Birds at 10,000 feet
In late October Laurel and I flew down to Weatherford for Southwestern's homecoming week. Wanda and Madison stayed in Minnesota as we'd just gotten back from a several-day flying trip to Georgia and back the weekend prior. We took off not long before sunset, had great views of Sol going down, then Laurel crawled into the back seat to watch a movie while I enjoyed the dark night alone, cruising comfortably and smoothly at 10,500 feet with a healthy tailwind and 175 knot groundspeed. Omaha slid silently by; from my lofty perch I could easily see Kansas City's skyglow to the east.
I pulled the throttle over Wichita to start a slow descent when WHAM! - loudest noise I've ever heard in a plane, evah. I'm glad Laurel wasn't on intercom as I said something she didn't need to hear. Since I'd just nanoseconds before pulled the throttle back an inch of MP, I put it back where it was and stared at the engine gauges - nothing, running smoothly. I pulled it back again - running fine. Then I noticed that some of the lights ahead, through the windshield, were dimmer than others; it was a very dark night, and hard to see, but I slowly picked out a big blob of something on the midline of the windshield, about a foot across. My flashlight reflected off the inside of the glass so I couldn't figure out what it was, but assumed it was the innards of something that had once been alive. After landing at Weatherford, Rick and I examined the evidence.
I'd hit some sort of bird with black, gray and white feathers, and it was big enough to make not only that splotch of goo but to tear up my new top windshield seal, bend my ELT antenna (even left a feather stuck to the top of it like a flag), and spray nastiness all up my vertical stabilizer. There was nothing on the prop or cowl. It was too dark for pictures, and I was too tired to do more than just clean it off before we left the airport for the night - didn't want the stuff to eat through my paint and new glass. The colors were right for a Canadian goose, and I was definitely in that species' migratory route. As it didn't come in through the windscreen to visit me in the cockpit I suspect I hit it from behind or from the side, but who knows?
55R cleaned up well and has no damage. We were fortunate indeed.
I pulled the throttle over Wichita to start a slow descent when WHAM! - loudest noise I've ever heard in a plane, evah. I'm glad Laurel wasn't on intercom as I said something she didn't need to hear. Since I'd just nanoseconds before pulled the throttle back an inch of MP, I put it back where it was and stared at the engine gauges - nothing, running smoothly. I pulled it back again - running fine. Then I noticed that some of the lights ahead, through the windshield, were dimmer than others; it was a very dark night, and hard to see, but I slowly picked out a big blob of something on the midline of the windshield, about a foot across. My flashlight reflected off the inside of the glass so I couldn't figure out what it was, but assumed it was the innards of something that had once been alive. After landing at Weatherford, Rick and I examined the evidence.
I'd hit some sort of bird with black, gray and white feathers, and it was big enough to make not only that splotch of goo but to tear up my new top windshield seal, bend my ELT antenna (even left a feather stuck to the top of it like a flag), and spray nastiness all up my vertical stabilizer. There was nothing on the prop or cowl. It was too dark for pictures, and I was too tired to do more than just clean it off before we left the airport for the night - didn't want the stuff to eat through my paint and new glass. The colors were right for a Canadian goose, and I was definitely in that species' migratory route. As it didn't come in through the windscreen to visit me in the cockpit I suspect I hit it from behind or from the side, but who knows?
55R cleaned up well and has no damage. We were fortunate indeed.
posted by The Minnesota Sheltons at 7:13 AM
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