Man claims real animal magnetism

Carl Dumont would rather not break the record for hitting the greatest variety of wild animals with his car.

But there’s no denying that over the last 15 years or so, large game animals have made a habit of dashing in front of Dumont’s cars with uncommon and frightening regularity, dying in the process.

It is definitely not a distinction that Dumont appreciates.

“My relatives and friends say I’m a pretty lucky fellow for having survived the accidents,” Dumont said this week from his family camp at Long Lake in St. Agatha. “Or maybe I’m the unluckiest person alive because it’s happened so much to me. I don’t know. I really can’t explain it.”

Last week, for instance, Dumont was driving his hefty Buick on I-95 at 8:15 p.m., about five miles south of Medway, when he plowed headlong into a large black bear as it sprinted across the highway. All Dumont recalls of the collision was seeing a black streak suddenly appear from the side of the highway, followed immediately by a surreal combination of impact with the 320-pound animal and being blinded by the airbag bursting open in his face.

The state trooper who investigated the accident commented in the newspaper that collisions with elusive animals such as bears are far less common than collisions with moose and deer.

“I’ll take a bear any day over a moose,” the trooper said, explaining that a moose’s higher center of gravity made it much more likely to roll over the car’s hood and crush the people inside.

Dumont agrees with that assessment completely. He hit a moose in 1987. He also hit a deer last year. Having now added a black bear to the gruesome list, Dumont may well be one of the few drivers in Maine to have collided with each of the state’s three largest game animals and to have lived to tell about it.

“I once hit a beaver, too,” Dumont said. “There’s just no way to account for any of it.”

Dumont, a 45-year-old building contractor from Augusta, said he travels frequently on roads that abound with wildlife. He makes as many as 60 trips a year from his house to his camp at Long Lake, a 285-mile drive on narrow, rural roads that offer little chance for evasive action should an animal emerge from the shadows.

In May of 1987, Dumont was driving at 40 mph on Route 1, north of Houlton, when a large female moose galloped directly into his path.

“I thought it was a horse when I first saw it,” he recalled. “I slammed on the brakes, and the next thing I knew the moose’s legs were pointed up toward the sky and her body was coming at me over the engine hood. I realized it was time to get the hell out of the way.”

Dumont dove onto the seat as the 1,000-pound animal passed overhead, peeling back the car’s roof along the way and snapping off the seat’s headrests before tumbling dead onto the road. Dumont’s subcompact Chevrolet landed in a ditch, demolished.

“I had glass embedded in my face, and my heart was just pounding with a combination of sheer fright and shock,” he said. “A truck driver ran over to my car and said he thought I was torn in half and dead for sure. It is absolutely the worst feeling you can imagine.”

He said he never even saw the deer that bounded into the side of his car last year on Cleveland Road in St. Agatha.

Dumont said that while he occasionally pushes the highway speed limit a bit, on rural two-lane roads he always drives at modest speeds with his senses on highest alert.

“I can assure you I’m not a reckless driver,” he said in answer to anyone who might suspect otherwise. “I am extremely careful, but each of these accidents was unavoidable. There are just so many animals around, and they can come right out of nowhere and take you completely by surprise.”

Dumont said he can understand why the families of people killed in moose-car collisions are urging state officials to make the roads safer by expanding Maine’s moose-hunting season, although he doesn’t necessarily agree with the approach.

“The biologists and wildlife professionals, not a small group of citizens, should be the ones to make the assessment about whether to cull the herd,” he said. “The rest of us are just going to have to become more vigilant and aware of all the animals around us on the roads and do what we can to prevent tragedies. The truth is, you can’t always stop in time to avoid hitting an animal. I’m living proof of that. ”

Meanwhile, Dumont said he has learned to drive through the woods like a man who knows that anyone’s luck can run out eventually – even his.

“Yeah, I definitely count my blessings each day,” Dumont said. “After hitting the bear, I drove all the way up to camp, without the radio on, thinking please, don’t let anything happen before I get there.”