No, I didn’t shoot it, I hit it with my truck. I was on the way to the range this morning when the poor bastard ran out in front of my truck. I tried to avoid him and swerved to the left but the big guy was determined to cross the road at all cost. I fear that it cost him his life. I didn't stop to check him out as there would not have been anything I could have done even if he were still breathing. I am not a bird person and have no clue how to handle one that had his bell rung and/or neck driven over. At first I felt badly about the "hit and run" but then I started to laugh hysterically. My laughter got so bad that I had to pull over to the side of the road to calm down. Why did I laugh so hard? I am not sure. Perhaps it was the fact that a split moment before getting hit the bird looked straight at me and all I could picture was him thinking "Oh, Shit!"Since I don't want this bird to die a nameless death I named him STEVE. I think it is only appropriate that we all take a moment of silence and remember Steve for his free spirit and apparent lack of street smarts. Had he looked both ways prior to crossing the road he may have still been alive.
Here is to Stevo; may he forever roam free in the forests of the afterlife.
