Leaving work for lunch the other day, I risked life and limb to save the life and limb of a turtle. It's a very busy street, especially at noon time. I knew the guy didn't have a chance if I left him. When I picked him up off the road, the little shit thanked me profusely by profusely peeing on my leg. I didn't have anything to put him in, so I just set him on the back right floorboard of my car on a towel I had.
I have a friend who has turtles in her backyard. She loves turtles. I call her and convince her she needs a new turtle. Yes, she says, but is it a box turtle or a water turtle? I tell her I don't know from turtles, but I'm coming to her house anyway.
I pull into my friend's driveway, get out of my car, and retrieve Mr. T. My friend looks at him and says, oh no, that's a water turtle. His home is water, not a backyard. Well great, I say. But I guess I'm lucky you live by a park that has a pond. I will just take him there.
So, I put him back on the floorboard of my car, and, after handling him all this time, go into Helen's house to get a pair of gloves. When I come back, he's not on the floorboard anymore. He has crawled under my passenger seat and has latched onto the carpet for dear life. I don't want to hurt him by forcing him loose, but I am also on my lunch hour. And I don't need a turtle nesting under my passenger seat while I'm at work. It would be to his detriment as well as mine. And to top it off, when I got dressed for work that morning, I was not planning to be a terrapin rescuer. As I am leaning into the backseat compartment to try to get him out, the wind keeps blowing my top over my head, not only impeding my view, but probably causing concern for the neighborhood mothers who have children at home. There was nothing to the imagination.
I ask Helen to get something bright that perhaps she can wave in the front part of the seat to scare him enough to make him turn legs and back up. She comes back with a bright white tin sign, jiggles it just in front of him, and it does the trick. Mr. Turtle does the moonwalk back into my gloved hand.
Long story short (Hahahaha!), I put him in a paper bag that Helen gave me, drive to the pond, and release him.
But there's a loose dog running around, so not knowing turtle and dog interactions, I put him back in the paper bag, and drive to a different spot. And release him.
Then I see the lawnmower guy. I don't personally know turtle and lawnmower interactions, but I have a really graphic imagination, so I put him (turtle, not lawnmower guy) in the paper bag, and drive to a different spot. And release him.
This time, turtle nirvana! He does the Turtle Shuffle on the short path of land that he has, but a full Mark Spitz once he hits the water.
My work there was done.
This is a great story and I will never forget it. For course, I have turtle recall.
ReplyDeleteGood for you!
ReplyDeleteMy husband, Greggie, is a self-motivated turtle-rescuer. He swore the last time that he rescued a snapper that he wouldn't do it again because the nasty thing was snapping at him the whole time. Then he found out that, if a turtle is trying to cross the road don't take him back the way he came, carry him across the road and let him go. Turns out Gregg was doing it all wrong and the turtle was just trying to let him know.
Tell Greg thanks, that he has given me the answer to the age old question, "Why does the turtle cross the road?"
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