Snappy

On a clear-sky late morning, in fact almost noon, there is excitement in the air. Lunch is waiting. Working at the Home for Aged in Petrolia, has its perks---I’m leaving ten minutes early and the quiet route I take is only a ten minute drive to Wyoming, Ontario.

Coming around the corner I spot an obstruction. A box or rock turns into the shape of a large turtle shell. There’s no move from the openings and I gingerly pick up the object. It’s as if I am lifting an upside down tub, greenish at that---my favourite colour.

I place it behind the seat of my station wagon and continue on my way.  At the house a box fits perfectly as I place the shell inside. So far there is no activity, and I wonder if a turtle really inhabits the space inside. Placing the box beneath the shade of bush aside the house I mangle my lunch, kiss my wife and prepare to head back to work. Check my visitor. Oops, it’s gone. No shell, no turtle and, no time to look for it. Work awaits.    

Before supper I searched for my lost friend. Or did he/she simply run away? Neighbours joined the search, especially after I described the shell. “A snappy turtle!” was blurted from the lips of friends. Searching then began in earnest, especially checking their pools. 

“You picked it up? And didn’t get bitten? Do you realize you could have lost a finger?”

Now why would it do me harm if I was helping the poor critter? It could have been mashed when driven over if I hadn’t stopped and picked it up. We found nothing that evening but the next day was a different story.

Prior to getting into my car and heading off to work, my cat JC began meowing. She had been doing her morning boundary check and came across our lost friend. I followed her to the exact spot our wayward turtle returned to. Behold, it was our missing turtle looking lost and bewildered.

It paused its movement to look me over, as if saying, “I want to go home.” And I wanted it too. So would the neighbours. I placed it, more gingerly this time, in the box, tucked in head and all. I headed to work and stopped beside the river alongside the highway. Movement began to shake the box as if my snapping turtle its release was soon to be.

I picked up the box, seeing the turtle head stretched full out, anxious for the next part of the journey. I could barely hold the box as the turtle kept throwing itself against the sides in violent movements. As I leaned to tip te cardboard enclosure, my turtle leaped out, scrabbled hastily the few remaining feet to the river and plunged in. Success at the home front! I am sure he knew the flow of water would return him to familiar places.