Possibly I’m deluding myself, but I like to think that I’m not too squeamish nor am I a wimp. I will admit that I don’t do well with the dead. Residing anywhere for any length of time one will encounter road kill. That’s a fact of life. Here in New York, the unpleasant sight of a flattened pigeon or rodent is common.
Splat the pigeon.
Whenever I encounter the downside of nature, I make a mental note of where not to look and what street I will side step for the next few days. Every time I do stumble upon some creature’s untimely demise, it is always a bit jarring to me. I am never truly relaxed when I glimpse a mangled form of what was once very likely earlier that same day a living critter. This does not imply that for the rest of that day that image will haunt me. It is an isolated shock in the moment, but then I move on, forget about it and resume whatever it is I am doing. I don’t dwell on the frozen lifeless cat put out with the trash. Okay, that dead cat I saw nearly twenty years ago was exceptional. It has remained stored in my memory bank forever, but usually, I delete these images almost as quickly as I see them, unless, of course I photograph them. Hey, you never know when you might need a picture of pigeon splat.
On a recent rainy afternoon I had to run an errand near my office in Tribeca. Sheltered under my umbrella, I was moving at a brisk pace, focused on getting to where I was going when my eye caught that simultaneously familiar and shocking sight of a limp heap lying atop the corner of a tree planter. I thought the usual:
Me: Yuck.
Then, I did the usual. I looked away and walked past. I assumed it was a dead blackbird, similar to the kind of bird featured in Alfred Hitchcock’s film, The Birds. As I raced away, I was uncharacteristically still thinking about that bird. I felt disturbed. Birds do not normally drop dead atop tree planters. Some cruel creep had to have harmed that poor defenseless creature. I felt outrage. I wondered:
Me: Was it poisoned or shot?
Scene of the crime.
People, their inhumanity and their lack of respect for the living infuriate me. I write a blog, I have a voice, and on a good day I have seven readers (if my friends and sister check in). I am obligated to be a spokeswoman about this sort of mindless animal cruelty. Therefore, I reversed course and marched back to that tree planter, if only to show my compassion for …
A glove with a soggy, furry cuff that a considerate soul in a random act of kindness placed here.
Maybe there is a shred of hope for the human race after all. It might also behoove me to get my eyes examined.
Lame Adventures 
Thanks for the chuckle … now I can go face the day. ;–)
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Watch out for dead gloves, Robert!
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i hope it was a painless leaving for that furry glove, sugarpie! ;!) xoxoxo
*it’s been new baby madness around the plantation*
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So do I! Congrats on the new small-fry!
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Okay, that first photo was a bit much, my friend–the second a huge improvement. I would not have expected this kind of post from you, but I love that you feel this way. You’re a sweetie!
May the bird rest in peace.
Hugs,
Kathy
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That flattened pigeon photo has actually appeared in LA twice (not to imply that it’s back by popular demand)! I’m not quite sure how to interpret that you did not expect this kind of post from the likes of me. Is it because you know I’m a graduate of the Larry David School of Social Ineptitude or because you’re shocked that I have a touch of tree hugging in me?
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Yep, add that to next month’s hearing test. Thanks for today’s chuckle!
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I apogize for not having read previous posts. I probably would have avoided reusing *chuckle*. Then again since two random readers used the same word maybe it was the right word after all.
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Oh please, Mike, no need to apologize. I’m amazed that anyone reads LA, much less returns to read it again since it has (almost) the intellectual equivalent of a Twinkie’s nutritional value. Glad you’re chuckling instead of punching your fist through your screen.
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Twinkies have been give a bad rap. I’m a Suzie Q kind of guy. Is it just me that these snack cakes have gotten smaller? Maybe it is just in relation to my ever expanding waist line. A cruel revelation if that is the case.
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I am sure you and my friend, Milton, could debate the size of the snack cake for days. He’s a Little Debbie’s guy.
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Just want to clarify that Mike and Mike G are really the same person. I blame (again) my technology dyslexia or whatever you call it that I apparently signed up to follow your blog twice; once with the surname initial and one sans initial.
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Your secret is safe here Mike with or without the G — unless this site goes viral. I’m not counting on that happening.
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That pigeon looks delicious.
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Didn’t I read somewhere on your blog, possibly your New Year’s resolutions post (?), that this is the year you’re going to go veggie? Of course that pigeon looks delish to you, pal! You’re probably dying for chicken!
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Out here in the country we, unfortunately, see roadkill all the time. Mainly deer but there are the occasional armadillos and porcupines since they’re pretty slow. The other day when I was in town I saw something lying by the side of the road that looked like someone’s little pet dog that had been run over and left to die. Just when I was beginning to be overcome with sadness, I drove closer and found out it was a remnant piece of shag carpet. What a relief! Guess I better make an eye appointment too…
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I’m relieved, too! Thanks for sharing. I love the happy ending!
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we know u ate it1
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Burp!
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Well, it could have been a bird!! I follow this rule: Indignation and outrage first, then verification. It saves a lot of time. I wish that all dead looking things on the street were actually articles of clothing. I hate seeing poor dead animals and birds who’ve met an untimely death because a human drove over them.
