Banjo vs. Bambi

I had a shocking experience Tuesday evening.

Dusk on Highway 30 West just north of the Highway 151/13 interchange.

The above scene looks beautiful, no?  A tranquil drive down the highway at dusk.  The start of a beautiful sunset as I am about to take the exit into the peaceful little town of Marion…  DEER!

Oh yes, my friends.  Just this week I hit my very first deer.  I am a 12-year Iowan who has so far managed to avoid any deer/car encounters.  (I view this as an accomplishment.)  I’ve had deer cross in front of me before but always with enough time that I could stop safely.  This one definitely popped my personal space bubble.

Here is the story:

The doe crossed the Eastbound lane of Highway 30 before it dashed out in front of my little blue Ford Escort and I heading west.  I saw the deer as it came up out of the ditch and I immediately entered rapid-thought-mode.  (I am continually amazed at how much the human brain can process in rather short amounts of time when necessary.)

My thought process went something like this: “That’s a deer. Dannit. (this is a substitute for “dangit” in my circle of friends.  A beloved friend of mine cannot pronounce the “g” in “-ing” or “-ang” words.  So we lovingly make fun of her.  Constantly.)  Yep. A deer.  And I’m gonna hit it.  Nothing to do but slow down, I guess.  Don’t swerve. (Mama taught me that. Swerving is usually how people die when they have close encounters of the deer kind.)  Well.  Here we go.  If the windshield breaks there’ll be glass everywhere so close your eyes.  Aaaaaaaaand NOW.”

The deer hit my left side.  I pulled over, turned the car off and the hazards on, and got shaky as I called my mother.  She didn’t answer, which was actually for the better because a car pulled up behind me to help.

That was so great.  Thank you, Tyler, the random guy who stopped.  Apparently the deer crossed in front of him on the other side and watched to see if I’d hit it.  Since I did, he turned around and came to make sure I was ok.  Kind strangers are wonderful.

After checking on me, he walked over to the deer.  It was still alive but definitely dying so he went back to his car and got a knife.  (He was not a hick, but definitely a back-woods type.)  He then slit the deer’s throat so it wouldn’t suffer so long.  I’m glad he was there because I would have had no idea what to do about a dying deer on the roadside.

Sorry if you're squeamish... this is Stranger Tyler in the act of slitting the deer's throat. I asked if he usually butchers the deer people hit and he said yes but this one was only about a year old. (If I hadn't butchered three deer at my job last year then this might have upset me more. I now find it rather interesting.)

After the deer was dead, Stranger Tyler gave me the number for the Linn County Sheriff’s office so I could call and report what happened.  The end result was a shaky Jenna, a dead deer, and a wounded vehicle.  However, I will admit that I am shocked that Banjo did so well (my family names our cars.  Alphabetically.)  I really expected there to be much more damage than there was.  Besides, the left side-mirror is not too much to be worried about considering that deer accidents can kill people.

I am incredibly thankful.

Banjo's missing mirror.
Please note the giant tuft of fur stuck where the mirror was. The most traumatic part of this whole experience was probably driving home with deer remains stuck to my car. How awkward is it to sit at stop lights like this? I was amused.

 

 

The Trap Battle Won!

In a previous post, I confessed to my readers that I have a habit of squirrel-watching.  The following story began developing only days after that post graced my homepage.

I woke one morning a couple of weeks ago with the usual spring in my step. (This is a joke.  I am not a morning person.)  I followed my normal routine: climbed down from my loft, freshened up a bit, started the kettle going for my tea, and walked over to my bedroom window to view the morning bustle at the birdfeeder.

My jaw dropped.

There was a trap underneath the feeder.  A squirrel trap.

I yawped, ran into the kitchen, grabbed my roommates, and drug them into my room to view the monstrosity.  They did their best to console me but the dirty truth remained… there was a squirrel trap underneath my favorite squirrel(bird)feeder.

This is when a plan developed.  It was just before April Fool’s Day and my roommate Andrea remembered a stuffed animal squirrel that was on sale at her place of employment.  Later that day, that very squirrel (complete with a cap, helmet and flight goggles) was sitting on our kitchen counter.   Our aim was to put the squirrel in the trap as an April Fool’s joke, however… we chickened out.  I don’t know the neighbor lady well and feared she would find our joke to be obnoxious or disrespectful.

