<< PLAN REVEALED ~ MAIN ~ MESS WITH THEIR HEADS >>
ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMOOSHED
Animals hit by this site’s fauna-harvesting wheelsmiths:
• A mockingbird
• A prairie dog
• A deer carcass (at 70 mph, with a motorcycle)
• Armadillos
• Bats
• A male peacock
• A scorpion
• More than 20 kangaroos
• A pre-digested fieldmouse
• A hawk
• At least five cats
• Snakes
• Frogs (“I reckon I ran over hundreds”)
• A bee
• A college student
• Many deer, including one that was subsequently eaten
• A rock dove
• A seagull (with a lawnmower)
• A doberman
• Feral pigs
• An alligator
• A pelican
• Seven cane toads (“in one transit of our 110-metre-long driveway”)
• An Indian mynah
• Three raccoons
• Several common dogs
• A feral piglet
• Six sheep
• A flock of budgerigars
• A wombat
• A wedgetail eagle
• A duck
• A kitten
• An owl
• A crocodile
• A dead wombat
Animals narrowly missed:
• An adult black bear
• An eagle
• An ex-boyfriend
• A turtle
• A moose
• A white owl
• An elephant
UPDATE. Richard McEnroe makes a good point:
You left out animals that kicked OUR ass, which included, as far as I remember: a brutal swan, a screaming hawk, a not-dead-yet otter and various raccoons. I probably missed some.
You left out animals that kicked OUR ass, which included, as far as I remember: a brtual swan, a screaming hawk, a not-dead-yet otter and various raccoons. I probably missed some.
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2007 07 08 at 01:22 PM • permalinkHas noted environmentalist/unabomber Ted Kaczynski escaped from prison?
Posted by Mystery Meat on 2007 07 08 at 01:29 PM • permalinkOkay, add a bison, an alligator and a semi-bulletproof red roo.
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2007 07 08 at 01:29 PM • permalinkGaia might feel bad that we’ve left out flora we’ve smitten.
To redress this imbalance, I can relate that I once hit a tumbleweed at 100 kph in a sportscar from which the windshield had been foolishly removed.
Those things have rocks in them !
Posted by Harry Bergeron on 2007 07 08 at 01:45 PM • permalink#7 If we can add processed flora to the list, I’ve had a near miss of a hay bale that fell off an overloaded pickup tooling along in front of me at 60 mph. That was an exciting moment - I learned that day that, yes, you can in fact slide a Plymouth Neon sideways if you slam on the brakes and cut the wheel sharply.
Posted by Blue State Sil on 2007 07 08 at 02:06 PM • permalinkHmm. I didn’t see the previous invitation to contribute. So you may add:
One cow. I slid the off-side of a ‘64 Corvair quite neatly under her head, taking out the windshield and mirror on that side. Snapped the cow’s neck of course. Then I went home, told Dad, picked up the uniform belt I’d gone home for, and went back to perform in the marching band, leaving Dad to crank up the tractor and get the carcass out of the road. The car was repairable.
Another feral pig, though this one was a suicide—it leaped out of the roadside brush and into the side of the company van I was driving at the time.
At least three dogs. Probably closer to ten.
One skunk. I recommend avoiding this particular trophy, if possible.
An unknown number of rabbits, including one genuine (naturalized) Australian citizen bagged on the scenic route resulting from taking a wrong turn on the way from Melbourne to Adelaide. (On that same trip I cleverly avoided adding two roos, one wombat, and an Aborigine to my bag.)
Several dozen snakes. I don’t hate or fear snakes, but they should avoid crossing the road when I’m traveling there.
Bluejays. Three, I think. Bluejays are overoptimistic about their ability to evade, in my experience.
Doves. Three or four. Nothing quite like opening the hood to check the oil and discovering a mourning dove wedged between the intake and the distributor, flapping weakly in the process of expiring.
Several thousand tarantulas, encountered crossing the road in West Texas during mating (?) season. If you do so, run the car through an automatic wash before getting out. Trust me on this. Those things can jump.
Kittens. They will go to sleep lying behind the tires. I was fifteen, and cried afterward.
Turtles, both box and snapping. Don’t try it will bald tires, especially with snapping turtles. (That incident also accounted for several sweetgum saplings, forty feet of barbed-wire fence, and a ‘54 Dodge.)
Looking back, not a bad list for thirty-five years of driving, mostly in the country. No people, though it’s been a near thing a couple of times, especially in Washington, D.C. during protest marches.
