NAMPA, Idaho _ It's taco night at the Lindskoog household in this suburban community 20 miles west of Boise. Nate Lindskoog has seasoned the red meat sizzling in his cast-iron skillet with a mixture of chili powder and Himalayan pink salt. In a few minutes, he will wrap it in corn tortillas and top it off with lime-soaked avocados.
The 36-year-old father of six isn't making carne asada with meat he bought from a butcher or at the grocery store. Instead, he's searing venison from a deer killed by a car on Lake Avenue.
"That is just fine," he said, taking a bite of the cilantro- and onion-garnished taco. "I've had worse tacos in restaurants that were $10. This was free, laying on the side of the road."
Between 1 million and 2 million large animals are hit by vehicles every year in the United States in accidents that kill 200 people and cost nearly $8.4 billion in damages, according to estimates from the Federal Highway Administration.
Instead of wasting roadkill or mocking it as hillbilly cuisine, Idaho is tracking the carnage and allowing residents to salvage the carcasses to reduce the number of vehicle-animal collisions and feed hungry people.
Now more states are joining Idaho and others, letting people like Lindskoog, owner of a local breakfast and burger joint, reclaim fresh, nutrient-dense, grass-fed meat that might otherwise end up as a grease stain on the highway. ("We don't serve any game at the restaurant," he assured.)
Lindskoog has salvaged three deer, a couple of times getting a tip from a local sheriff's deputy about an accident near his home. At a safe distance off the highway shoulder, he can butcher all the meat he wants in 30 minutes or less, later freezing it to be used in a year's worth of meals.
As a conservationist, he's eager to let the coyotes, eagles and the rest of the ecosystem take care of what remains.
"This was a living thing," he said. "It's the most respectful thing to do if wild game dies. It's the best way to dignify its death."
After Lindskoog returns home, he's required by state law to visit the Idaho Fish and Game website within 24 hours to describe the roadkill: what species he salvaged, its gender and where and when he found the animal.
For Idaho, each dead deer, elk, moose, coyote, black bear, porcupine and pronghorn is a data point.
State officials use the information to identify animal migration patterns, feeding areas and dangerous stretches of road. Their goal is to protect animals, but also people and their vehicles, said Gregg Servheen, Idaho Fish and Game wildlife program coordinator.
"We've built an entire transportation system across the whole United States, and for decades it's been, 'Flattened fauna, who cares?'" Servheen said in his Boise office. "You hoped you didn't hit one. You drove by them all the time. It was just a given.
"Now we're getting to a point where maybe there's a better way."
Since legalizing roadkill salvaging in 2012, Idaho has used its data to build fencing, warning signs, wildlife underpass tunnels and wildlife overpasses to protect deer, elk and other animals.
In the first two months of this year, Idahoans salvaged more than 300 animals from the side of the road, adding to the more than 5,000 animals retrieved since 2016.
Not every animal is legally salvageable in Idaho. Nongame wildlife, threatened or endangered species, migratory birds and other animals that are not legally hunted are off-limits. This includes bald eagles, Canada lynx and grizzly bears.
Servheen acknowledges that the state's data depends on scattered reports from residents. Data might identify a migration pattern, or it might just identify a community where people more diligently report roadkill. The online form isn't accessible to many Idahoans who live in the backcountry without reliable cell or internet service.
Whatever its limitations, Idaho's salvaging law has been the basis of similar laws that have recently passed in neighboring Oregon and Washington.
Oregon state Sen. Bill Hansell has a new nickname around the chamber. "Roadkill Bill," a Republican from a rural district the size of Maryland, Hansell authored the bill that unanimously passed the legislature in 2018.
He saw the roadkill as a wasted opportunity. Now, he said, Oregonians "are being fed high-protein, organic meat they've chosen to eat that otherwise would have rotted on the side of the road."
In January, the month the law went into effect, Oregonians salvaged 124 animals, mostly deer and elk. Unlike in Idaho, though, residents must turn in the antlers and heads of the animals to the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife officials. Hansell hasn't salvaged any roadkill yet.
While more than half of states have some version of a roadkill salvaging law _ some even for decades _ momentum has been growing in Western states to pass new legislation.
