March 19, 2007
 I have always been a road kill observer.  As such, it is not uncommon for me to pull off to the side of the road or execute a U-turn to re-examine a hastily viewed carcass.  This habit began from the day I could drive and continues to the present day.  My wife will tell you how I pulled over, while dating her many years ago, to retrieve the body of a cardinal (aside from being dead, it was in perfect condition, by the way).  Possibly with the hope that this behavior would stop, she married me and we had three kids.  Well, my kids will tell you about the times we pulled over to examine a fly ridden moose corpse in Canada, or stopped to collect quills from a long dead Porcupine, or examined a potential rattlesnake in Pennsylvania.  She is still my wife, by the way.

  Please understand that the pavement specimens in question are always assessed for their educational value.  Some are frozen for later taxidermy work, others are only good for, shall we say – “parts”, while others make me sorry that I stopped at all once the breeze shifted (the Pennsylvania rattlesnake, for instance). Most serve as population assessment tools.  I’ve always been a natural history educator, even before I actually was one, so the opportunity to examine road kill is a natural thing. 

  Whether they mention it in proper company or not, everyone notices road kills.  You swerve around them and pinch your nose when passing the black and white ones. It is as a public service, therefore, that I feel the need to point out some recent road kill trends and what they mean. 

  That Raccoons and Opossums are not born dead along the side of the road, may be a surprise to some.  Within the last month, the raccoons have far outdone the opossums and rather put them to shame.  Both of these creatures become especially active in late winter – especially after the end of this bitter cold February.  Neither animal hibernates, but they do hole up for extended periods.  Both emerge hungry and find carrion much to their liking.  Put the two facts together and you have the Ted Nugent scenario of “Whack ‘em and stack ‘em” as they seek carrion in the form of fresh road kills and are whacked by automobiles.  This is why roadkills are often in “sets.” There’s a lot more to say about these beasts, but I’ll save it for another time.

  Within the last week or so, Muskrats have made their appearance as roadside décor.  Although I am tempted to say that they were just trying to show the ‘possums and ‘coons how to properly cross the road, that would be an unscientific observation.  With their huge hind feet and tiny front paws, muskrats are ill suited for land travel and can only manage an accelerated waddle while on land (or tarmac).  They are water creatures fit for swimming.  So, why would they “try to cross the road?”  The answer – “to get to the other side.”

  Muskrats turn their thoughts to making little muskrats in late winter.  The males begin to compete for the attentions of the females and the females become territorial.  Biting fights frequently result and the young, weak, or inexperienced muskrats are forced to seek greener pastures.  They pack up their musk glands and spread out from their home range.  The lucky ones find habitable marsh space only a short swim away, but the unlucky ones are forced to wander far and wide. Many become victims of coyotes, fox, mink and hawks while others are sent to their maker by the likes of a Lincoln, Land Rover or a Lexus. Major roadways like I-75 or Telegraph have to be crossed by these hapless refugees in order to reach fresh habitat on the other side. Most of them make it, but many don’t.

  Locally the muskrat population is at high point, so there is the expectation that there will be a lot more little muskrat carpets to be seen this year before spring settles down.  The period is relatively brief and the raccoons, ‘possums and rabbits will soon return to sole ownership of the centerline and the muskrats will stick to their marsh.

  There are two things to draw from this discussion.  First of all, you can now consider muskrat road kill as a sure sign of spring.  Perhaps you can mark it on your calendar next year (remember, its right around the time the muskrat meals are advertised).  Secondly, use this as a memory trick to remember the Algonquin Native name for the Muskrat.  In that tongue he is called “Musquash.”