[Steve]

I can't do much else while 0327 is in the shop; so I was thinking about a week or so ago when I was driving 0327 at night to fill up on gas and we ran over a skunk. Not intentionally, but the varmint ran out there and despite evasive action it was history (took 3 days for the odor under 0327 to go away).

But that reminded me of the time when 0255 and I surprised a group of roadkill-eating birds in Los Banos. "Surprised" because they weren't expecting a vehicle to roll up on them at the speed we typically operated when doing a beat check.

I’ve racked up a lot of windshield time, on a lot of roads, and have seen plenty of roadkill. There are certain places where there is more than usual and one of those is State Route 152 about 25 miles west of Los Banos, CA. SR 152 comes down from the hills past a large water storage and hydroelectric facility then flattens out for about 5 miles. In one section of this flat stretch there are prairie dog holes everywhere on both sides of the highway. As you can guess they liked to cross the road and some never made it. So there was always plenty of roadkill available for local scavenger birds, and it attracted many. Various birds; the smaller ones would fly in and get what they could until the bigger vultures or hawks, whatever they were, would come in and take over. What always amazed and entertained me was how the birds were quite used to feasting on the roadkill as vehicles approached at high speed and would wait until the last possible second, as if on cue, all flying away at precisely the same time and somehow avoid impact. How do they do it? Is it an evolved feeding skill? Do they like to play chicken?

One hot afternoon 0255 and I were making a beat check. Traffic was very light, we were cruising at 85 mph; mirages danced above the roadway ahead, and the roadkill feeders were out in force. I could see a group of several large birds feasting in our lane ahead; these were big, ugly birds perhaps vultures. We were bearing down on them fast and I marveled at how casually they pecked away at the roadkill, looking nonchalant even as their fate approached at 125 feet per second. Just as we were about to hit them they bailed but perhaps due to our higher speed their calibration was a little off and they were late. They just barely made it over the top of 0255’s hood except for one. He flew right into 0255’s grill. There was a loud bang and a cloud of feathers went up. I looked at the rearview mirror and saw the bird landing in the traffic lane among a swirl of feathers.

When I got back to the office I inspected 0255. I figured it might need a new grill because the impact was considerable. Large gobs of feathers were stuck in the grill, but fortunately there was no damage. After cleanup, 0255 was good to go again.
The irony was not lost: the roadkill hunter had become the roadkill.