Crossing the rise just before reaching my son’s high school, I was more than somewhat disquieted to find a local police officer halting traffic while another aimed his rifle at something just out of view. Don’t get me wrong. I’m no hoplophobe—I like guns, in fact. This was simply a scenario I hadn’t encountered in…well, ever.
When I saw the officer in front of me suddenly plug his ears, I reflexively did the same. A single loud, “POP!” and he waved me through. Unable to resist a quick glance to the left, I saw the target: a medium-sized deer that looked like it had been hit—but not killed—by a vehicle.
While the momentary adrenaline spike receded I reflected that, yep, there be critters here. Whole bunches of ’em. This time of year it’s a rare day when I don’t see the tiny speckled body of a fawn crumpled up on the berm on my way to or from work. Fortunately, though, most of the fauna I encounter are still alive.
The variety is amazing. In addition to deer I’ve chanced upon rabbits, squirrels, foxes, turkeys, turtles, and black snakes—all in town. At one end of our neighborhood, adjacent to the last house on the street, there’s a small clearing where I commonly see deer and the occasional fox during my (admittedly too rare) morning jogs. A bit farther out of town we have chunky groundhogs, and I even spotted a pair of coyotes during my daily commute. They looked pretty well fed, which must annoy the farmer who was “hosting” them.
Along the back roads what you really have to watch for are the deer.
Everywhere and at all times. Unlike the expansive vistas of most central Arizona highways, the woods—near jungles in places—come right up to the pavement here. It’s a lot like dodging elk along the Mogollon Rim but without the view. Put quite simply, you can’t see squat. An equal danger to those of us who travel on two wheels is squirrel guts. They’re very slippery when encountered while leaned over in the blind side of a curve. Oh, and they aren’t easy to get out of your motorcycle tire treads, either.
But I think the animal event which really gave us notice that we’re not in the city anymore came during one of my son’s first high school football practices. The team was doing drills on a field behind the campus when he looked up and shouted, “Chickens!” His teammates must’ve stared at him like he’d grown a third eye, because all he could think was, “Of course I’ve seen chickens before. But not at school. On the football field. During practice.”
Apparently that’s normal here…in small town North Carolina.