One late fall night at 4,500 feet I hit a bird. At the time I had no idea for sure what happened. I had left Sheboygan, WI and settled in for a nice smooth 1.5 hour late night flight back home. As I crossed over Lake Winnebago there was a horrendous thud and the entire Cessna 150 shuddered. I checked the instruments but they were fine. The engine was purring along normally and a quick check of the controls showed that they were all responding well. I grabbed my mini-Mag Light, ripped off the red lens and started scanning what I could see of the outside of the plane. I couldn't see any damage to the airplane at all.
With another few minutes before I would be over land my mind started to piece together the puzzle. I figured I must have hit a bird. Since I couldn't see any damage it either hit the tail or the landing gear. Since the elevators and rudder were responding very well and the plane was still flying hands off I assumed that if it hit the tail, the damage had to be minimal of the plane would be pitching one way or the other. That left me with one sinking thought. Something had hit the landing gear and the only way I would know for sure if there was damage was when I landed the plane. By the time I reached the edge of Lake Winnebago I had decided that my best course of action was to fly on to my destination and land verrrry carefully. If something did go wrong, at least I would be at my home airport and be able to handle it better.
I can't begin to tell you all of the thoughts that a guy thinks after an hour of flying wondering if the landing gear is going to work. Yet an hour later I was on a long final and about to find out. There were slight cross winds but that helped my plan. I dropped in all 40 degrees of flaps and came in slow. I eased in some power and touched the up wind gear down and rolled on it for a while. It seemed to hold so I set the other gear down, ready with the rudder and the throttle. Nothing happened. As the speed bled off, the nose came down and again nothing happened. The 150 settled to a gentle roll as if nothing at all had happened!
When I finally rolled to a stop and got a chance to inspect the plane I found what had happened. The bird had hit the plane at the intersection of the wing and the strut. The bird must have been split in two or bounced off. There were feathers and guts crammed in the gap between the wing and the strut but there was very little blood. I couldn't see the evidence from the cabin, but it was obvious.
The moral of the story. I dunno. Clean living and dumb luck helps sometimes.






