On the other side of the street, a Canadian goose was hit- a truly horrible sound, like someone had punted the thing with a steel-toed boot. And then keeled over, quite dead with the snapper's head (now mostly mashed into goo,save for the beak) buried in it's chest.
The shell was all that remained, intact, rocking back and forth a bit and steaming slightly, reamed out. For about three feet in a circle around, the cul-de-sac was painted a Nurgle-esque mix of green, red, and black from pureed snapper turtle- a beast so hateful it maimed it's killers and managed to take a full grown bird with it on the way out. We found bits of claw or turtle bone in car bumpers and vinyl siding for weeks afterwards. The shell stayed where it was- nobody wanted to touch the thing and finally the local garbage truck ended up smashing it to pieces running it over.
I don't get near the fuckers anymore. Ever.