Pheasant run

So, last week as I drove home a pheasant decided to commit suicide via my car. He waited until there was no hope of escape, and then flew directly into my grill.

There was an explosion. And I don't just mean feathers. I had blood spatter on my windshield - not ok.

So, he flops up on my hood, then settles back down on the front of my car. I wonder why he hasn't fallen off yet, but chalk it up to the fact that maybe because I was going about 70 (I didn't even try to slow down - it would have been pointless) he was stuck on. So I swerve back and forth. He flops back and forth. Still stays there.

I don't worry about it too much - I'm only about a mile from my parents' house, I figure he'll fall off when I stop.

I pull up to the garage, and slam on brakes, again thinking that a hard stop will shake Mr. Pheasant off my car. Nope.

So, I get out of my car to inspect the damage. Now three cats and a dog flock to the front of my vehicle to inspect the roadkill. I think, "hey, maybe my dog will yank it off there so I don't have to touch it." So I go inside.

I come back out about 10 minutes later - Mr. Pheasant still hanging from my grill. I sigh and realize that he's not coming off without a little help. (note: I was talking to my mom on the phone at this point).

I grab the bird and try to pull him off. No give. This is when I start to get a little concerned. I pull harder. Nothing. Keep in mind that this bird's insides have been almost completely destroyed. It was kind of gross.

So I have this conversation with my mother:

"Mom - this pheasant is really stuck in there!"

mom: "Well, get a knife and cut his head off."

me: "It's not his head that's stuck!"

mom: "Well, then cut his leg off!"

me: "I don't want to cut anything off!"

Yeah, his leg was shoved almost all the way up into the grill. I don't know how. I don't know why. But I can't say it really surprised me all that much. After a few minutes of fruitless effort, I start picturing myself driving 15 hours to Ohio with a dead pheasant flopping around on my hood. Classy.

Luckily, I was finally able to get him out, and as I do, my dad goes "hey, pluck it and take some feathers to your friends in Ohio."

Because that's what every girl wants as a gift at her bridal shower - feathers from the pheasant you mutilated on the drive out.

So, I was able to drive to Ohio pheasant-free, but my car still looked like I'd been part of a hit-and-run. Awesome start to a weekend!