Death by the Passaic River

Seems like death lurks around me these days. The shooting of a wild turkey dubbed Henry riled up the residents of Rutherford, NJ. Henry and his wife roamed Rutherford along the banks of the Passaic. While Mrs. Henry is a decorously behaved wild turkey (because I know wild turkey etiquette...) Henry himself was a bit of a ruffian. He would sun himself on immaculate lawns and if you pulled out of your driveway, would give chase. While this proved amusing (I mean this guy clearly thought he could take on a 4 wheel drive Jeep Cherokee), it was a classic display of over-the-top male aggression. I wonder if wild turkey fowl are fueled by testosterone? In any case Henry had his admirers but also his enemies. One of whom shot him with a cross bow, so cave man hunter-style! The neighborhood was appalled and furious. As they should be, as a local celebrity fowl Henry pulled his weight. But more importantly, he was a creature living on the fringes of a dwindling forest eco-system, making due for his mate and baby gobbler offspring. His widow is seen walking around town, probably with junior in tow. Hope she makes it through the winter.

On the other side of the river animal hijinks pervade. The possum crop was tops this year, if only they mastered the art of crossing the street. The raccoons do much better with far fewer fatalities. But none fared worse than the squirrels. They must be playing truth or dare this summer, I've never seen so many squished. And right along the center dotted line. And what's up with the birds? Would someone explain how a goose gets hit on the highway? What's he doing on the highway so close to cars? Can't he fly any higher?

Then of course my own little hunter has a few more notches on his canine belt. Count among them a possum, a mouse, several cicadas (which he promptly ate, ewwww), but still no elusive squirrel.

Animal death always gets me weepy but this summer I feel it more keenly. Maybe because for the first time in my life I'm confronted with the very real possibility of my own mortality. Maybe because there's so much change in the air I mourn for the comfort of life of times past.