Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

Driving down the road on my usual morning commute to the university where I work, a pheasant suddenly flew out of the borrow ditch across the front end of my vehicle.  Scared the bejeebers out of me.  I swerved and luckily avoided hitting the bird with the grill of my card.  After a few choice words . . . of the profane type . . . I proceeded on down the road. 

 

Now you have to understand, pheasants and I have had many encounters through the years.  Most of those encounters resulted in no dead birds and no damage to the cars I was driving.  They were a draw that cost me nothing more than a speeding heartbeat and those profane choice words.  On the other hand, there have been those encounters where there were definite losers.

 

One Sunday morning my youngest son—who was in the early stages of elementary school—and I were driving to another community where I was preaching.  We were on the backroads of Nebraska—lots of dirt and dust.  Suddenly out of the borrow ditch a pheasant flew out of the weeds and was blasted with the grill of the car.  A huge puff and cloud of feathers exploded across the windshield in a spectacular fashion.  The pheasant had exploded on impact.  My son’s eyes grew wide, and he exclaimed, “Cool!  Let’s do it again!”  Luckily there was no damage to the car.  The pheasant, well it was everywhere—especially the front grill of the car.  The pheasant lost that battle.

 

Another time, down the road from where we live now, prior to moving to Montana, several of the kids and I were on a house-hunting expedition in hopes of finding an acceptable and affordable abode for our move to Montana.  As we were heading down the two-lane highway, as usual a pheasant was flushed from the borrow ditch.  Flew across the front of the car, hit the grill with a loud thump, and rolled on over to the other side of the road.  It was deader than a doorknob.  The grill was mangled and busted.  Damaged.  Thankfully a few zip ties held it together until we could get back to Nebraska and replace the grill for several hundreds of dollars.  In this case there were two losers . . . the pheasant was toast and I was out of money to replace the grill.

 

That near-encounter with the pheasant on my morning commute brought back those memories and others.  I guess the pheasant must have triggered some sort of PTSD –Pheasant Trauma Stress Disorder—reaction in me.  It got me thinking about all the times I have hit or nearly hit some sort of critter while driving down the road.  I have had a lot of close encounters with the critter kind while driving.  You don’t live in rural areas without experiencing such encounters on a regular basis.  It is part of the charm of rural living.  And I have had more than my fair share of encounters with critters on the road . . . some I have hit, the majority I have missed.  In all of them there came heart-pounding fear and profane words.

 

The flashbacks were of deer, pheasants, raccoons, opossums, a moose once, bears, bison, all sorts of small birds, dogs, cats, turtles, squirrels and ground squirrels, an antelope . . . some I have hit, most I have avoided.  In all . . .  my blood pressure was raised, and a blue streak was revealed.  Usually that would be it and I go on with life as usual, but something about that brush of near catastrophe got me thinking . . . why in the world did the chicken cross the road?  For that matter, why does any critter cross the road?  It is an age-old question of life.  Inquiring minds want to know.

 

I want to know because over the years those mashups with critters have cost me several thousand dollars in repairs.  Three suicidal deer that found their demise by running into vehicles I was driving . . . thousands in repairs.  A family of raccoons that were crossing the road, stopped, flipped me off, and were smashed cost me a radiator.  Pheasants took out my grills.  And it all took place as they were attempting to cross the road.  Why?  Why were they trying to cross the road!

 

Such encounters of the critter kind are not as uncommon as one might imagine . . . especially in Montana.  According to State Farm (Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.”) research, only West Virginia ranks higher than Montana when it comes to these vehicle and critter encounters.  West Virginia is number one, Montana is number two.  Here are the top seven:

 

West Virgina (1 in 37)

Montana (1 in 47)

Pennsylvania (1 in 51)

South Dakota (1 in 53)

Michigan (1 in 54)

Wisconsin (1 in 57)

Iowa (1 in 58)

 

I would confer with these statistics as I have lived in two of the seven.  Most of my critter mashing has occurred in Montana, Nebraska, and Iowa.  But the fact is, if you drive long enough you will hit something.