Regards,
RicFrankly, I am offended on behalf of sparrows everywhere. Bats made the list, but the tale of my little sparrow didn’t? I’d offer to try harder next time, but I am not sure my car would survive a collision with anything bigger.
Posted by Not My Problem on 2007 07 08 at 03:19 PM • permalinkI just realized, even the bee made the cut! That I could hit without too much fear of losing my transportation.
Posted by Not My Problem on 2007 07 08 at 03:21 PM • permalinkAn addition to my original tale of road killed venison. My cousin and I were driving in northern California. We observed a compact car slowing to a stop after obviously colliding with a young dear. A yearling doe in fact. We politely asked the driver if he wanted the deer. After his answer in the negative we loaded the deer in the back of my cousins’Chevy truck. 24 hrs. later my sister (a gourmet cook)served our tribe of modern savages the best venison roast I’ve ever eaten. That’s two road killed deer we’ve eaten, if anyone is keeping count. Not to mention many dozens of deer dispatched conventionally.
I am reminded of another incident. When he was about six years old, Paco Junior was hit by a terrier that fell out of a tree. We were walking along a dry creek bed, and a maple had grown at a sharp angle from the bank. A terrier had run up the trunk and, as we passed under the tree, he either fell or launched himself at Junior, falling right on his head.
The Husband ate one of his road-killed deer. The other one was too thoroughly pulped to be of much use, and the trooper who happened upon the mess shortly afterwards wouldn’t have let him have it anyway. Around here, the staties confiscate the fresh roadkills, but the local cops will let you keep them, so always call the locals when you bag a buck with your vehicle.
For the record, he still has the truck involved in both hits, an ‘88 Dodge Ram V8 gas-guzzler with 320K miles on it. When that thing is finally scrapped, we should keep the hood ornament as a monument to the joys of making Mother Gaia cry.
Posted by Blue State Sil on 2007 07 08 at 04:28 PM • permalinkI was driving an Army Landrover up on the Cape one dusk and kathumped a python so big it’s length extended over both sides of the road with neither head nor tail being visible.
This was on the bitumen just before we went bush. A big dead bastard of a speed bump he was.
Nailed even more feral pigs on Ops.
Jumped out and ran down a suddenly orphaned piglet and had him as fresh rations that night. Nice break from dehyds.
Old man nailed a german shepherd once that ended up caught in the wheelarch.
Oh the howls from both beast and kiddies as he inched the vehicle forward in a vain attempt to extricate said hound.• A seagull (with a lawnmower)
I think all lawnmower bearing seagulls should be runover on sight!
Posted by AlburyShifton on 2007 07 08 at 04:48 PM • permalinkFawns, the young, spotted, Bambi-types. At least two, maybe three. With a 99” Bush-hog.
Posted by oldirishpig on 2007 07 08 at 04:51 PM • permalinkI once ran over a bike-courier. Does that count?
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2007 07 08 at 05:21 PM • permalinkWhen the list includes a partridge in a pear tree then I’ll get concerned.
Posted by Jack Lacton on 2007 07 08 at 05:32 PM • permalinkWell, today I stepped on my older cat’s tale, and she jumped up and took a chunk out of the back of my leg. Now when she sits down, in addition to tucking her front paws under her chest when she sees me coming (I clipped her claws the other day because they were so long she couldn’t retract them anymore and she kept getting stuck to the carpet; I had started calling her “Velcro”), now she tucks her tail under her butt too. Sure, Gaia may have drawn some blood via one of her creatures, but I made sure she paid for it!
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2007 07 08 at 06:13 PM • permalinkCannot recall driving and killing, but I am a witness to 2 sad homicide tales:
1. Mum driving, night, large owl in middle of road. I assume mum will stop or swerve, as she had plenty of time. Mum keeps driving, owl stays to lose its head, and I look back and the rest of the bird has stayed upright! Mum says never swerve to avoid an animal. I mentioned she had time to stop. She said I didn’t see it in time. Darwins law at work.
2. Brother driving on counrty road, mother and about 8 little ducklings come out from side. other and about 4 little ducklings make it across to other side of road. Mother should have known better.
We have bounced a few dogs off the front side fenders (bumpers) - did hundreds of damage, but dog only bit owner - we felt it evened things up.
I read somewhere some 70 million birds are killed on USA roads each year, and I went BS. Now I’m not so sure!
During the wheat harvest season in Central West NSW the heavily-loaded trucks spill grain from the fields along the highways to the silos. Our native pink and grey galahs descend on this grain in countless thousands and, oblivious to anything but filling up on prime wheat, refuse to leave the bitumen.
