After you drive a couple hundred miles in Iceland you figure something out: the roadkill here is different than back home. There are far few familiar critters -- no rabbits, snakes, possums, armadillos, racoons, deer (there are reindeer) coyotes or squirrels. Now, some of these might be here, but I never saw any, dead or alive. Once you get outside Reykjavik there is so little population you don't even see squashed house cats.
There are a couple trillion sheep, of course, and cows and horses, but I didn't see any dead on the road.
What you do see are flattened birds, almost all seagulls. They must be stupid or unaccustomed to traffic because they barely get out of your way when you approach. That, of course, is why they end up dead, no brainer there.
I saw two live seagulls right on the road. I stopped at the second one, curious if it was resting or hurt. The little fellow looked up at me with very sad eyes and squirmed enough to reveal a broken foot and wing. "Help me Mister," I think he said, but I am not sure. I wanted to pick him up and take him to a bird hospital. But I didn't think there was anything like that. And I couldn't pack him in my suitcase for my flight home a few days later. So I left him and drove away. I felt like a heel, but what could I do?