 

It is risky business this critter road crossing.  The Institute of Highway Safety’s research states that there are at least 150 deaths and over one billion dollars in vehicle damage occurs on an annual basis from 1.5 million deer collisions.  The Animal People Newsletter research points out that lots of critters get hit by vehicles in the United States:

 

41 million squirrels

26 million cats

22 million rats

19 million opossums

15 million raccoons

6 million dogs

 

Maybe the cats got their chasing the rats across the road . . . maybe not.  Who knows?

 

Here in Montana the Insurance Information Institute gives a similar breakdown of the road crossing demise of the state’s critters:

 

88,440 dogs

42,539 raccoons

19,668 coyotes

15,104 turkeys

12,561 bears

9,212 cows

4964 elk

2,470 moose

2,166 wolves

8,927 hogs

1,750 bobcats

813 turtles

 

Thankfully, I confess, I can state that I have never hit a coyote (though no one in Montana would blame me if I did), turkeys, bear, cows, elk, moose (though I had a near-miss), wolves, hogs, bobcats, or turtle.  It seems that I reserve my all encounters with deer, raccoons, and birds.

 

That is a lot of animals . . . a lot of critters attempting to get across the road.  Despite it all, no one can answer the question of “why did the chicken (or any critter for that matter), cross the road?  At least for me they haven’t given me any acceptable answer . . . and the critters are dead.  Dead critters can’t speak.

 

As you can see . . . it is a BIG question.  A BIG question with as many answers as there are critters made into roadkill.  It has been that way since the first critter attempted to cross the road.  I think that question is asked in the Bible—if not all holy scripture across the gamut of religions.  I think it was one of the questions Moses asked God at the burning bush, but it got left out by the original editors of the Old Testament.  Or maybe it was a question asked by one of Jesus’ disciples to their master—Peter maybe, he was always asking Jesus questions.  Whatever . . . the question has been around forever.

 

Of course, the standard answer to the question is “to get to the other side.”  Duh . . . but, why!  Someone said that this was a fairly clever double entendre since it had to do with the chicken dying and going to the “other side”.  But, why?  Why did the chicken want to go to the other side.  Why does any critter want to cross the road?

 

We will never know.  Dead critters—like dead people—don’t speak.  I just wish like heck they would quit trying to cross the road when I am driving down the road.  For the sake of my vehicles, insurance rate, and wallet.  For their sake too . . . I am sure whatever is luring them across the road is not worth becoming a splatter on the highway.  Unless . . . as I have often wondered . . . they really do have a death wish to pass on over to the “other side”.  Only they and God know for certain.  I just wish someone would let me in on the punchline.

 

Darn Bambi!

State Farm recently published their annual “odds of hitting a deer” report.  Using its claim data and state licensed driver counts from the Federal Highway Administration, state that the chances of hitting a deer over the next twelve months is one in 174 . . . which is actually down 4.3 percent over a year ago.  The insurance giant states that it is not that people are hitting less deer . . . there are more drivers on the road compared to last year.  As the number of drivers goes up, the odds of hitting a deer go down.  Last Saturday evening . . . I beat the odds and hit a deer.

Actually, I missed the first deer, never saw the second deer, and smacked that booger into the next dimension.  It was not pretty and I am still pretty mad at it . . . even after I backed up and ran over it a second time!  Darn deer!

State Farm claims that between July 1, 2012 and June 39, 2013 there were 1.22 million deer car collisions which is down 3.5 percent over the year before.  I think that my contribution to those statistics will boost that number when they figure the odds out for the next year.  I guess I am just doing my part in adding to the rising cost of insurance. 

