Road Kill

Something about the desert prompts animals to run across the road... a lot.  I have to wonder what is so fascinating on the other side that drives them to this risky behavior that results in one million vertebrates run over on the roads every day in the United States (yes -- I wonder too who counted them all and how they came up with this statistic, but I digress).   A large percentage of these poor critters must lie victim along desert roadways:

Today, my soft heart and I endeavored to avoid contributing to this statistic.  As we travelled along long, lonely, gasoline-free stretches of U.S. Highway 93 today, I tried my best to keep from running over one of the many critters sticking its nose out from the sagebrush to gaze at the passing minivan:

Alas, hundreds of miles passed and no strange sounds emerged from the underside of the vehicle.   No abrupt spray of red splashed along our mint green paint job.  No sickening crush of bones could be heard from the Michelin man below.  But, as I began to relax, paying less attention to the shoulder and margins of the highway and more attention to simply staying awake, the unthinkable happened....

Drum roll please....
Tragic music begins....

Thwomp went the right front bumper, and in a single moment, my no-kill day became a road-kill day:

R.I.P.  my tumbleweed friend.
Rest in Pieces.