One of the advantages of living in Britain (and rural North Hampshire in particular) is that the worst thing I need to worry about is the occasional Kamikaze Badger.

My Dad hit one about 25 years ago. He went straight over the bars and landed on his face. The badger seemed OK and went of grumbling like an old man ( as they do).
I had to run him into hospital with a towel wrapped round his face. I'd just bought a car and didn't want him bleeding all over the passenger seat.