Road food

So there I am, driving my own business down Chef this morning. Chef Menteur highway is a long lonely stretch of road, fading from urban decay to industrial rural decay in a span of about twelve miles. You could consider the path to be New Orleans East, but really, this used to be considered the coastal road, what Interstate 10 eventually replaced. As you wind away from the city, the soggy collapsed buildings fall away to broken stands of marsh trees and, in turn, my plant.

There are assorted species of wildlife along the way, in particular in the Bayou Savage wildlife refuge right by work. I exclude the exotic wildlife seen on the city portion because...well, just because. I would consider them an invasive species, but nothing you'll ever see on Mutual of Omaha. So, anyhow, I often spot alligators, raccoons, possums, foxes, snakes, nutria, and turtles squashed on the asphalt. The rains almost always bring them out of the woods. For the past week, we've had a lot of rain, so the killing season is upon us.

Today's drive brought a surprise. From a good eighth of a mile away, I spotted the carcass. Large, dark and lumpy. Even at that distance I knew precisely what I was about to see. A wild boar. Sure enough, I get right up on the beast, and it was a hog. Snout, whiskers, and puhlenty of ugly to be had. Now I would have gladly supplied a picture of said animal, but I've learned a valuable lesson since Katrina rolled through: don't stop to smell the dead. Eyeing El Piggy at sixty-five was enough for me. Besides that, the gators aren't afraid any more because of ignorant disaster workers teaching them to eat doughnuts. The highway, and the biped idiots that drive on it, now equals food to the gators. Penguin and gators don't mix. Unless it's the three-way gator appetizer at Mike Anderson's.

Fast-forward an hour or so and I've got to travel over to our new facility for some server work. Rounding the bend at the refuge, I see old porky again. From this side, it's quite obvious the angle he was nailed at. There was even one nasty leg about ten feet away from him. Quite evidently there was no walking from the scene of the accident for this poor animal. Something popped him and that was that. I'd hate to see the damage to the vehicle. Mostly likely it was a semi, now festooned with a crimson smear across the front fender.

Anyway, I spend some time out at the new site and travel back to the plant. As I'm approaching the parking lot, I realize that I missed the boar on this trip. Or did I? Was it not there? In my head, I'm suddenly thinking that perhaps someone, like a cleanup crew or highway patrol moved the hundred-plus pound animal off to the side of the road. My curiosity piqued, on my fourth trip of the morning, I looked for the pig again. Sure enough, he was gone. However, that nasty leg was still there. And his body was NOT on either side of the road.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

Someone went to the effort of moving this massive wild porker but didn't finish the cleanup. I honestly believe they're rationalizing it right now: "Well hell, we'll smoke the g'damn'd thang and dem bugs 'll just die right on in thare wit dat heat."

I've seen gators hit and the tails removed within hours of the kill. In a way I almost understand that one, as tail meat is REALLY expensive. I don't condone it, but I understand it. But a whole boar? I mean the whole damned thing? From the middle of the highway?

Seriously, my stomach is kind of queasy from thinking about it. I'm not eating pork for at least a day.