That means millions of people are hopping into their cars, trucks, monster motor homes or what have you and heading out on the highway.
Having just returned from a 2,000-km trip that took me through North Dakota, Montana, Saskatchewan and Manitoba, I've never seen it so bad.
It was mostly deer -- fawns, usually -- left splattered on the road. Or racoons or skunks or rabbits.
There were a few coyotes, from what I could make of the carcasses as I sped past them at 120 kph (75 mph), and countless smaller creatures.
I know for a fact I creamed a garter snake and several of those quizzical little suicidal ground squirrels, the long thin ones.
They're very fast, those squirrels. They could easily make it across but they stop, right in the middle of the road, to see if it's still safe.
It's a fatal mistake, usually. By the time they start running again, they get smacked.
In my case, I saw one do just that. He ran under my car to his apparent death but I looked through my rear view mirror and saw that my tires missed him.
He survived and ran back to the side from which he came.
I had a lot of time and distance to see this carnage and to contemplate different aspects of it, from the obvious to the mundane.
What if the roles were reversed and animals were invading our cities and towns and killing us as we crossed their paths?
We'd call out the authorities and shoot them all.
In fact, that's exactly what happens now with "problem" alligators in Florida, cougars in the Rockies, wolves on sheep farmers' ranches.
But there's no similar protection for animals in their habitats when they try to cross our superhighways through their natural environment.
Usually signs are posted to indicate deer or mountain sheep are nearby, but that's not going to stop the animals from crossing.
So they get smucked. And they end up on the side of the road, sometimes for quite a long time, attracting crows and other scavengers.
Until the road crews come along to shovel them off the pavement.
Another common group of roadkill victims are birds. They're attracted to the pavement and to gravel shoulders, I assume, for reasons of survival.
It's on those flat, open surfaces they can more easily find the insects they feed on or to scavenge other animals killed by vehicles.
But they pay a price -- their own safety. Every time a car whizzes by, they fly away, only to turn right back again for more easy food on the road or shoulder.
Smack! They gets it.
Now to REALLY take this mind-numbing diatribe to its farthest extreme, what about all the insects we kill as we zoom down the expressway to our destination?
I'm guessing that my car alone, in about 22 hours or so, killed thousands of insects.
Multiply that by how many vehicles were travelling the roads in that time across the continent. Your windshield is a weapon, I tell ya.