighborUs. As I got out of the car to
check on this guy, I noticed that he just seemed to be standing around.
Both headlights were lit, not much damage, he should be able to drive.
"HowUs it going?" I asked. "Everything OK?"
"Just fine" he replied. "Somebody hit this and left it in
the road. So I slit its throat and I'm just waiting for the blood to drain."
The leg of the deer flipped over.
"Right" I said. "Do you know if I should report it?"
He asked.
"Yes, call the sheriff and they'll give you a clear ticket."
"Good" he replied. "Have a good day".
By 1995 roadkill, in part due to the fact that I maintain an active deer
feeder (1000 pounds a winter of corn), had become a fact of life.
Happy Solstice.
Drive safely.
Gary, Becky, Eleanor, Augen too.
Back to Beyond Outside
Back to Chuck's Home Page