Road Kill #2 - almost a year later

It's been almost a year since my first road kill.

My family was with me. It was a warm summer dusk as we drove in from town on the divided interstate.

The highway must draw the swarms of bugs to it's sun warmed asphalt, because that's where our car seems to pick up the majority of it's extra weight.

Not from the groceries filling the trunk.
Not from the gasoline at 6 lbs. and $2.89 a gallon.
Not from the acres and acres of school supplies we have to collect for the girls.

But from the millions of bug carcasses blanketing the front fascia and windshield of our just washed-and-waxed import.

That evening, the bugs were thick and swarming in vicious packs above the road. The local avian population does it's best to eat their fill and rid the night air of yet another no-see-um, or skeeter.

Many times, I've witnessed feathered kamikaze's dart into my car's path, only to get a mouthful of gnats, then disappear into the night

Many times I've yelled outloud, "watch out bird," as my brain kicks into defense mode and my foot momentarily gets off the accelerator.

Many times, I've wondered just how tasty a mosquito must be for a bird to play chicken (pun intended) with my un-fast and un-furious Civic rice mobile.

But this time...
...as we all heard the unmisakable "thud" of miniscule flesh and bone hitting our grill...
...saw the billowing "poof" of feathers trailing behind us...
...and felt the momentary nausea of yet another of nature's creatures getting snuffed out (think how Ben Kenobi felt after Tarkin blew up Leia's home planet "just for fun?")...

...I knew this would not be one of those other many times.

Comments from the peanut gallery in the back seat?

C - "Did we just get hit by a bird? - My 6-year old thinking like the future attorney she'll become. Blame the other guy. We didn't hit the bird...it hit us.

PK - "Look at all the feathers. How come we don't have feathers." - For a small bird, there was an amazing amount of feathers flying around. PK is in her question asking stage right now.

S - "Oooh, poor bird. Did he come out the back? I hope he's not stuck in the front grill." - Notice how a dead bird becomes a "he" when my wife discusses it. If it made it and survived, I'm sure the bird would become a "she" when described in a future memory.

BTW, in response to S' comments above...

Yes, it did, it wasn't.