Barefoot Vegan Mag Jan_Feb 2017

P
utting our compassion into action is what makes
us vegan. When confronted with animal
suffering, we have each chosen to do something
rather than remain complicit. But what do we
make of those instances when the there is no
clear actionable response?
The routine deaths of animals that have been hit by
cars, commonly known as “roadkill,” is an issue that has
been especially challenging for me since becoming vegan.
Though I see body after body on the roadside, there is no
company to hold accountable, no rescue to donate or
volunteer with. And unless we are able to abstain from
driving cars, there is no boycott that will lessen the death
toll.
Every day, roughly one million animals are killed by
vehicles in the United States alone (1). Bodies of large
mammals like deer are usually moved from traffic lanes by
state transportation authorities, but they remain visible on
shoulders and ditches as they decompose. The majority of
animals we routinely kill with our cars, however, are
smaller mammals, birds, reptiles, and amphibians whose
bodies stay on roadways to be driven over and over to
disintegration.
With nearly four hundred million animals killed by cars
annually, “roadkill” is the second largest cause of animal
death in the United States, behind animals killed for flesh
(2) .
Despite these figures, road-killed animals are rarely
afforded human compassion. There are several factors that
contribute to their exclusion from the moral community, as
well as several compelling responses to encountering
“roadkill” that could help to change this fact.
In my chapter for the recent academic anthology,
Mourning Animals, edited by Margo DeMello, I suggest
that demonstrating compassion for road-killed animals
is a productive entry point for people to engage greater
respect for all animals (3). Because vegans already
include all beings in our circle of compassion, we are
primed to become advocates for our local wildlife on
this widespread issue.
Road-killed animals, of course, do not spontaneously
appear in travel lanes as disfigured corpses. There are
identifiable and, often, preventable factors that put
animals at risk of being killed on the road. Road
ecologists have studied what brings certain animals to
the roadside and have long been working toward
preventative measures (4).
Wildlife crossings like vegetation-covered bridge
overpasses and tunnel- and gully-like underpasses have
been proven effective in rerouting the migration
behavior of many commonly road-killed species (5).
These measures, however, are far from commonplace.
Despite the efficacy of these mitigation efforts,
“roadkill” is generally regarded as regrettable but
inevitable. We might express a moment’s despair when
passing evidence of a particularly gruesome collision, or
allow ourselves brief grief over the death of certain
species more than others.
It is hard not to notice the body of a dog or cat on
the side of the road, for example, but it is easy enough
for many to roll past a squirrel or opossum without a
second glance. As wild species, road-killed animals lack
the strong ties to a human community that companion
animals—even those hit by cars—can claim.
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