Picture the scene:
Sun is shining, it is actually warm for once, and you go for a drive into the countryside. Twisty, grippy roads, relatively open and free - and importantly, 60 limits. Plenty of scope for a fun, relaxing drive.
Well, that is until you come across a suicidal bird. Usually a pheasant, and usually with less road sense than, well, something with no road sense what so ever?
So you slow down, thinking it will fly away. Except they seem relucant to fly. At all.
So you slow down further, and hope it walks/waddles/stumbles to the kerb. Nope. It just sits there.
That is, until you are mere centimeters away, at which point life must flash before its eyes and it makes an incoherent series of movements and by mere millimetres, dives out of the way.
With that one dodged, you can carry on enjoying the sunshine, the road, the driving, however are acutely aware of the suicidal wild life that want to end their existance with the front of the car, usually with expensive consequences.
Just don't get me started on Milton Keynes' rabbit population, eh Rasta?