Seven Animals, Five Hours, 20 Miles

by Meghan Grabow

This past Tuesday morning, as I turned onto Highway 133 toward Carbondale, a young buck darted in and out of traffic on the west side of the road. I cringed, knowing it was almost inevitable that he would end up in a collision with one of the many vehicles streaming into town. Twenty minutes later, driving toward Aspen, I passed a dead elk calf and a deer just past Aspen Village. A blue SUV with a crushed front end sat abandoned a few hundred feet away. It was obvious the calf had been hit that morning—its injuries were fresh and particularly gruesome.

Forty-five minutes later, on my way back to Carbondale, a large buck crossed the road just before Red Hill and was struck by a white SUV that kept driving. The impact launched the buck into the air, spinning several times before he landed in the right lane. Still alive but with his hind end paralyzed, he tried desperately to drag himself out of traffic as cars narrowly avoided hitting him again on the blind curve. I immediately called the Garfield County Sheriff’s Office to request an urgent response, both to prevent a pileup and to relieve the buck of the pain and fear he was experiencing.

Thirty minutes later, during my second trip upvalley, the elk calf and deer just past Aspen Village had been removed. In their place, three large elk lay dead—killed in the hour and a half since I had watched the Red Hill buck fight to survive. Seven animals in less than five hours on a 20-mile stretch of road.

Beyond the brutal and unnecessary suffering inflicted on wildlife, these collisions take a significant human toll. How many people lose income because their only transportation is suddenly out of commission? How many families already living paycheck to paycheck are pushed further into financial hardship by repair costs or medical bills—many of them the same workers who travel long distances to Aspen each day for hourly-wage jobs?

This morning, as I drove from my office in Carbondale back home to Willits, I saw a police cruiser assisting another vehicle with a smashed front end. I didn’t need to look for the dead or dying animal—I knew it was there. Once again, I could only hope the animal died instantly and that the people involved were unhurt.

But we can do so much better. I strongly urge Pitkin County to remain committed to Roaring Fork Safe Passages. This is an investment in protecting the people who live and work here, and in ending the unnecessary cruelty that plays out on our roads every day.

Posted as a Letter to the Editor in the Aspen Times.