I do not mean to stare or be disrespectful but I am now at the stage of going well out of my reasonable route from the office to home just to get another look at the dead badger on the verge just near the Humber Bridge slip road.
It is not that I am morbid or creepy.
It is just that such a creature, rarely seen nowadays apart from by those out and about at unnatural hours, in waxed coat, combats, green welly boots and ski mask, still retains some aura and majesty even in an undignified heap, bottom out to the road and head buried in it's front paws as though it was resigned to the impact following what must have been blind panic in the glare of a pair or more of vehicle headlights.
I first noticed the corpse a couple of days ago. It pays to keep an eye out on the margins of the highway when driving along because that narrow strip is often the repository of bits that have fallen off lorries, shredded re-treaded tyres, deep holes and more recently I have learned it is also a popular resting place for builder's consumables.
Take exhibit number 1.
My rear inside tyre, a nice, hardly worn premium price Goodyear but punctured relentlessly by one flat head nail and a collection of galvanised tacks. No doubt the consequence of a contractors flat bed or pick-up truck cutting someone up in the race for the slip road and the violent movement of the swerve and braking dislodging the loosely stowed items and jettisoning them up and out onto the carriageway.
The verge is pretty grubby and mucky anyway and although we may curse those coned off inside lanes, invariably at weekends, this is the vital period for recovery of the accumulated hazards, such as McDonalds Drive-Thru wrappers, cigarette butts, bottles, cans, soiled nappies, packaging and of course the road killed wildlife.
The badger will have simply ambled out of the relative safety of its expansive underground home, amongst the greenspace which occupies a sizeable area in the middle of the clover leaf junction, in search of food.
There must be acre upon acre of such green space arranged in geometric shape parcels throughout the UK road network. If you too have a favourite convergence of roads just visualise the pattern and you will see that indeed I am right in my assumption.
It is rarely trespassed upon by humans because we are too busy hurtling along at 70mph or if we are unfortunate to puncture or break down we do not like to venture too far into that wilderness. The bravest souls amongst us may find it necessary to crest the slope for a secret wee-wee or number two on occasion. Otherwise it is a case of just enough of a clamber up the embankment to be a safe distance from the hard shoulder and that's it.
I have often negotiated a large roundabout or traffic island which is densely planted with the thought that a shelter, bivouac or even a small shed in the midst of that greenery would be quite a good refuge although ear plugs and a fine gauze mask would be an essential part of any attire.
I do keep half an eye out for any tell tale trails of smoke in the tops of the trees on the biggest interchanges in case someone has stolen my idea. It would take quite a desperate person really to resort to such a lifestyle change but who knows, if land becomes short in supply and pricey we may soon be looking to buy up bits under and around Spaghetti Junction or at the intertwining of other main motorway and trunk road routes.
There is a relatively new complex of slip roads and flyovers about 2 miles west of the Humber Bridge badger culling site and in the early mornings, on the way to a car boot sale, I have seen a multitude of wildlife from deer to foxes, stoats and weasels, rats and other creatures too small and swift to accurately identify or even focus on for more than a second. Blink and they're gone like a ferret up a drainpipe jean leg.
The junction is built into a south facing slope and would in any other setting represent a prime piece of building land. My dreams of one day constructing a partially underground house would eminently suit just that type of location, orientation and layout of contours. The wildlife have known this for centuries or millenium of course. Ironically and cruelly, each time one of the natural residents is killed in the process of leaving and re-entering that paradise my own dream comes closer to actuality. Does that sound a bit mad? Just move on......
Within the space of a week I had to weave around the prone carcasses of two roe deer on another nearby main road. They were freshly killed as evidenced by an anxious motorist on their mobile trying to get a recovery vehicle to attend and remove a badly battered front end and wing of their car. The contents of the radiator were still spilling out under the damaged bodywork as much as the lifeblood was ebbing away from Bambi.
Other motorists could be seen calculating what their reactions would have been if they had been but a split second earlier on the off-ramp or had been tempted to overtake the now battered hatchback within the green and white chevron countdown boards. A small number of motorists, alternative thinkers, may have been using their smartphones to source information on how, with whom and where to arrange for half a ton of venison to be prepared for the freezer.
The badger, in its innocence and trusting that its bulk would be ample warning to be avoided by attentive drivers, will not have stood much of a chance as it attempted to cross the road. I wonder if it had the forethought to have left the equivalent of a final Will and Testament as the former owner occupier of a choice piece of real-estate.
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