So the squirrel was left on the Shelf of Glory for a time.  (Enter side story:  the Shelf of Glory is where my roommates and I collect all the random trinkets that amuse us.  Items included are either laughable, utterly random, or simply inspire the “what!?” reaction.  We can vote items off if it gets too full, but Black Santa will forever hold the position of honor in the center.)

The Shelf of Glory: including the snowboarding pig, the homeschool angel, Black Santa, the sesame crunch candy, Ian the Fisherman Lego, and a jackalope (among other such things)

On Tuesday, my mother stopped over to say hi.  She commented about the super-squirrel lingering on our TV and I told her of his intended purpose.  So my mother, with all her boldness, grabbed the squirrel and tromped on over to the side of the house to stuff him into the trap.  After she accomplished the daring feat, we ran back inside and began surveillance.  I still don’t know whether the neighbor was amused or not, but I sure was.

My dear mother and the work of her hands.

The stuffed squirrel stayed in the trap the rest of Tuesday and all of Wednesday.  On Thursday afternoon as I was putting away  my laundry, I stepped by my window only to jump back out of sight.  The neighbor lady had the trap in her hand and was digging the squirrel out.  I didn’t see the expression on her face, but she didn’t appear to be muttering obscene things as she worked so I’m hopeful that she enjoyed our joke.

But the victory lies here: I checked back later that afternoon when I deemed it safe to look, and the trap was gone!  Hooray!  I also note, with pride, that it has not returned.

The moral of this story is that practical jokes are generally undervalued as a way to get across an important message.  (I do not recommend over-applying this moral in your life.)

And now, I am ever so happy to say: enjoy your birdseed, squirrel-friends.

There and back again…

Today I am back at class after a wonderfully peaceful and productive spring break.  This year, I decided to intentionally ignore all my homework and responsibilities for the entire week, thereby forcing myself to actually relax.  It was a fantastic experience.  I did many things that I would never have otherwise had time to do.

My older brother took me out to the shooting range where I shot a rifle for the first time.  It was a 22 caliber rifle (which according to my understanding is pretty small), but the guys down the range let me shoot their Russian rifle.  It was much like a 30 ought 6 (which according to my understanding is pretty epic).  I finished reading The Silmarillion and made it all the way through The Hobbit (which actually is part of an epic).  I engaged in comparison shopping and bought a new camera (which allowed me to take a-pic… okay, I’m done).  I traveled to the University of Northern Iowa to visit a good friend away at college. I reorganized my closet.  And I bought a scrunchie (which I proceeded to wear in public.)  A well-rounded vacation, if I do say so myself.

The other noteworthy thing I did was to go on a morning adventure with my club mates.  I am involved in The Core, which is a student group hosted by my church.  Among other things, we have a weekly Bible study on both the Mount Mercy and Kirkwood campuses here in Cedar Rapids.  Each year, the Core hosts a spring break trip for each campus.

For Kirkwood’s spring break, the crew traveled to Decorah, Iowa where they spent five days helping our sister church, Lifehouse, with various projects.  They worked hard, came back exhausted, and did a lot to help Lifehouse accomplish some project goals.

For our Spring Break Trip, the Mount Mercy gang cleverly coordinated an adventure of much the same magnitude.

And by that I mean: we dressed up as breakfast foods and drove out to visit the Brandon Frying Pan in Brandon, Iowa.  It was a great journey.  Much like The Hobbit actually (minus mythical creatures, gold, battles, and the ring of power).

Here we are! Taking in the impressive Brandon Frying Pan.
(Photo by Andrea Bonifazi)

We call this one the band shot.
(Photo by Ben Kromminga)

For those who are a little less imaginative than we are, I have compiled a list explaining our attire:

Chris:  a slab of butter
Myself:  an egg, sunny side up
Ben:  a green egg with ham
Ann (Lauren):  an omelet
Lauren (Ann): pancakes
Sam:  bacon
Andrea:  sausage

Not such a bad little assortment, eh?

The Brandon Frying Pan is the largest frying pan in Iowa (not in the world, or even just in the U.S… but it sweeps the competition here in our fair state.  Feel free to be impressed.)  After taking far too many pictures of ourselves in the frying pan, we visited the local café for a rather local-café type lunch and then journeyed back to C.R.  A road trip for some lame sightseeing and back is never a bad thing when building friendships.  It was a good time.  I might even call it… epic.