Road kill

I've written about road kill before (Hugged Hare), after my first experience of it two and a half years ago, coached by a friend.

I'd been interested after hearing about a restaurant in the South West which specialises in it. Not sure if this is still in business but a quick search on Google results in articles about a Kent man, a professional forager, promoting Roadkill consumption (Road kill chef, Road kill Cuisine, Wikipedia).

So, when I saw what looked might have been a a dog at first on a bit of hatch on the approach to Felixstowe's third roundabout, I heard my inner voice (weakly) saying stop and take a look. The voice got louder and more persausive. It was late evening. I double backed and stopped on the hatch with my headlights pointed towards the animal, defending us from approaching cars. I got out of my car, just as another one approached, and pulled up a little way ahead. I called out to the two shapes getting out of the car, "Have you stopped to see this?" "Yes, they said." Two lads around twenty.

In front of us was a dog sized mammal. Not a dog. Clearly dead. Abdomen  distended, teats prominent. I wondered whether it was a pregnant female, knowing that breeding season was probably long over.

It was laid on its side with what seemed to be fresh blood leaking form its head. Not smelly.

I picked it up by its legs. all intact. One of the lads inhaled deeply concerned about something. "Careful he said". The animal was neither in rigor, nor floppy. Still not smelly.

"Seems pretty fresh. Do you want it?" I asked the boys, "Do you want to cook it up?

"Oh no, no. Thank you. We just wanted to make sure it wasn't a dog."

"Good of you. Happy if I have it then?"

"Sure."

They headed off.

I made room in my boot, covered the carpet with reusable shopping bags, sprayed blood on my car bumper, and made my way home.

 

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