In June 2025, I was on my way for a sunrise paddle. Arriving at the launch, just off a major highway, I discovered a beaver that had been hit by a car. I have to admit, it was a gruesome sight, and I felt upset for the beaver who had lost his life. As I sat in my car, feeling my emotions, a fox emerged from the dense vegetation along the road. I watched as the fox ventured onto the highway to help itself to an easy meal. Realizing the fox was also likely to be struck and killed by a passing vehicle, I knew I had to do something.

 

I decided to move the beaver off the highway so the fox or other scavengers wouldn’t meet the same fate. I didn’t want to touch the beaver with my bare hands, so I considered my options. Using my paddle was the only solution I found.

Traffic was light as it was an early weekday morning. I deemed it safe to enter the middle of the highway with my paddle and attempt to move the beaver. An adult beaver can weigh 35-50 pounds, and this large one easily fell within that range. Hoping to balance it with my paddle, I exited my vehicle.

 

Before starting, I checked for cars and, reassured by the empty road, took a moment to pick up my camera from the passenger seat and snap a few images of the fox. Afterward, I opened the hatch and grabbed my paddle, wondering if my Werner Camano composite paddle would be up to the unusual challenge ahead.

After checking for traffic, I walked to the highway’s center. The skittish fox moved to the shoulder but watched me closely. As I lifted the beaver onto my paddle, the fox ran up and eyed me, as if to ask, “Where are you going with my breakfast?” The beaver was heavy, but surprisingly, I balanced it. The smell was indescribable.

 

With the beaver balanced on my paddle, I crossed to the far side of the highway. The fox stayed right beside me. In fact, he was better at heeling than most dogs I know. Stepping over the guardrail, I brought the beaver into a gravelly clearing, far from the road, for the fox and other scavengers to enjoy. Some entrails remained on the road. To finish my deed, I needed to move these too.

I scooped what I could with my paddle, and as I did, the fox reappeared at my heels. The fox grabbed about three feet of what I think was intestine and pranced across the highway, shaking it in its mouth like a dog with a rope toy. Despite how gross it was, it was kind of comical as the fox looked quite proud.

With the beaver clear of the highway and the fox left to his meal, it was time to unload my pack boat and begin my paddle. As I crossed the lake, I heard the haunting call of a common loon. A great blue heron foraged along the shoreline, and at the far end of the lake, I saw a cow moose.  

 

The day began unexpectedly, and the initial sight left me unsettled. Still, knowing I likely saved the fox and later seeing more wildlife made it a good day.

I now carry disposable gloves and garbage bags in my car. If I come across roadkill again without my paddle, I can move it and dispose of the gloves at the next garbage bin.  

 

These images and story are more graphic than usual for me, but I wanted to share this message in hopes of preventing more unnecessary roadkill.  

 

Good birding,
Paul