Christine Schoene Maccabee
Casualties of the Road
At night, I drive slowly on back roads, and even Rt. 550, so as to avoid a collision with a deer, but also to make sure I do not run over an innocent raccoon or possum trying to get to the other side. Unfortunately, this autumn I have seen at least six dead raccoons and many squirrels and possums. I guess they are more active in the autumn, as they diligently work to store up fat and food for the long winter ahead.
Throughout our county, the state and nation, the speed of our cars and trucks kill uncounted numbers of animals, even pets. Most are left on the roads to be picked over by vultures—so such casualties do serve some purpose—or sometimes they are picked up by animal control. Then, there is the rare person who stops, picks the animal up by its tail with a piece of junk mail from her car, and throws the poor critter over an embankment on the side of the road, along with an apology and a blessing.
This autumn, I conducted such a ritual with four raccoons, two possum, and a squirrel. I do this even if I am in a rush to get somewhere, out of reverence for the animal. Last month, you may have seen me climb the fence at Ace Hardware in Thurmont and pick up a large mama or papa raccoon that had been recently killed and was laying in the curb. I put it in my trunk on some old cardboard and brought it back to my property. Once there, I walked over to the far end of my field and left it for whoever would come along first for a nice feast.
Most people would not eat fresh roadkill. However, my daughter and her friend have learned the art of skinning animals, and when time allows, they will conduct a sacred ritual of apology as native Americans do, and voila…fresh deer meat and a nice skin to boot! I am sure they are not the only people to do this up here in the mountains. Over the years, they have brought back many fresh roadkill findings, even raccoons and squirrels. I have never tasted coon, but I know they have been eaten by the Cherokee, who roasted them after soaking them in salt and stuffing them with herbs. Yum!?
Once I found a beautiful red fox, put it in my trunk, and brought it home to my daughter. From it, along with some deer leather, she made beautiful, warm leggings and a pouch. The ethic of nothing going to waste is strong in our family; though personally, I do not skin animals. Instead, if the road kill is not too far gone and bloody, I simply save it from further desecration by doing my ritual hoisting off the road, with a sincere apology. However, just last week, I encountered my biggest casualty challenge ever.
I was traveling back home at night, along a very dark Black Road, going about 25 mph, when a little black form ran out in front of me. It was impossible to stop in time, and I freaked out, as my left front wheel rode over it. I was sure it was somebody’s little black cat. Fearing perhaps it was only half dead, I turned around to finish off the “job,” until I noticed a peculiar, though familiar, smell. It was a skunk!
Now there is a limit as to what kind of animal I will pick up and throw into the woods, and that night I had, indeed, met my match. Thankfully, it was dead, but the smell was already in my car, and definitely on my wheel. I told the poor little mama or papa or sibling or auntie or uncle skunk that I was so, so sorry, left it in the middle of the road, and scurried on home, with my apologies to all the drivers on Black Road as well. The smell in my car lasted over a week, but luckily I really do not mind skunk stink. I know…I’m strange.
Speed, however, is a real problem for me. As a young person, I never liked roller coasters, and I never could understand the thrill of the dangerous sport of car racing. However, on occasion, you will see me speeding to an appointment. Twice, I have been pulled over, and another time I got a ticket for speeding through a red light. I do understand the urgency of getting to work or an appointment on time, or getting home after a long hard day, and there will sometimes be casualties of one sort or another, be it human or animal. These days, it is sadly inevitable.
As I get older, I am getting even slower. We older folk need to pace ourselves carefully, and perhaps that is not such a bad idea for younger people as well. Having respect for a slower car, as it carefully ambles up Rt. 550, is important. Tail-gating is majorly offensive and unpleasant, as well as dangerous, and I am not the only one who detests it.
I love the sentiment in the old song “Feelin’ Groovy”: “Slow down, you move too fast, gotta make the morning last…”. Going slower and being respectful of animals and humans alike is important. You never know whose life you might be saving…and it just might be your own!
