On the way to work today, I killed a bird. I am guilty of vehicular birdslaughter which in Provo, Utah is not a punishable offense, thank the gods. But I am punishing myself, people.
It went down like this ... I pulled out of the driveway and started driving down my street. A bunch of little brown birds, the kind that are commonly building nests in your chimney or hanging out at the Carl's Jr. Drive-In, were in the road pecking at what looked like sand. Now, normally these birds will fly away when a car approaches. Today was no different. All the birds took flight when my car got closer. However, one bird took flight and found a speed and altitude that would not put him out of harm's way as my car proceeded along its harder-to-change-than-a-small-bird's path.
I could see the little guy just in front of my car's nose and I found myself thinking that at any moment the bird, like all small birds do, would take a hard turn up or right or left therefore avoiding aviary tragedy. (Not oviary tragedy which is the less common term for when Britney Spears or one of her WT ilk gets preggers.) But the poor thing just kept flying at the same height and speed and my car overtook it. I looked in my rear view mirror hoping to see him emerge unscathed raising a defiant "bird" of his own but all I saw was nothing and what I heard was a crunch.
"Why didn't you brake or swerve, you monster?!" some of you may ask. I have a few reasons:
1. It's not safe for people in cars to swerve or brake to avoid most animals because that action can cause danger for other humans such as me or the ones on sidewalks or in other cars. And, I'm sorry PETA, but people are my priority. I would probably also brake for a deer or horse or tiger or something because the potential for an animal like that to kill me by hitting it is larger than hitting a dog, cat, or bird. If I thought I could have braked or swerved safely, I would have, I think. But ...
2. It happened so fast. Sorry.
3. It was a wild bird. Not a pet or something. There's no little Beth somewhere who's going to cry her eyes out tonight because her sparrow or finch didn't come home.
Did I feel awful after it happened? Hells yes. I still do a little. I took a life. A small tiny life. Not an evil tiny life like a snake or spider or earwig but a good tiny life. But what makes this story all the more sad is that it's not the first time I have killed.
In my 20+ years as a driver, I have killed two cats, a pigeon, a squirrel, a dog, this tiny bird and a flock of chickens. The pigeon met her demise by being lazy. Instead of launching into flight with her flock, she tried to waddle out of the way. Spplllurrrt. Cats just get cocky and dart in front of cars all the time. I would imagine cars are the number one killer of domestic cats (desptie opinion to the contrary). The chickens. Well, they ambushed me. I was driving on some back roads in Alabama and I came over a hill and there they were ... um ... crossing the road. In hindsight I shouldn't have been surprised. But the dog was the hardest one to deal with. After it happened, I stopped and got out to find and tell the owners. When I told them, they started tearing up and saying, "She was a good dog. We all loved her. So good with the kids. Never hurt a living thing. Donated to Red Cross. Cured diabetes, actually." I felt horrid. I still feel terrible about all the living creatures I have slain with my four-wheeled scythe.
I just hope I can change and avoid the trigger situations before I snap and accidently kill again. Please tell me I'm not alone. Come on. Confess. It feels finger-lickin' good.
