Dayton Stoner was so looking forward to his summer road trip.

It was a beautiful day in June 1924.

Stoner was a biologist, a bug and bird guy,

and he was traveling from Central Iowa to Lake Okoboje near the Minnesota border.

He planned to spend a month there at a research station.

His wife, Lillian, who doubled as his assistant, was nestled into the front seat next to him.

They no doubt had a scrumptious picnic packed for lunch.

There were no car radios back then, so all they could do was enjoy the scenery on the open road ahead of them.

Unfortunately, a jarring note soon sounded.

Within a minute of them leaving town, they spotted a dead animal beside the road.

Stoner never recorded what it was, but possibly a red-headed woodpecker,

a spunky black and white bird with a startling scarlet hood.

As a biologist, seeing any dead animal saddened Stoner.

Still, this was supposed to be a vacation, so he didn't let it drag him down.

Except, then it happened again.

This time it was maybe a squirrel or a rabbit.

It had a tire mark on it, squashed by the side of the road.

Upon seeing it, Stoner no doubt backed off the gas pedal himself, then padded Lillian's hand.

The sight was sad, but what could you do?

Except, then it happened again, and again and again.

Every mile it seemed, he spotted a new dead animal on the road, all of them flattened by automobiles,

which was awkward given that Stoner was himself driving a car.

...