I don’t know why, but I have an affinity for turtles. Big turtles, box turtles, tiny turtles. I always wanted my mother to buy me one of those tiny turtles you used to get in dime stores for … a dime! She never did.
Nonetheless, I have turtle stories.
I guess one of my favorites is the day I was driving up Covington Mountain on my way home from the grocery store and I spotted a woman in the middle of the road.
“What in the world is that nutty woman doing?” I wondered.
As I got closer, I realized she was picking up a trundling turtle from the middle of the highway and moving it out of harm’s way. As I got even closer, I realized, Hey! That’s my sister! God bless her.
The last “date” I went on – and believe it or not, it wasn’t all that long ago – the already seemingly great guy screeched his truck to a halt on the road and darted out pretty close to a lumbering log truck and moved a turtle to the side of the road. I was beyond impressed. It was a great, daylong adventure, but this was the thing that made the biggest impression on me.
I myself have moved turtles out of the highway. Once, it was on Clifton Forge Mountain. My sister and I were headed to the Cat & Owl for dinner. We were dressed up. It was back when I wore fabulous, rather expensive shoes. I picked up the box turtle and, as I moved him to the woods, my fashionably shod foot dipped into a big, muddy hole. Ruined shoes didn’t matter, really; the turtle was saved!
Recently, on my daily walk, I came across the most beautiful turtle that ever could be. He seemed to have been splashed with bright orange paint. If you looked closely, you could imagine the paint spelled the letters “Bigge.” So, I named him Biggie and stood there transfixed for several minutes admiring him.
I always move turtles if I possibly can because I’ve seen what can happen if no one does. I once visited the Wildlife Center of Virginia, where injured wildlife is cared for until, and if, it can be returned to the wild. It’s in Waynesboro, and it is very much worth a visit.
In the hospital portion of the facility, nurses were tending to two turtles. They’d been run over, and their shells seemed in near-hopeless condition. The nurses were “gluing” the shells back together with something called Bondo. Other than the Bondo on their broken shells, they seemed none the worse for wear. It did my heart good to see that.
One day, I was driving to Covington and saw the biggest dang turtle I’d ever seen. He was UGLY! He was huge. He was thundering along the highway. I think he may have been a snapping turtle. I did not stop because I was, frankly, afraid of him. I hope he found his way home to a pond or wherever he lives.
From what I understand (game warden shows on Animal Planet), there are huge turtles or tortoises in Texas. I wouldn’t mind getting a gander at one. It would, perhaps, be the only reason I might ever go to Texas.
Life … you gotta love it!
This page is available to subscribers. Click here to sign in or get access.