Fauna 1, Brian 1

You know, living in the country and driving down these old Farm Roads has really encouraged me to keep both hands on the wheel at all times.

So, the other day, I’m heading down Farm Road 182 towards Republic. I glance in my rear view mirror as I near the bridge over Wilson Creek and see a car pretty tight on me. I don’t like it, but as I skim the S curve surrounding the bridge, crossing the center line to straighten the curve slightly. Skimming the curve allows me to take the curve at a speed I won’t reveal since my wife reads this blog and trusts me to drive our children safely, and she would disagree whether that speed was safe. As I come down the large hill west of Wilson Creek, I see I have put distance between me and the car behind me. I’m pleased as I crest the next hill and head into the trough and then….

OH MY GOD, IT’S A FREAKING EMU RUNNING INTO THE ROAD! And not a regular emu, a freaking methed-up Carbondale emus. Running out of Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield as though General McCulloch himself we pursuing it. On a collision course with my truck speeding along.

I slam on the brakes. The bird, just off my front left headlight, dekes one step back toward the battlefield and takes flight. Now, the bird is eye level, windshield level, and I duck to the left as it barely clears the roof.

By this time, the truck is mostly stopped, and I mash onto the gas to avoid the turkey landing on the roof and to make sure that the cars behind me don’t rear end me. The turkey, which I recognized as a turkey belatedly given its actual height did not exceed the hood of the truck and that it freaking flew, survived. We survived.

I call it a draw.

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