Roadkill makes me cry

Kangaroos on the school oval - a potential road risk for all of us (and especially them!)

Gosh, it's been a while since I felt inspired to write anything apart from anti-government rants. You'll probably be pleased to know I won't be mentioning anything about politicians rorting their 'entitlements'  to fly their families Business Class on holidays - and I'm staying well away from the topic of helicopters.

My topic this time is the unbelievable sadness I feel when I see roadkill.

I'm a crazy cat-lady, an animal lover and a campaigner for animal rights. I'm also getting older, and the older I get, the more upset I am by some things. One of these things is roadkill.

It's always upset me to see the remains of beautiful animals by the roadside. As a motorcyclist I have always been extremely aware of the likelihood of animals leaping out in front of me, because that could spell disaster or death for me as well as for the animal. As a car driver I am more sheltered from that fear, which is a Very Bad Thing as far as I'm concerned. People who've never ridden a motorcycle have ALWAYS been sheltered from that fear.

The reality for Aussie car drivers is that if they hit an animal, their likeliest worst case scenario is a hefty bill for panel-beating (and perhaps towing) . For most drivers it will mean some inconvenience and a minor insurance claim.

Between Cooma and Canberra at the moment there must be a LOT of tow-truck operators and a shitload of panel-beaters making a SHITLOAD of money!

On a return trip to Canberra yesterday I was saddened - no, saddened isn't strong enough.... horrified? devastated? shattered? to see roadkill about every 50 metres on the Monaro Highway between Cooma and Canberra. Wombats, foxes, little roos, medium roos, giant roos with hands the size of mine, their clawed fingers splayed...

Ultimately, though,  what I saw wasn't just corpses of animals twisted into the undignified shapes of sudden, violent death. It wasn't the misery of motorists who'd totalled their cars whacking them. I felt a horrible sort of vicarious pain.

Sometimes I think I must be going mad - but what I saw when I saw the contorted wreckage of vibrant native wildlife (and the odd introduced fox!) was suffering: awful, lonely, bellies-exposed suffering in the depths of winter. Sad, lonely, uncomforted deaths, unrecorded and unreported. No ambulance comes to help you. Nobody sits with you and holds you till the ambulance or the Grim
Reaper arrives. Nobody cares. They care instead about the damage you may have done to their car or truck as they sped to the ski-fields, or home. You are the cause of their misery; their collateral damage.

Nobody cares.

Well, I care.

I spent a good part of my drive yesterday in tears, passing roo after roo after roo. I couldn't turn off the thoughts I had of their final moments - or hours. In shock, cold, hurting - how long did they have to wait for Death to end their pain? How many more cars and trucks and bikes sped past their dying selves, oblivious as they bled out or died in agony? Did they have a mate or a family feeling their absence but not understanding it?

Look, I know that roos have zero road sense. They're not very bright. They're sort of like enormous, muscular jumping sheep. But still...they are beautiful, graceful, wonderful living creatures with their own mob, their family. No policeman will ever knock at their doors to explain why they haven't come home. No ceremonies will be held to mourn their passing. There's just a sort of blank and uncomprehending void.

I could say 'well, that's Nature, it's how it works, it's only humans who get hung up on that sort of shit' except for this - it's us humans who are CAUSING this unbelievable amount of suffering and death. And we do it without a second thought. Mostly.

Several years ago I was on that Cooma-Canberra highway and I passed the corpse of a very large kangaroo. Its enormous hind legs, stiffened in rigor mortis, were sticking up in the air, and over the frame they created was draped a checked blanket.

I cried and cried. To me, that checked blanket meant that somebody had noticed. Somebody had cared. Somebody had tried to make that poor dying roo's passing more comfortable somehow. It was naive, but it was beautiful in such an incredibly sad way.

Had the blanket-owner been the killer or a compassionate passer-by? Had they been unable to put the roo out of its dying misery/pain*, and only been able to offer it warmth as its life ebbed away?

On my drive yesterday I came to the Imlay Road at "Rooicide" time. Late afternoon with the light about to start failing. After losing count of the numbers of roo corpses earlier in the day I was driving with a heightened awareness of roadside critters, especially at that late-afternoon time.

I noticed eight little wallabies, three kangaroos, a wedge-tailed eagle and two lyrebirds as I drove that road. None jumped in front of me, but I was very aware of them, and made sure I slowed down as soon as I was aware of them.

Drivers - please, PLEASE be careful - and remember that you and your cars aren't the only beings out there.

* What DO you do if you hit a wild animal? You don't want it to suffer. We tend not to carry guns in Australia - so - what is the humane way to end its suffering? This is something everybody needs to know!!!!! I've googled it and googled it and live in fear of being in this situation!

Flying High with Fluffy the Comfort Cat

Australia's flag-carrier, Qantas, is currently caught between a rock (aviation legislation) and a hard place (anti-discrimination legislation).

The problem is the lack of an adequate definition, in the Disability Discrimination Act, of what can be classed as an 'assistance animal'. Guidelines for guide dogs are quite clear, but it seems there is a bit of legislative leeway for hamster/gerbil/python/sheep fans to state a case for taking their own particular pet on board. And that's what Qantas is a bit worried about.

Here's the story. Apparently there's been a huge increase in the number of people who need to have a 'comfort animal' with them, to get them through the horrors of a flight. Qantas is worried that if someone says that Hortense the Chook is their assistance animal, and Qantas refuses to let Hortense board, then Hortense's owner could sue Qantas for discrimination under the Disability Discrimination Act.

Aviation legislation, on the other hand, is quite clear about carrying assistance animals onto a plane. Hortense the Chook probably wouldn't make the grade, but you can see Qantas' problem, right?

I'm finding it all quite amusing. Can't you just imagine the Brave New World in which animals and aeroplanes fly united? Planes would need to separate canine & feline passengers in much the same way that smokers and non-smokers used to be segregated. Pax with rodents might feel a little nervous, and would have to avoid the depressive with the python in seat 28B. The twitching fellow with the potbelly pig could sit wherever he wanted, but preferably nowhere near the galley or any Jewish or Muslim passengers, and all fish would have to be carried in an approved container, in less than 100mls of water, to satisfy LAGs (liquids, aerosols and gels) regulations. Don't want any terrorist types smuggling liquid explosives on board, cunningly disguised as the home of Bubbles the goldfish!

And another thing. With an on-board menagerie, would airlines need to provide comfort stations for animal companions? Aeroplane toilets aren't the most spacious places as it is, and there's really nowhere to put a litter tray. In any case, what might happen to the contents of a litter tray if the plane hit turbulence just doesn't bear thinking about! Maybe airlines could slip a couple of pet poo-bags into the seat pockets along with the sick-bag and the emergency instructions?

As for those human passengers who might be perfectly ok with flying, but who suffer from allergies to pet hair – would they have a case against airlines if sitting next to Fluffy the Persian cat had them wheezing and sneezing their way from Paris to Perth? Likewise, the doggyphobic traveller who finds him or herself shut inside a flying sardine can full of assistance dogs...

My anxiety and I will be boarding a plane in a few weeks, with my friend Thelma the Hat Lady. We will not be asking Qantas if we can take Oscar Bin Laden (my cat) on board. Oscar hates travelling anyway.