The Really Wild Show

One of the greatest things about my job - apart from the tiny motorbike, flashy cars and the occasional disproportionately generous tip - is that during my many nighttime jaunts in the sprawling Sussex countryside, I get to see wildlife.... Shitloads of it.

I'm not just talking about the occasional glimpse of a fox or fleeting glance of a squirrel. I'm talking about animals that you know exist, but you've only really ever seen on tv being fondled by Terry Nutkins (may he rest in peace).

Take last night for example. There I was riding down a private little country lane at 1 o'clock in the morning, minding my own business, when SMACK! A badger with a death wish pelted out of the hedgerow and head-butted the side of my bike. I made a noise that I can only liken to a small girl suddenly, and unexpectedly having ice cubes poured down her back. As for the badger, well it disappeared pretty quick back from whence it came. I reckon it got off pretty lightly with a sore noggin and something to tell the grandchildren.

Distressing as this was for all parties involved, it doesn't come close to the distress I endured a couple of weeks ago on the way back from another job.

I'm no stranger to occasionally seeing animals hit and killed by vehicles - goes with the territory of the job unfortunately - although I've only ever been in one vehicle that's been involved in such a collision.

Maybe you have too? Maybe you've witnessed an unfortunate moggy meet it's maker under the wheels of your Nissan Primera? Maybe you've caught the demise of a pheasant as it bounces with ill grace off the bumper of your Toyota Corolla? Perhaps you have brought about the termination of bountiful bunnies in your Landrover Discovery? Well, you ain't seen nothing until you're in a transit van that's just hit a full grown deer at 40mph. Such is my only ever experience of direct roadkill. It was a long time ago.... I don't like talking about it.

But let's get back to what happened a couple of weeks ago....

So there I am once again, riding back home from a job over Ditchling Beacon (one of Sussex's finest viewing points) on a beautiful clear night - another fabulous thing about working so late in the countryside is that there is seldom any light pollution, and I rate a clear starry night high on my list of all time favourite things, sandwiched in between sand and sandwiches - when all of a sudden the car in front of me shudders, swerves, and completely fails to avoid the rabbit that has just leaped out in front of it. Normally, I wouldn't have stopped, were it not for seeing the poor little fucker's front legs still trying to do something about the fact that it's back legs were no longer three dimensional. They had length, breadth, but no depth. I turned round, rode over to the mess of legs and fur and weighed my options.

I needed to kill this thing quick, so I wanted to make sure that whatever I did, it stood no chance of surviving. I thought about putting it back in the road and taking a run up with the bike, but I figured that I couldn't guarantee it's death, and I'd probably be poking bits of rabbit out of my mud guard forever more.

Maybe a severe blow to the head then? Maybe not. Rabbit heads are pretty tough, and although I did have steel toecap boots on, again I could not guarantee it's demise, and I really didn't want to go searching a nearby hedgerow to see if the rabbit I just booted into it was dead or not.
Stamp on it? Too gory!
Grab it's back legs and smash it's head on the floor? See stamp on it.

In the end I crouched down and gingerly gathered it up in my hands - it didn't even protest - lay it out flat on my lap with its head facing away from me and Karate chopped the back of its neck as hard as I could. That did the trick, instantly.

Unpleasant, but utterly necessary. In retrospect, I'm perversely proud of my actions - even the bit where I launched it into a nearby field to get it as far away from the road as possible, thus avoiding any harm that could potentially befall any would-be scavenger if the carcass had remained by the roadside. True, I didn't necessarily have to drop-kick it, but my throwing arm is dreadful.

However, these horrific scenarios are exceptions to the norm. I am more often than not but a mere observer to the comings and goings of the nocturnal wildlife community. Hedgehogs, rabbits, badgers, foxes, deer, bats, rats and mice are but a few of my woodland friends that happily hop, scuttle, waddle, flap, slink and prance around me as I go about my nightly business. It's brilliant!

I've just recently seen an owl for the first time.

I saw it whilst riding down the moonlit high street of one of Sussex's many impossibly quaint villages, and there it was, sat atop a sign that advertised that this particular impossibly quaint Sussex village welcomed careful drivers. It was facing away from me, but it's head turned to observe me as i approached in that way that only owls and people possessed by Satan can do. I passed it, turned round and slowly inched back towards the sign. Me and the owl regarded each other for a while.

Then, without warning it stretched its massive wings and took off towards me. I shat myself! However, it merely sailed over my head and disappeared into the night. It was an amazing thing to see (the owl that is, not me shitting myself).

Anyway, I'm off out again later and the weather looks good. I wonder what the Sussex countryside has in store for me tonight?