Sacramento Road Kill

Death is peaceful.

It's the crossing over...


"I wish I had my tools; I'd take its pelt," said a bike-riding passerby. "That's a jacket right there."

Cold? Maybe. Realistic? Yes. Just the way things are? You bet.

He said it matter-of-factly - not a hint of remorse for her - as he looked at the lifeless deer lying on the side of Howe Avenue, a major, four-lane thoroughfare through eastern Sacramento. According to the rider, it was a fairly fresh kill - happening last night -and now she was a potential commodity.

I'm a compassionate guy and I felt a bit of sadness for the fallen creature, but it passed.
With all I've been through the last few years, my perspective is shifting. Not sure I like it, but it just is.

As I looked at her and photographed her, the feelings I had were familiar, but they didn't feel like they were completely mine. I didn't quite know what to make of it.

Why was I compelled to stop and go back to her?
What is it about death?
What is it about 'life goes on?'

The idea of dying alone.
The idea of dying alone in a strange place.
The idea of dying with no friends being close to care for you or your remains.
The idea of no one caring.
Will you be a curiosity fathers bring their sons to ogle.

What is it about the idea that your life is over and no one knowing anything about you, your life, your trials, your defeats and your triumphs.
The idea of dying on the side of the road...
Alone...

Then reality snapped me back. I was taking pictures on the side of a road where people, texting at 50 miles per hour, wouldn't even realize they hit someone or something.
If I wasn't careful, I could be lying next to her. Would anyone stop?
Californians don't drive very well, nor are they known to help strangers; so, I focused.
I started to leave, but couldn't. I said a silent prayer.

I opened my eyes and there she was again.
Still.

Trying to distract myself from the thoughts I was having, I thought, 'sure, venison is good - very good if it's done right,' but my appetite was not aroused at the idea of eating this roadside doe;the rising bacteria levels was prohibitive.

The cyclist expressed his disappointment that she probably wouldn't be there by the time he got back with tools - and maybe a truck? Heck if he was really a mountain man, he'd heft it over his bike and shoulders and ride off.

I wonder if he'd just get real 'mountain-man' and skin her right there on the side of the road. Then, no, he'd he'd need to get his pick up and some friends and haul her away and do the bloody deed in privacy.

"Some people would take it and eat the meat - it hear it's pretty good, but I'd just take the pelt," the rider said. "Poor doe."

Winter is approaching and a real dear pelt jacket would cost a pretty penny in today's market. My-my, the rider is frugal too. Deer steak and an enviable fashion statement.
Though, I hear they shed if they're not prepared properly.

I looked at her lying there again, cars zipping by. She no longer felt pain, but she will never struggle through the trials and joys of life. I know, "...joys of deer life?"
Why not. Remember Bambi?

I wondered if the driver who hit her took the time to notify anyone. Seems the answer is no.

A number of thoughts passed through me; not to mention that nagging philosophical one, "What's the meaning of life... ?"
To which I promptly answered,
"Shut up."

At times like these, when I'm compelled to grab my camera and shoot, I hear things people have told me through the years. Sometimes, what they've said makes no sense. Then, later on, I'm allowed to live to see the situation that the advice or observation fits.
That's a good feeling.
I really feel God's blessings on those days.

I remember reading somewhere or hearing someone say, "Life doesn't have to have meaning, I do."

With this new Wandering journey I am on in Sacramento, California, patiently (and sometimes impatiently) awaiting reuniting with my son; I have to agree.