Along the highway edge where the bird I hit would have landed, I counted a robin and a non-descript brownish bird, quite small. Neither were the size-color of "my" confused bird, but they pointed to a far more wide-spread problem than one suicide bomber. In the next mile, but still before the big bridge, I saw one smallish black bird. As I passed, he seemed to have a flash of color on the wings. After I passed the half mile of railing with the bridge in the middle, I passed two more birds, both about where I was when I hit mine. It must be a popular spot for bird whacking... One was a lot more covered with grit than the other, so I assumed he was an older hit than mine. Needless to say, I arrived at school all depressed again.