Animal Snacks

Before embarking on a ride, I went to the store for a snack or two to bring with me.

This is not the reason why I don't eat meat during a ride

though I suppose it could be.

What if it could recognize its own reflection? 

Everything In Australia Is Trying To Kill You!

When I was delivering newspapers on my Schwinn Continental many years ago, dogs chased me.   Deer crossed my path as I rode in the Bronx(!) as well as on rural descents in New Jersey and Vermont.  On another descent--in Switzerland--an Alpine ibex darted across my the road in front of me just after I flatted at about 90 KPH on a bike with loaded panniers.  A few years later, I had a close encounter with a mountain goat while pedaling--again, with loaded panniers--in the French Pyrenees.  

This summer, while cycling in Cambodia, I became wary of the monkeys after seeing one set on a tourist for her food and a pack of them attacking a dog.

And I've had cats, racoons, and other lil' critters come close to entangling themselves in my spokes.  I must say, though, that I've never had an encounter with an animal quite like the one a cyclist in Australia experienced:

Imagine being swatted on your helmet by--a magpie!  I won't accuse the filmer of paranoia when he exlaims, "Everything in Australia is trying to kill you!"

Why Did The Fill-In-The-Blank Cross The Road--In My Path?

I’m still thinking about the cat that smacked into my front wheel and caused me to crash.  The bike and I are OK, but I wonder what happened to him/her.

Other cats have crossed my path as I’ve pedaled.  One or both of us get out of the other’s or each other’s way.  At least, that’s how it worked until that unfortunate feline

Dogs are different.  I’ve been chased by a few; others jumped and tugged their leashes.  Some have walked up to me when I’ve stopped, and I rescued one that was wandering around in the middle of an intersection not far from where I worked.  I carried her in one hand while I steered with the other.  She stayed remarkably calm as I pedaled through traffic.  If I didn’t already have two cats—for whom I had to plead with my landlady for permission to move them with me into the house in which I was living—and had a bigger living space, I might have kept that cute little Yorkie—at least, I think that’s what she was.

As for other animals, I think most can be placed in one of two categories:  the ones who do whatever they can to get out of our way and the ones that barrel ahead in a straight line, completely oblivious to any cyclist who might collide with them.

Deer are in that latter category.  Several have bounded across my path; a riding buddy and I came within a tire width (or so it seemed) of splattering ourselves against the side of one that darted across the road at the bottom of a steep hill we descended.  In Bucks County (PA), no less.  You can’t make this stuff up.

I’ve seen moose, ibexes and mountain goats act in the same way:  straight ahead, with blinders on, across the road.  I wonder whether all ungulates behave that way.

Animals that avoid you include cats (most of the time), squirrels, chipmunks, lizards, armadillos and, believe it or not, snakes.  At least, the three snakes that I can recall crossing the path I was riding slithered away. 

Every one of those animals I’ve mentioned has entered upon “my” (Talk about a sense of entitlement!) riding space as I approached. 

In Florida, I’ve ridden paths and roads that rimmed or transversed swamps.  I’ve seen alligators, but none came near the road or path.  Do they avoid those things altogether, or was I just lucky?

Why did the alligator cross the road?  Well, actually, this one didn’t cross:  It was just standing there, on a street in DUMBO as I rode by.  I can’t help but to wonder:  Did it somehow just end up on the street in that position, or did someone leave it there?  

Creatures Along The Way

When you ride off-road—or even on roads or paths that cut through flora and fauna—you are bound to encounter creatures great and small.

Here in New York, if you ride through or near a park—or any place with more than a couple of trees—you’ll see squirrels.  Most of them will simply avoid you.  The same is true of chipmunks.  In fact, most creatures you might encounter in or around this city really don’t want to go anywhere near you.  They include the deer that have darted or loped across my path just on the other side of the George Washington Bridge and in the leafy parts of Westchester County.

In fact, most of the animals that venture near you are sick or otherwise impaired, or dying.  That includes the large rat that went “thwop” against the side of my Deep-V rim when I sliced through late-summer haze along the flat stretch on the east side of Prospect Park.  At that time—around 2001—there’d been a number of construction projects near that side of the park and, as someone explained to me, the excavations opened up various Pandora’s boxes.

Far more charming—and healthier—were the oak bark-colored mountain goats that seemed to line up along the side of the road up the Col du Portillon/ Coll de Portillo on the border between France and Spain.  I half-expected them to chuckle:  After all, they climbed that mountain every day.  And they didn’t have a 36X28 gear!

Handsome creatures they were. But for sheer cuteness, none beat the tiny green lizards that darted across my path during my last ride of my most recent trip to Florida.  You see them any warm day.  I’ve tried photographing them but they’re too quick.  That’s also the reason why I’ve never run any over.

I also saw a few armadillos.  However, they didn't try to come anywhere near me.  

Of course, anyone in any kind of vehicle—whether powered by one’s own feet or an internal combustion engine—runs the risk or has the opportunity to see, meet, dodge or bump into creatures of one kind or another.  It also doesn’t matter whether those vehicles are on land, in the air or on the water:

I actually came within a couple of feet of a manatee once.  I was swimming in Matanzas Inlet (which, to tell you the truth, I probably wasn’t supposed to do) on one of my first trips to the Sunshine State.   The creature, which looks something like a walrus without the mustache or the public relations, gave me a shy, quizzical look.  I liked it in the same way I like wrinkly dogs and shaggy cats. I assume other people feel the same way.

I wonder how it would have reacted to me if I’d been on my bike.