About a month ago, my husband and I were headed to Mishawaka to go to a church service at Granger Community Church. Now, we normally attend Nappanee Missionary, but Granger is where we first started and we still occasionally attend. It was a big night, called First Wednesday, when the entire service was about worshiping God. Lots of singing, lots of artsy presentation. Well, this was going to be the Last First Wednesday; they are changing around the programming. I was sad, it has meant a lot to me the last few years.
So anyways, Ben and I were headed to Mishawaka, driving down CR 6/Cleveland road. We cross over the Elkhart/St Joe County line and are probably a quarter mile past when I see a turtle in the middle of the road. My natural inclination is to pull off the road and help the turtle out. I started to do that, but the first place I could get over was several hundred feet down the road. In case you don't know, Cleveland is a very busy road... and most of the road is 45-55 mph (I believe it is 50 in this section). I jump out of the car, muttering to Ben "I have to TRY to save his life!" and run down the road.
I am in a dress and sandles, running past about 15 cars on my way to the turtle (I believe he was a painted). I got more than a few looks, I'm sure. I can see most of the cars swerving to miss Mr Turtle and I get hopeful. I reach the spot where he is, but I have to wait for one last car to pass before I jump out to grab him. One. Last. Car. And then BLAM! that last car, in my mind, totally in slow motion, hits the turtle and blood flies everywhere. This was the crunch of full on tire impact, not a glancing blow. The sound echoed around in my head for a few seconds while I turn back to my car and sob all the way back.
I was too late. My brain whispers "you distracted the driver. He was looking at you and didn't see the turtle. The turtle could have made it across the road." A few minutes later rationality works in. NO, it is not my fault. I tried to save him. Most people ignore these things, thinking "it doesn't matter", "it's just a stupid turtle," or just plain not thinking. The driver probably wasn't paying attention. In reality, I'm lucky I wasn't hit, as close to the road as I was.
The turtle haunted me for next few weeks. I still feel sad every time I pass that spot. But you know what? God came to me that night in that church and comforted me. In some ways, He gave me strength to face my next Highway to Heaven tragedy.
This past weekend, I was headed home from Indianapolis where I went to a friend's wedding and visited with some other friends. It was Ben and our friends Brent and Cara in the car. We were talking - Cara was sharing a rather graphic story about how a coworker once sliced his hand at work and blood was everywhere. Blood makes me queezy, even talking about it, definitely couldn't be a doctor. Well, I take a deep breath and try to distract myself from the idea of blood all over the floor.
My eye catches a Red-tailed Hawk as it lands in the grass next to the road about a quarter of a mile up the road. Most people wouldn't have seen it, but I have an eye for such things. I motion to Ben and my fellow car riders, who all look at it too. We all watch, spell bound, as the hawk takes off. His apparent destination was the electric pole he was undoubtedly perched on before he went after whatever critter that drew him to the side of the road. Here's the catch: the pole was on the other side of this 55 mph highway.
I think we all caught our breaths. I know I did - even letting out a useless 'nooooooo!' as the hawk took off, gaining altitude. Apparently, "look both ways before you cross the street" isn't a lesson learned in Hawk School, for just at that moment there was a semi truck between the hawk and its beloved pole...
The Red-tail disappeared from view for a split second, then emerged off the top of the truck, spiraling down to the road below. The whole time this is happening, the world narrows to just this Red-tailed Hawk. I honestly was NOT driving for a minute or so. I know I hit the breaks and was pulling off the road. Looking over, I see the hawk that is literally smashed and broken and my heart breaks. I immediately rule out any possibility of rehabilitation. If there had been ANY doubt in my mind that he wasn't dead, I would have tried everything to help him.
Down trodden, I continue driving home but I can't talk. Its taking everything I can not to throw up (remember, I was nauseous before all this started). Later on the drive, I get into the lane next to the semi, whom I had been behind for several miles. There is some grim satisfaction to see a huge bullseye of broken glass across the drivers window. There was some debate in the car as to whether the driver even saw the hawk. I know he did now. Whether he felt any remorse or any concern for his own safety, I do not know.
Once again, I am reminded about how easily my witnessing another's death could have tied to my own. It is amazing that the driver didn't lose control of the wheel and cause some sort of accident. In my stunned state, I know my reflexes would have been slowed. My mind turns to God and I'm both sadden at a loss of His creation, yet in wonder of the fragility of life. I kid you not, I am thinking this one second and the next a teenager starts to pull out in front of me. My senses had been on high alert since the hawk. I had watched this car approach a T intersection, barely slowing down. Almost as a delayed thought, the young man decides to look in my direction, only he is going to fast to slow down before the stop sign and stops halfway out in the lane I am in. Had I not swerved into the other lane, I for surely would have T-boned him going about 45 mph. Not pretty for him, seeing as it was on the driver's side. Fortunately, no one was coming the other way and I was able to avoid this collision.
I believe that God wanted me to learn a lesson through all of this. Actually several lessons. The cost of our so called "better" life of quick transportation is often more broad than we realize. How many animals are killed every year for our sake? Sure, non-motorized transportation kills some, but not nearly the scale as our fast cars, trains, and automobiles. Actually, this is part of the reason why the Amish have declined this technology. Am I going to join them? I doubt it. But it has caused me to pause and realize the cost.
If you have any thoughts about how I could help honor these animals, I would love to hear them. My heart goes out to them, and all the others killed every single moment in this country by a vehicle.
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| Typical sighting of a Red-tailed Hawk. This one seen soaring over the Wellfield Gardens during EnviroFest in July. They are arguably this most common hawk seen. They soar high on thermals, their red tails giving them away. They are also spotted by the trained eye perched on many telephone posts and the like on highways. If I am looking, I can usually see one every 2-5 miles of highway on any given day. |