Thousands are killed.
#26 - yeah, I experienced the same thing in WA with parrots. I worked with a bloke on one wheat bin that owned an ex-pursuit police car. He was an alco, and he needed to get to the pub as rapidly as possible at lunchtime to squeeze in the maximum number of middies before returning for the afternoon shift.
I think it was an XD Falcon. We’d hear it light up at approximately 12:00:10 and then it would roar off down the road to the pub about 2 kms away. He’d hit so many parrots on the way, it looked like someone was sitting in the boot shaking out a feater filled doona. It was like he was trailing a cloud of feathers.
Posted by mr creosote on 2007 07 08 at 08:23 PM • permalinkI have also been the recipient of roadkill in an unusual manner.
Whilst working on another wheat bin at the weighbridge, a truck turned up and parked on the weighbridge. The farmer hopped down to get his book filled in, and he motioned some of the other farmers to come watch. I was busy filling in his book with the weight of his truck when he reached into the cab, pulled out a snake and tossed it into my lap.
After nearly crapping myself, I realised it had been run over and nearly decapitated. So I grabbed it by the tail and spun it around like a lassoo. On about the fifth revolution, the head popped off and all the guts sprayed out in a perfect arc around the inside of the weighbridge shed. A lovely red dotted line of snake insides was painted straight up the middle of the chest and face of the laughing farmer at the window.
Unfortunately, the door opened at that point and in walked my boss and the district supervisor. I had some explaining (and cleaning) to do.
Posted by mr creosote on 2007 07 08 at 08:30 PM • permalinkOldie, but goodie.
A Maori takes a job on a sheep station in western Queensland. On his first day, Rangi is asked by the station manager to mend some fences on the far western boundary. The manager hands over the keys for the ‘Cruiser ute and points out the two way on the dash which is to be used if there are any problems.
Rangi heads west and about two hours go by. Suddenly a call comes through on the two-way:
RANGI: “Rangi to boss, Rangi to boss…”
MANAGER: “Homestead here. Yeah Rangi, go ahead…over.”
RANGI: “Yeah bro…uh…I mean…boss, I’ve run unto a luttle trouble.”
MANAGER: “What’s the problem Rangi? Over.”
RANGI: “I hut a pug, boss!”
MANAGER: “You hit a pig? Well there’s nothing you can do. Just proceed to the western boundary. Over.”
RANGI: “Nah boss. It’s stull alive hey! Ut’s caught in the axul and he’s kuckin and screamin’.”
MANAGER: “Ok Rangi. There’s a big bowie knife in the glove box. Just cut it’s throat and pull out the carcass. Over”
RANGI: “Ok boss”
MANAGER: “Out.”
Time passes…
RANGI: “Rangi to boss, Rangi to boss…”
MANAGER: “Homestead here. What is it now Rangi? It’s simple mate. I told you to use the bowie knife to kill the pig and pull the carcass from under the vehicle…Over.”
RANGI: “Yeah boss. I done that. He’s dead alright. But what do I do about the motorcycle and helmet?”
DISCLAIMER: I quite like policemen, too.As I was in a semi-coma on Friday due to a high-speed collision with a bar, I missed out on this one. Skittled plenty of critters, canetoad casualties would be in the high hundreds to the thousands, insects incountable, a regiment of reptiles (snakes perform amazing contortions once dunlopped, especially if you lock uop the brakes when passing over the slithery sods) and a manger of mammals- none bipedal but not for the want of trying. Nastiest was getting hit in the face by an owl while negotiating a 45kph corner at 135kph on a 450 Ducati, while wearing an open face helmet. Most spectacular involved a long-haul truck driver I know who ran over a wombat in a B-double, and wound up tipping the truck and both trailers on its side; he lated claimed it was like hitting a cinder block full of the matter from a collapsing super-nova (well maybe not the last bit). Was also in a 310 Cessna which beaned a pelican on take-off which was rather interesting- fortunately the screen was rated for bird-strike so it only cracked; I’ve heard of a chap who managed to suck one in behind the propwash on a single and had the bastard in his lap, most displeased about being taken on as involuntary aircrew.