I also think that I am doing more than my fair share of contributing to the auto body repair business.  Those guys are eating it up, padding their bank accounts, and going on cruises while I scrape up the deductible to get my car repaired.  Just like in beating the odds of hitting a deer, I blew the top off of the average property damage cost of these incidents . . . the average is around $3,500 . . . my auto adjustor quoted a cost of about $6,500 to get my car repaired.  Thanks to my smushed friend, the deer, I am an over-achiever!

The odds were against me from the beginning.  The national odds are one in 174 . . . Montana drivers odds are one in 65.  For the second year in a row the Big Sky state finished second to West Virginia where the odds are one in 41 . . . which actually represented an 8.3 percent improvement for West Virginia.  I guess when one looks at the odds in Montana . . . well, I am not really much of an overachiever after all.  The states that follow West Virginia and Montana in the top five are: Iowa (#3), South Dakota (#4), and Pennsylvania (#5).  With my contribution, maybe Montana will move up in the next year and finally overtake those Mountaineers.

State Farm also shared the states where people are the least likely to hit a deer: Florida, California, Nevada, and Hawaii.  I guess I could improve my odds of not hitting a deer by moving to one of those states . . . but my odds would go up in hitting an elderly snowbird in Florida, someone famous and in the entertainment industry in California, a gamble in Nevada, and a surfer or tourist in Hawaii.  I risk the odds in Montana . . . besides none of them have the beauty of Montana or its big skies.

Of course, State Farm, wanting to prove that they actually car about people more than money, has published an infographic detailing how drivers can avoid a deer collision.  How thoughtful of them . . . the fewer deer hit, the fewer the claims, and the fewer the claims the less money they are putting out.  Under the title Deer Safety 101 they share these tips:

--Be aware of posted deer crossing signs . . . as if deer actually cross at those stupid signs!  I have never come across a deer crossing at one of those signs.  Like some woman once argued, “If the deer would only cross where the signs are there would be fewer accidents!”  Duh!  Deer can’t read . . . signs are worthless.

--Deer are most active from 6:00 to 9:00PM . . . but, they warn, deer and other animals can be on the road at any time.  Duh!  Maybe the deer need a telephone hotline for drivers to call to find out when they are going to be the most active . . . I have hit deer in the afternoon, after 10:00PM, and whenever it seems to be a full moon and rutting season is in full swing.  Horny deer have no respect for motor vehicles!

--Use high beam headlamps . . . this suggestion is to bring more illumination to the areas from which deer will enter the roadways . . . which won’t be where the deer crossing signs are!  After reading the advice in the previous suggestion, that critters can be out on the road at any time, I feel pretty stupid driving in broad day light with my high beams on.

--Distractions like cell phones and eating can cause a driver to miss seeing a deer until it’s too late . . . none of the deer I ever hit, and this one in particular, was playing with its cell phone or eating.  It was too busy playing chicken with my car . . . and lost.

But the capper to State Farm’s advice for deer safety while driving was: “If a deer collision seems inevitable . . . attempting to swerve out of the way could cause you to lose control of the vehicle or place the car in the path of an oncoming vehicle.”  I was taught to plow ahead . . . and, I did.  The poor deer never had a chance . . . and, I am now out my deductible!

As I stated, it still smarts to think that I hit a deer.  I like deer except when they are running into my car.  It smarts because I hit it, killed it, and it put a pinch in my wallet.  That is probably where it smarts the most.  Of course folks have been sympathetic towards my deer encounter . . . they have been reassuring that I did everything possible . . . and, they have even shared their own stories about hitting deer . . . but, it still smarts.  One guy I know even said he would say a prayer . . . for the deer.  The deer didn’t have insurance, I did.  After a week I am almost ready to forgive the deer . . . but, not quite.

I am thankful that no one—except poor ol’ Bambi and my car—were hurt.  The odds were against me and against the deer.  Seems I have a knack at hitting deer . . . but, it would be cheaper to buy a gun, a license, and everything that goes with hunting than running them over with my car.  I am tired of beating the odds.  I don’t have this sort of luck when buying my annual lottery ticket . . . maybe they need to print deer on them to increase my odds of winning . . . shoot, maybe even put a lottery ticket crossing sign!  Oh well, I am still here . . . the deer is not.  I wonder what the odds are for a deer having a close encounter with a car?  Probably better than mine!

