It was a drive most fowl

By Karen Nace

A white, long-necked bird waited patiently by the side of the road. It was neither his lucky day nor mine.

I was driving north on Old Angleton Road. Just at the wrong time, the bird flew fast and low into my Suburban. Thwack.

I checked my mirrors to see where the poor creature had landed. Nothing. I checked again, even turning around to look at the retreating asphalt. Nothing. I was horrified.

Then, just barely, I saw a tip of one of the great white wings. It wasn’t exactly a hood ornament, but it seemed to be working its way up.

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. It seemed to be waving to me in the wind.

Passing motorists motioned that there was a bird stuck to the front of my car. All I could manage was a curt wave. This was embarrassing and just plain gross.

The drive up Old Angleton Road seemed endless. What was I going to do with this thing? There was no way I could even look at it, much less clean it off under high pressure at a car wash. Sick.

As I turned right on Cemetery Road, I thought I saw a twig sticking up from the front of my car. Please let it be a twig. Oh, please let it be a twig.

As my luck goes, the bird’s large, scaly foot was moving into view. I tried to think of what to do. A hunting-less childhood had left me squeamish for life. Here I was with a large white bird stuck to the front of my car and there was no way I was going to even look at it.

Ah. I spotted the Department of Public Safety driver’s license office. Rather embarrassing, but maybe I could get an officer to remove the bird. At that moment Trooper Clara Brown stepped out of her official vehicle.

“M’am, could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Could you get this bird off the front of my car? I can’t look at it. It’s sickening.”

“Yes, I can do it for you. Just a minute while I go find gloves and a bag.”

I plopped down on my SUV’s back bumper.

“M’am, are you traumatized?”

I shook my head, shielded my eyes so I would have to look at the big white bird, and went inside to wait.

Trooper Brown reported the cleanup complete and I headed out to the car.

“You look like you’re in trauma. M’am, are you sure you’re OK?”

I assured her I was OK to drive and thanked her profusely.

Thank you again, Trooper Brown, for service beyond the call of duty. I’m one grateful wimp.

Published 8/14/05 in The Facts newspaper - Clute, Texas