I’ve lately been chasing crows out of my palm trees with a remote-controlled apache helicopter. Unfortunately it’s not armed, but if you’re really on the ball you can get behind them and clip their tail feathers with the rotors- it scares the shit out of the raucous, ugly, vermin infested sleep-in destroyers.My old man hit an aberdeen angus bull on the Gladstone Rd one night- full moon but the dozy black sod was lurking in a patch of shadow from a stand of trees, right in the apex of a corner. The old boy was driving an AP6 Valiant, and the impact snapped the legs on the beast and pitched it clean over the cabin, landing on the boot and squashing it flat. Result? I written-off car (replaced by the first 2-barrel 225 VF Pacer in Central Qld), and over 1000lbs of mince. The cocky tried to sue for the loss of his stud critter, cheeky turd.
Many delightful rainbow lorikeets used to buy the farm in Rockhampton in spring due to traffic trauma- they’d descend on the town and get pissed as parrots on the fermenting nectar of a particular tree which had bright red flowers; the little buggers would be incapable of flight, and would stagger into busy traffic with unfortunate results.
I once ran over a sea snake with a high-spped powerboat once, clipped the bugger in three bits with the semi-surfacing cleaver prop. Sodding thing must have been ten feet long. Have hit numerous other marine critters over the years such as turtles, but I’ve never managed to score a dugong.
We had a very clever radio call one night at another mine I was on, went like this.
“Boss, you on air”
“Yeah blue what is it”
“Ive busted the wing mirror on the truck”
“Aw bugger, howd you do that?”
“The trucks lying on it”Hed tipped the truck over on a salt flat.
Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2007 07 08 at 09:40 PM • permalink#35 Habib
That tree is prolly a Schotia brachypetala, commonly known as drunken parrot tree. We have a big one in our back yard and the pissed lorikeets provide endless barbecue entertainment during the blossom season.
I have seen one fall out of the tree and land belly-up on the ground. He flew straight back up into the tree to continue the boozing.
On their way home at closing time, many of them try to take shortcuts through closed windows, with stunning results.Dr. Alice—
I took some beer out huntin’,
Gonna shoot me up a bear.
Had a few up in the tree,
Did my huntin’ from midair.
The ground was hard,
The bear got scared,
The rangers was amused.
It’s gonna take a lotta beer,
To fix what I got bruised.—You Had Me at Beer.
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2007 07 08 at 11:01 PM • permalinkThe best animal smooshing story I’ve ever heard involved a mate of mine who’s into civil war re-enactment. He got invited out to some pigshooting near Gympie and he turned up to the hunting party with his muzzle loading .577 Springfield. The other guys were with all their modern .223s and just laughed at him. That is until they spotted a feral cat at about 100 meters and my mate claimed dibs on it.
Apparently a .577 lead minie ball does a very good job of turning large feral cats inside out.
Road Kills I have evidence of:
Duck - he didn’t. It was dark and a flock flew across the road in front of me. Just. My panel beater (other women have hair dressers or beauticians, I have a panel beater…), helped me to re-engage the mechanism in the mirror. It only cost me $10 for a new piece of mirror glass. Pretty good as it was my birthday that day!
I know a bloke that swerved on a gravel road to avoid a low flying duck.
He ended up in a dam just next to the road. He had to climb out of the sunroof in his jocks as his car sunk beneath him.
He was picked up by a farmer, walking down the road in his wet jocks, lugging his laptop bag.
Fuck the ducks - take them out before they take you out.
Posted by mr creosote on 2007 07 09 at 12:32 AM • permalinkOh, poop. Sorry.
HereRoo. No roo here, but you can see where he’s been….
Duck. He didn’t.
There’s Wood Ducks (Woodies) everywhere where I live.
Shooting Gallery.If I had been invited I would have told the tale of the Australian Bustard, which is heavy and flies almost as well as the Spruce Goose. The Bustards of the remote Northern Territory trot while looking backwards at you, then take off and climb to 1.3 m altitude just as your vehicle reaches their locality, when they execute a turn into your path.
Result: a bustard busts through your windshield, kicking fit to bust, and your mates bust a gut laughing at you, your vehicle and the bustard - the bastard.
It was a colleague driving - I was the bastard laughing. Oh, and I also rescued a camping trip after the meat was left home, by eating a rabbit I ran over.
An email sent to me by a friend in Jordan last year…
Abu Chowdah
So we were having a party here last night and sitting out on our terrace when I looked down and saw what I at first thought was a very small lizard (or a large lizard, if you’re not from Australia). Turns out it was a medium size Jordanian scorpion - about 4 inches from the tip of its cute li’l button nose to it’s business-like, “take no BS” stinging thing. Five inches if you include it’s ass grabbers.
