I’ve said before that I was born and raised a city girl. For a number of years, though, my husband and I have lived in the country; some people refer to it as “the sticks.”
For the most part, I love it. I love the sound of crickets at night. I love watching tons of trees change in the fall. I even love the critters that we see in our yard and on our land.
Most times, that is…
Just the other day, my husband and I were heading out to run errands. While coming up the driveway, he asked, “Hey, is that a turtle in the road?” It was. There was a turtle in our driveway, and I got all excited.
“Stop! Stop!,” I yelled. Then I jumped out of the car (well, when it stopped, of course) and ran to get the turtle. I mean, suppose someone else came up or down the driveway and didn’t see him? In one splat, he would become food for something else.
(Now don’t get on me about how that’s natural and part of the food chain and the circle of life and all that crap. I know all about that. I just don’t need to see it up close and personal in my driveway.)
I picked up the turtle, and, as turtles do, he promptly (I’m assuming it was a “he” as we all know that a female turtle would have asked for directions and wouldn’t be just sitting in the middle of a driveway wondering where to go) ducked into his shell. But I could see some beautiful reddish lines on his face and wanted to share this with my husband.
So I go up to his car window and say, “Look at the beautiful red lines on his face!”
Before we can have our own sweet “appreciating nature” moment, Mr. Turtle decides to stick his head and feet out and start moving everything really fast like he was trying to swim through the air.
If his little turtle toenails hadn’t brushed my hand, I think I would have been okay. But they did. So I wasn’t.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!” I yelled, as I ran across the driveway and into the grass with Mr. Turtle. I put him down on the ground, pointed toward the woods. I had saved him and hoped that he didn’t turn around and start back for the street.
I got in the car. My husband was laughing. He looked at me and said, “He wasn’t going to hurt you, you know.”
Well, really, how do you know that? I mean for sure? He was a young turtle, and he could have been running away from home. And I foiled his plan.
He could have been on his way to meet with his hot Turtle Girlfriend. And I just put him 10 hours out of his way by moving him. He’d be late for his romantic dinner of whatever icky things turtles eat. Turtle Girlfriend would get mad. They might even break up over it.
Or perhaps he really didn’t care and just trudged back through the woods, forgetting about the entire incident in a second.
As for me, I didn’t forget. But I did get out the Purell. As I said, I’m a city girl at heart, and while I like experiencing nature, sometimes it really creeps me out.
Michele Wojciechowski, when she’s not running away from Killer Turtles, writes Wojo’s World™ from the safety of her inside home office. Check her out on Facebook at www.facebook.com/WojosWorldFanPage or on Twitter @wojosworldtm.