For some, perhaps many of us, the idea of roadkill engenders a certain type of humor. There are multiple cookbooks on the subject,[1] for example, although most people would decline such fare based on the time it spent in the sun alone. Discussions of cooking and eating roadkill often involve flat shovels kept ready in the car trunk at all times. And, while the subject is often treated humorously, there are examples, such as that of Laurie Speakman, “The Moose Lady” of Alaska who works legally with the Alaska Moose Federation to “harvest” moose roadkill for distribution to a waiting list of groups including those that feed the hungry. About twenty states allow some collecting of accidental roadkill for food.[2] Roger M. Knutson’s book, Flattened Fauna: A Field Guide to Common Animals of Roads, Streets, and Highways reads much like a standard field guide, but it is hard to read it without imagining the author’s tongue placed firmly in cheek.[3]

Yet, the subject is deadly, pun intended, serious. 1.2 million wild ungulates —mostly deer but also elk and moose— were killed by vehicles in the United States in 2015.[4] While roadkill deaths are hard to quantify due to underreporting, especially if there was no property damage it is estimated that in 2014, 340 million birds fell victim to death by vehicle.[5]

As discussed, anthropogenically created edge is a symptom of habitat fragmentation. Another symptom of habitat fragmentation is barriers to dispersal. Barriers to dispersal need not be permanent, nor are they necessarily manmade. They can occur when an individual leaves its place of origin or breeding site, during transit, and in the process of settling into a new breeding site. Humans can also facilitate dispersal, though not always in an environmentally beneficial way, such as transporting seeds or insects on shipboard.[6] As a result contemporary ecological theory places a lot of emphasis on habitat connectivity and the creation of corridors. Barriers to dispersal are any barriers that prevent species from moving or expanding their territory. These are of concern on both the macro-level: individual or groups of members of a species, and the micro-level, such as the movement of a species’ genes.[7] The assumption of predictive modelling of responses to climate change is that most species will, in theory, move northward to cooler climates.[8]

The most obvious example of an anthropogenically created barrier to dispersal is a road. Hence, the attention paid here to roadkill. More roadkill occurs in spring and autumn, as these are the times of year that animals move from or to breeding sites, or in search of mates, and more roadkill occurs at dawn and dusk, as these are the times that animals are on the move, and human sight is limited.[9] There is, in fact serious science being done to evaluate the routes that various species traverse and then using that information to make those routes safer. Evidence suggests that animals will more readily adapt to changes in their route than humans will respond to signs and the like along theirs’.[10] One such researcher is wildlife ecologist and Assistant Professor at SUNY Plattsburgh Danielle Garneau .[11] Professor Garneau has created a mobile app called RoadkillGarneau via EpiCollect by which citizen science volunteers can submit photographs and data of their observations, allowing Professor Garneau access to a much greater body of data than she would have been able to gather on her own.

I have recently found myself in the street in front of the house, collecting photographic evidence as well. Directly in front of my property, the road crests after drivers either come up a hill from the west, or down and around a slight curve from the east. The species that most often falls victim at this slight blind spot is the gray squirrel. There is a lovely wooded patch across the street and I suspect they are travelling from there to the pond and back. I must confess that while driving, I am more interested than ever in the innocent victims of vehicular violence.