I've driven different highways in different terrain, from the mountains of British Columbia to the flatlands of the prairies.
In my travels, I have had deer, bears, foxes, cougars, skunks, racoons, snakes, birds and the occasional dog and cat cross in front of my vehicle. I've also stopped due to a herd of cattle blocking the highway in Alberta.
I have never seen what I encountered on the weekend just outside of the tiny village of Carievale. Of course, most residents of this area have probably encountered it a time or two.
This was foreign to me and my son.
At first, I wasn't sure of what I was looking at. It was dark and raining and it looked like there were leaves blowing across the highway.
A LOT of leaves.
I started to pay a little more attention to what was blowing across the road.
Then it hit me.
No, not an answer. I still wasn't sure.
My son reached into the front seat and slapped my arm.
"Those are FROGS," he said.
Instantly, I felt sick to my stomach. The kind of sick I felt when I accidentally poisoned 14 gold fish and had to scoop them out of the tank and flush them one by one down the toilet on an hourly basis.
How did I poison my fish? I used my cleaning bucket to change the water in the tank. They were swimming in a mixture of Lysol, Mr. Clean, water and bleach. A deadly concoction at best.
Knowing it was my fault they died was gut-wrenching. Just as driving over a thousand frogs, who are innocently trying to hop across the highway, twisted my stomach in knots.
Those poor little amphibians didn't even know what was going on. They were probably lifted and blown to the highway from their residence at a pond somewhere and they can't click their heels three times to get home.
"Kermit, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."
My son added to my nausea, stating, "I'm going to check your tires for frog legs when we get to grandpa's house."
Boys will be boys.
There were several deaths that night, which makes me wonder.... does the chicken ever get to the other side?
