Wednesday 17 October 2018

Quiet Road Victims

I was cycling along quite happily today, alone with my thoughts on a calm, wind-less day, when I caught sight of something in the verge.

A barn owl, dead, lay haphazardly; its beautiful silent wings beating no more.

Three weeks ago, my husband, a friend and I happened to drive by a truly horrific sight. A woman in a cycle helmet was giving CPR to a road victim, unfortunately to no avail. The lady who lost her life that day was walking her dog, it pulled her into the road and a vehicle struck her. I was upset for days by what I saw, even more so when I realised that I knew the woman we'd seen performing CPR. But my distress was nothing compared to the deep grief of the family who lost a loved one.

We grieve for people killed on the roads, but we accept the carnage as an unavoidable consequence of our preference for a means of transport that gives some of us convenience, even as it ends it for others.

Whilst in Scotland last week, a red grouse flew into the grille of our hired motorhome. There was nothing we could do to avoid it, other than not go there, nor hire that killing machine. How many non-human creatures lose their lives on our roads each day? Who amongst us can say they have never been a killer?

I shall mourn the barn owl I visited by the roadside today, because no-one else will.

I am sparing you the bloody bits


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