I consider myself incredibly lucky. A pair of Cooper’s Hawks have decided to nest in one of the trees in our back garden. Most evenings they sit on a branch within plain view of our house, tearing birds and small mammals to pieces, the male sometimes mounting the female while she eats. I feel honored. I always feel honored when wildlife shows itself, although, while riding a motorbike that can be a mixed blessing.

Just the other day I was out for a day-long ride in eastern Ontario. Spring came late this year and although the roads were clear, snow was still deep in the woods and the roads were lined with snowbanks. With no traffic to keep me focused, I was burbling along, thinking about nothing in particular when I suddenly had to brake. Three wild turkeys were playing chicken in the middle of the road, and where there are three, there are usually more. I’ve seen rafters (yep, that’s the official name for a flock of turkeys) of up to a dozen females, accompanied by two or three scarlet wattled, puffed up, fan-tailed toms. Turkeys have become a common sight in eastern North America in recent years.

Adult females weigh up to 5kg (11lbs) so getting smacked in the face by one is something I work hard to avoid, and at twice their weight, hitting a male would indeed be a serious and damaging proposition, especially since they would rather run than fly, and if they do take to the air, their lift off is sluggish, usually only reaching helmet height as you approach.

进一步在几英里,我是绕组me along the delightfully curvy Chaffey’s Lock Road I had to slow again for a tricky corner. I know this road well – well enough to know that after a tight right-hander, the road drops sharply into a left hand bend which is always covered in loose, winter road sand. I slowed, aiming for the sand-free patches, and as I did a slight movement caught my eye. Three deer were standing at the edge of the road, their grey-brown coats blending perfectly with the bare trees behind. Would they scatter? Deer are prey animals. Their safety depends on being unpredictable. They might choose to flee and skedaddle across the road or into the forest, or they might just stand and look at me, as these three did, wondering what my deal was.

I pulled over and reached for my camcorder and snapped a little footage, but they’d clearly decided that the salt-soaked browse along the roadside was far more interesting than some old clown on a motorcycle.

On other trips along the same road I’ve seen deer bound across ahead of me. There’s almost always more than one. You might slow for the first and second and think they’re done, but it’s the third and fourth you really have to watch for.

During my many years of motorcycling, I consider myself lucky to have only ever hit two living things – ignoring, for now, the few smaller birds that fly up too late and get smacked. Riding my BSA Royal Star in Norfolk, UK, many years ago I demolished a pheasant that launched itself into my forks. I picked up its corpse and hung it in our kitchen for a few days, but when I went to clean and cook it, it was far too mashed to eat.

Then, only a couple of years ago, I was riding across the prairies when something – either a rabbit or a groundhog – bounded into the side of my Guzzi Eldorado, demolishing my front indicator and giving my right leg a healthy whack. Even a small animal, weighing only a pound or two, can do damage when you hit it at speed. My leg throbbed for the rest of the day.

In my travels in Canada I’ve been lucky enough to see moose, caribou, bears, bighorn sheep, elk and bison, either crossing, or grazing close to the highway. So far I’ve been fortunate to avoid them all. I’m especially glad I avoided the two massive male bison who strutted across the Alaska Highway ahead of me, like a couple of steroid-jacked, pumped-up body builders. Mountains of rippling flesh. An encounter with either one would not have gone well.

Each continent seems to have its share of potentially dangerous fleshy road hazards. From kangaroos and emus in Australia, eland and springbok in Africa, guar in Asia, guanacos in South America, or hedgehogs and zombie pedestrians in Europe, wherever you travel, while watching out for erratic human road users, it’s wise to keep an eye out for the wildlife.

As I said at the beginning, so far I’ve been lucky. I recognize that one of the delights, but also the hazards of living and riding in an area where all wildlife has yet to be exterminated, is that occasionally they cross my path. I don’t speed much. I try to remember to watch the roadsides, ditches and forest edges looking for any signs of movement. Vigilance surely helps, but I also accept that one day, some hairy beast may hurtle out of the forest and we’ll end up in a tangle of fur, guts and metal. All riding involves risk, but for me, the delights far outweigh the perils.

I suspect some of you will have experienced close encounters of the messy and painful kind. If you have, perhaps you could describe them below, along with any advise for other riders.