Road-kill

About three weeks ago, a coyote was killed along Rte 30. It was fairly small, with a coat of blond fur, turning to red. We ride that section of road almost every day of the week, so I saw its body frequently, watching the changes. It lay in the middle of the road for several days until some thoughtful soul dragged it to the side of the road. It settled there into the softer soil while microbes and other decomposers began their work. The fur turned color, slowly graying. The skin began to sink between the ribs; flattening, sinking, slowly returning to the earth. By spring it will probably be a scattering of bones with some wisps of fur, if nothing moves it first.

I seem to notice road-kill more riding on my bike than I did in the car. I'm moving slower and there is time to look around. Frogs, squirrels, groundhogs, the coyote, newts. In the summer after a rain, our dirt road is a carnage of newts squashed by tires, their bodies flat and drying as the road dries. I don't think drivers even notice when a newt is hit--they're too small. I'm sure I'm guilty of running over my fair share of newts when I drove my car this past summer. They are hard to avoid: small, numerous, hard to see.

In all honesty, most road-kill is probably unintentional. It's difficult to avoid an animal that darts out in front of you, or that you don't see til the last second. Automobiles are heavy enough and move fast enough that accidents are bound to happen. It's not limited to autos either: my uncle Andy once hit a bear while riding a bicycle. (It's true!) He was riding down a steep, windy trail, going full tilt. He headed around a curve, and there in the middle of the trail was a black bear. Well, he had no time to stop or slow down, so smack into the bear he hit. He was catapulted into the air and landed in the grass nearby. He looked up. The bear was looking down at him like, "What the hey?" The bear stood up and walked away. My uncle, rather shakily, collected himself and his bike. Neither party sustained any lasting damage, but my uncle was able to show off the bear hair caught in his handle bars for months afterwards.

(After reading this post, my uncle Andy has offered the following corrections: "I was riding a recumbent tandem on a straight road, on the level, at moderate speed, when the bear ran out of the woods directly into my my path. I was not catapulted, because I was not on a wedgie-head-firster, but fell sideways to the ground." Sorry Andy for getting it wrong the first time!)

Over the course of our car-free experiment, Tim and I have each found rewarding "road-kill." In September, Zeb and I were riding into class when I noticed a brown paper bag in the middle of the road. I was about to pass it by as yet more litter, when I saw a block of cheese nearby. I stopped to investigate and all told found five blocks of cheese in their wrappers with a still-cold ice pack. The cheeses were all very good and locally made: cave-aged farmhouse, blue cheese, soft triple cream cheese. We enjoyed a week of high-class cheese and crackers.

Just a couple weeks ago, Tim found a three pound jar of honey on the side of the road. It was crystallized, but seemed to be fine other than that. He put it in a bath of warm water on the wood stove overnight and by morning it was back to a gorgeous liquid state and ready for use.

I guess in the end, all road-kill ends up as food, if not for us, then for the crows and ravens, for the microbes and grubs. The nutrients are returned to the earth and picked up by another organism. Life continues.