I never really thought hard about what happens to dead squirrels on the streets of my neighborhood. I thought they sort of just dissolve into the pavement, I guess, or the squirrel police come out every so often and collect them.
Yesterday I found out.
Driving home from work, I hit the brakes. Wildlife sighting!
I am a girl who puts her flashers on and backs up if no one is behind her just to look at deer in other people's lawns. There's something more fascinating about wildlife in suburbia than there is about wildlife in the wild.
I stopped just in time to convince the turkey buzzard (or something) my car wasn't a threat, and watched as he hopped over to the squished squirrel that was also in my view, picked up the limp, floppy thing in its beak, and scuttled back to the bushes on the side of the road.
Presumably to help out the human race by removing dead squirrels from the road.
This happens all the time in nature, but had I ever seen it?
No.
I felt blessed to be the chosen one, the one chosen to witness this segment of the circle of life.
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