I had seen a bigger scorpion before, in 2004, which was about 8 inches and built like a Darwin mud crab, but thankfully dead as doo-doo, under the baking sun on one of the old Roman streets up at Omm Qais.
Anyway, last night’s nocturnal visitor was large enough to generate substantial interest from our guests. We all raced for cameras and learnt that scorpions don’t like paparazzi. Too much flash and they go into the Ralph Macchio thing. (No, not the thing where Joe Pesci saves him from the chair, the other thing where he stands on one leg, ready to kick butt). This produced squeals of fear and shivers of repulsion, prompting more flashes to go off in the hope that we could get him to one-up the Macchio thing and maybe do that Matrix thing. Uh… nevermind.
So, being the only Aussie, your correspondent was egged on to deliver the coup de grace, because, you know, we are famous for living in the most bug-infested place on earth. After backing our nervous buddy up against the wall of the house, I cocked my leg back and zeroed in on his chitinous noggin. Fortunately I was wearing my trusty hiking boots, just like the ones I had seen Dad use to stomp on countless red backs and other eight legged freaks in my younger days. I did not want to let the manly clan down - this would be my finest hour. Besides, it looked so easy and uncomplicated when Dad did it - what could go wrong?
Well, let me tell you, scorpions aren’t like spiders. Oh no, no, no, no. Sure we all know the obvious differences - don’t be so quick to correct me - I’m not that stupid. See, the thing is: scorpions are full of bug juice. I mean, it turns out those fellers are loaded to the gunnels with dark green, chocolate brown and chicken-fat-beige juice, just itching to pop its container and be free.
So BAP! Pink mist time! (Or more truthfully, brown and green mist time). Now here’s another interesting thing: did you know that scorpion innards will fly at least two meters when you stomp them? That’s right, a literal star burst of oily viscera that will reach an altitude of head height.
One minute our little brown insurgent was flexing his ugly stick and making with the arachnid kata and the next thing a deep and ominous silence and stunned, blinking looks, as it dawned on us (me especially) that we had bug juice on our clothes, in our hair, on our faces and even (I hate to say it) in the corner of my right eye.
Well as you can imagine, that silence didn’t last long. I won’t go on, I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. (No Joel, it wasn’t loaded with millions of baby scorpions riding on it’s back, which flew into our open, hillbilly mouths. Not that much imagination, okay?)
Well, thought you all needed to know this.
This message has been brought to you by the Jordanian Tourist Board.
Posted by Abu Chowdah on 2007 07 09 at 05:18 AM • permalinkOn some rainy nights at certain times of year around here the frogs make the road slippery. After that, you see dead crows a seagulls who get hit while eating the frogs. There is a bend down the road that turns into a regular wildlife abatoir.
Q: Why do they salt the roads in the summer in Vermont?
A: To season the meat.
Forgive me if I heard that joke here.
The poor guy in the car behind mine didn’t see the stupid deer which I had just managed to avoid. He nailed it broad side, but his car was one of those shaped like a dust buster. It launched that deer 15 feet into the air rotating around the long axis of the critter - legs still running full speed. As I watched through the rear view mirror, the deer landed behind the dust buster and continued running into the woods.
—————————————————
A friend of mine was returning home late one night when he hit a deer. The poor thing was badly hurt and thrashing around on the road. Moved with pity, my friend sought to end its misery. The only thing he had with him was a very large hunting knife. He took the knife in his right hand, grabbed the deer with his left hand and plunged the knife deep into that same left hand. Not the brightest bulb on the tree, my friend.My dad and first stepmom hit a horse that had broken free. Horse was fine, 1961 Rambler Classic dragged to junk yard.
Elizabeth
Imperial KeeperPosted by Elizabeth Imperial Keeper on 2007 07 09 at 11:28 AM • permalinkSome of these stories remind me of the “Seinfeld” episode where George keeps running over various critters with his car on the streets of New York, which pisses off his PETA-type girlfriend. He complains to Jerry about the animals. Paraphrasing his argument, “We have a pact with the pigeons. They move out of the way when our cars come toward them. What’s wrong with them?” Jerry replies that, in return, we look the other way on the statue desecration. Later George hits a squirrel with his car and winds up taking it to a vet for his girlfriend’s sake and has to buy expensive tiny little surgical instruments from Switzerland so the vet can operate on the squirrel.
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College students are flora, not fauna. Fauna move during the daylight hours, while College students are clearly immobile during the day. Side note: They are night-blooming.