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I’m with you on that sister!
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The dead glove recalls to my mind one night last summer when it was so humid I thought a jellyfish had washed up on my sidewalk (blog post XXII. Jellyfish). On closer inspection, though, I identified it as a clear plastic bag lopped over itself and wet from the subsiding thunderstorm. I did actually have my eyes examined recently. The doctor’s opinion is that they’re OK.
Also — my apologies for taking so long — more to do with slowing down than eyesight, I think — I finally got around to commenting to your comment on my “The Age of Senility” post. Thanks. Yes, careening towards old age is disconcerting — especially upon seeing dead gloves and jellyfish washed up on one’s sidewalk in the middle of town.
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Love the “dead jellyfish” sighting on your sidewalk. Reminds me of the time my 90-year-old mother thought there was a used condom on her lawn. Turned out to be a plastic wrapper from some Slim Jim beef jerky.
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There’s so many places one could go with the Slim Jim anecdote, but I think what comes to mind first is likely to get me punched in the mouth. So I am going to fight the urge. But please tell me that your dad’s name wasn’t Jim.
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I wrote a blog post about the incident and, believe me, it took a lot to restrain myself from following that line of thought, too. My mother had been a widow for about 12 years at that point. Recently she told the aides at the nursing/rehab center who were getting her ready for a doctor’s appointment that she needed to look nice because “you never know when the doctor might be a stud.”
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As a regular reader of your blog, it’s very evident that your mother is a pistol.
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My dad’s name is not Jim, but TexasTrailerParkTrash, is yours? Glad the Slim Jim story fired your imagination Mike.
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You’re certainly in good form today! Your jellyfish comment has been very well received from fellow LA readers. That’s a great image.
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A great image, yes — one of the many tricks my mind plays on my eyes these days. And I love the used condom on the lawn, too. 🙂
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LA brings out the best in commentary!
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It probably says something that it wouldn’t have surprised me if your initial assessment had panned out. Hm, I’ll leave that for another. I’m glad that it didn’t.
People can be cruel to animals and, if caught, they should be punished. That’s probably what the officer who pulled over my wife was thinking when he asked, “Did you try to hit that squirrel?” She was so surprised at the accusation that she almost couldn’t get the words out to explain that her erratic maneuver was an attempt to avoid the animal that darted first left then right ahead of her car.
Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him too.
I arrived via Susie’s blog.
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A cop pulled your wife over because he thought she was trying to hit a squirrel that she was trying to avoid hitting? Or did her maneuvering and the squirrel’s maneuvering collide literally and figuratively and the critter ended up in her wheel well and the cop at her rolled down window while at the same time as people were probably being raped, robbed and killed?
Thanks for the visit Roy. Susie rocks!
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Yes, to your first sentence. She managed to avoid hitting the squirrel. The officer happened to be driving behind her, so I guess he felt that he had to try to confirm what he thought he saw.
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That’s a mighty lucky squirrel unless it crossed the road into the woods and was then promptly eaten by a bear.
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Hope the cops in Glen Ridge aren’t as concerned when D2 is driving it’s tree-lined boulevards.
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Are you stalking me whenever I write about a squirrel on my site? Note to Ray, Mike G’s daughter, D2, loathes squirrels because one had the audacity to run over her head at a family function some years back. She’s been hellbent on taking revenge on the critters whenever she’s behind the wheel ever since.
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Not stalking. It just pops up in my email queue.
BTW don’t you just love that word, “queue?” I’d almost forego US dental care to live in England and be able to use “queue” every day and not get odd looks from people around me. Not sure whether I like saying or spelling it more. Can you say Geek?
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Geek.
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Pot. Kettle. Black. See calling.
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Shouldn’t you be watching football right now?
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I am.
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So you’re multitasking.
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As much as any male can. Bride in SF for the week. Already did laundry, some cooking and grocery shopping. Gonna run to Hume Despot next.
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So you’re saving the housecleaning for her to do when she returns? What a guy.
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Nah, cleaning lady coming tomorrow. Master bathroom demolition commencing Tuesday. Will keep u apprised with fotos offline.
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Thanks for the back-story. I took Mike’s comment to mean that perhaps his daughter was a new driver. When my daughter started driving, everything seemed to be a cause for worry. If a squirrel had run over her head, she’d be gunning for them too. Was a video camera running when this happened, Mike? We couldn’t be that lucky, could we.
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No video, sorry. That would have been perfect. But your assumption was correct: D2 is only 16 and, therefore, a new driver. But LA woman is also correct that her squirrel issues are driven (sorry for pun) more by malice than by ineptitude.
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Glad to see that you two dads are now acquainted. Time for me to feed my pet squirrel, Rockey.
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Oh my god! That is a good one. I have done the very same thing (not with the same glove of course), but it is always funnier when someone else does it. And it had a happy ending!
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“[N]ot with the same glove of course”. I appreciate the clarification Susie!
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Susie sent me…and now I’m wondering if you’d inadvertently stumbled on a nefarious bird murder scene…. Poor thing didn’t stand a chance.
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Actually I stumbled upon a glove rescue scene.
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