I had a really weird thing happen the other day while driving to pick up my son — I hit a goose.
In my 20 or so years of driving, I can tell you every single animal I’ve ever hit, because they all traumatized me.
I am an animal lover by heart and to know that I (no matter how accidentally) killed another creature, well, it just really bothers me.
A couple of years ago when I was still pregnant with my youngest son Sam, I was coming back from the library in Easley and I hit a cat.
I sobbed and sobbed for hours to the point where my husband was seriously concerned about my mental well being.
But I have to say, that was not the case with the goose.
I was making the turn off Brushy Creek Road up on to Sheffield when I noticed a flock of Canada geese to my right.
This isn’t all that unusual for the spot, it’s right before you pass Middlecreek and there’s a large pond out in front of the housing development.
I’ve seen geese there plenty of times and have even stopped before to point out the birds to my kids or take pictures.
But this time, it went very differently.
One of the geese — and I have no idea why — suddenly took off in flight. But instead of going up, he (I’m assuming it was a “he” but I honestly have no idea) shot out right in front of my Honda CRV.
And exploded into a puff of feathers.
It was that fast, there was no time to break or swerve. Here I was, happily singing along to Bruno Mars one second and the next I was committing a “murder most fowl.”
I pulled over to inspect the damage but except for the feathers and down coating the grill and front bumper of my car, there was no damage.
Oddly, there was no goose, either.
I looked under the car and I checked back on the side of the road but there was no sign of the suicidal bird. He had vanished — in that cloud of down.
The other geese were all still standing there, honking, and appeared completely unruffled at their comrade’s untimely demise. It hadn’t fazed them at all.
So … maybe he survived?
Eh, maybe … but I think highly unlikely. I know heard a very audible “thump” when we collided and judging by the amount of feathers left at the scene, if he was still around, he was naked. The bald goose.
As feathers continued to drift down and blow around in the breeze, I had a very bizarre reaction: I started laughing.
I know, I know. I’m a terrible person, but I just couldn’t help it. The absurdity of the situation combined with all the other geese just waddling around like nothing had happened simply struck a chord deep within my funny bone and I cracked up for a good five minutes solid — so much so that I had to sit down.
I’m sure it looked a little strange to passersby who saw a woman covered in feathers laughing hysterically on the side of the road.
I never did find the dead bird and there was no blood or anything either on my car or on the road so I guess maybe it’s possible he managed to survive after all.
So if you see a bald Canada goose out near Smithfield’s Country Club, tell him I said hi.
Kasie Strickland is a staff writer for The Sentinel-Progress and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Views expressed in this column are those of the writer only and do not necessarily represent the newspaper’s opinion.