Not long ago, some knuckle-dragging neanderthal left a grisly scene at road’s edge for all the public to view.

Daylight was just filtering through the canopy of Oregon firs as I drove Highway 22 south of Detroit. The road threads its way through an old growth forest, and the trees crowd close to the shoulder.

With the forest so close at hand, a driver never knows what to expect around the next curve. Axle-breaking boulders tumble onto the pavement; deer and elk often customized the fenders of cars and trucks. I was carefully watching both shoulders of the road for the unexpected.

Just above Milepost 72, something gray at road’s edge caught my attention. Another split-second look confirmed it — a coyote! Not one but at least two coyotes were lying close by, but something seemed terribly wrong. Both animals were lying very still.

A mile later I found a wide spot and turned around to investigate. As my truck rolled to a stop on the cinder shoulder, I was horrified by what I found. There were indeed coyotes — four in all — lying dead by the road. All had been shot with a high-powered gun, and then the carcasses dumped alongside the highway.

I nudged several of the unfortunate beasts with the toe of my boot. Rigor mortis had not yet set in; the critters had been dumped during the night. While traffic whizzed by a few feet away, I snapped a few photos and hurried off to my meeting. My cell phone was out of service, but I hoped to find someone to whom I could report my discovery.

As luck would have it, I found no one with a radio or cell phone that day. While I worked, I could not forget the gruesome scene. There was no excuse for anyone to wantonly discard the four carcasses as though they were cigarette butts.

Twenty-five miles from the nearest town, in the middle of a federal forest, I could not understand why the animals were even killed. They were not a threat to sheep or chickens, nor were there any homes where marauding coyotes might enjoy tidbits of garbage or housecats. There were only miles of uninhabited forest where the coyotes could hunt mice and other rodents.

It was late afternoon when I returned to Milepost 72. I vowed that I would at least bury the hapless animals, but someone had already removed the carcasses, leaving no evidence of the massacre.

Photos taken at the scene by Mickey Bellman

What bloodthirsty ignoramus would kill four coyotes in the middle of a forest and then simply toss the carcasses along a public highway? Perhaps it is the same beer-guzzling redneck who curses anyone who wants to ban hunting and firearms. Perhaps it is the same “marksman” who assumes all road signs are merely targets posted for his personal enjoyment.

Unfortunately, to the detriment of responsible sportsmen, the disgusting actions of a few thoughtless jerks taint the reputation of all.