BUSTED!

Busted!

What happens when a big heart and a compassion for wild critters drives a person to do what the great state of Montana has deemed to be illegal?  You get busted!  Since moving to the Big Sky state the wife was been possessed by the spirit of Saint Francis and has been zealous in her care of all things wild.  This zealousness equates into seven different types of bird feeders in the front and back yards, a bird bath that must be filled at all times of the year, and the scattering of seed around the yard.  It has also equated into a smorgasbord of fresh fruit and vegetables for the bigger, non-flying critters--primarily deer--in the front yard. In the garage we keep a variety of bird seed because not all birds eat the same seed, thus we have seed for every type of bird there is.  The squirrels love this variety of seed to pillage and plunder much to the chagrin of the family dogs.  The result is a wild life refuge right on the Keener homestead smack dap in the middle of the community!  The wife's big heart and compassion for the critters is just not going to let them go hungry--especially in the harshness of the winter.

Despite my best effort over the years to discourage the feeding of the larger critters, the wife persisted in her daily ritual of feeding the critters.  I argued that it was tearing up the yard--grass always grows back I was told.  I argued that it brought in other critters--critters we don't want hanging around and reminded her of the skunk episodes.  Once when the dog food got soaked under the kitchen sink the wife decided that it would be better to throw it in the yard rather than to throw it away.  "Let the critters eat it," she said.  Well, a critter did decide to eat it--a skunk!

In fact, the skunk decided that it must be a five star eating establishment and started making nightly visits to the Keener homestead.  In one of those visits the skunk introduced itself to the family dogs.  Maddie had the common sense to run, Dora (react first, think second) ran straight toward it and paid the price--sprayed!  This did not happen once, but twice!  I think Dora was doing her best Pepe LePew imitation and thought she was in love.  The skunk wanted nothing to do with her.  She was one stinky dog for a while.  But it did stop the throwing of food into the yard . . . for awhile.

I argued that the feeding ritual was "baiting" and thus illegal in the state of Montana--which it is, but this did not stop the feeding frenzy.  I was told the critters were hungry!  But, I argued, it is a five hundred dollar fine!  For me, if it has to do with money, I don't have to think twice about it--I stop.  But you have to get caught . . . or, as in our case, turned in.

Somewhere in our community is a snitch.  Not only were we turned in for feeding the wild critters, so were a dozen other families.  Someone called town hall and complained.  Out of that complaint the local law officer spend last night going around town, knocking on doors, and asking the thirteen culprits to stop feeding the wild critters.  We were one of the thirteen that received an "official" visit.  Of course, the officer was quite nice as he explained the situation.  He mentioned how much the wild critters were becoming a town nuisance--they were forming into gangs and fighting around town.  There is nothing worse than wild roaming gangs of deer!  They were getting hit by cars and trucks leaving unsightly splatter marks on the roads.  They were tearing down fences, trampling yards, picking on the squirrels, and making neighbors upset.  And, he said, some people just don't like deer.  Then he reminded us that it was illegal and carried a fine.  So, knock it off!  That pretty much was the lecture from last night and the one that the wife got when she went to the town hall to confess her guilt.  Busted!

As much as it broke the wife's heart the buffet has been eliminated--the bird feeders can stay, but the free smorgasbord is now history.  I am sure that the critters are not happy, but they will survive as they always have.  In all honesty we are not at a shortage of deer in our area--nope, far from it.  As much as it breaks the wife's heart she is a good person and good people do the right thing--especially when threatened with expensive fines!  For now the bird feeders will have to do . . . compassion sometimes hurts.  So we offer an extra word or two in our prayers, may God watch over the wild critters and keep them fed.  May God bless the creatures . . .