Maybe you don't know about turtles and their love for the road. But they are chronically In the Road, and at risk of being run down.
This one from Harmonie State Park. He was basking in the dim sun on a bizarrely cold day after so many warm ones.
The first year I traveled, I passed a little one on Route 66, and pulled over to move him to the shoulder. A few miles later, I passed a big one, in the middle of the lane, but I was going too fast to stop, and there was no shoulder, so I didn't. He may have made it, but I felt guilty for days, and remember him more than the one I did save years later. I stop every time I see one now.
A few weeks ago, I saw a small box turtle crossing the yellow line, toward my side of the road. I slammed on the breaks, which still equaled a quarter mile stop and pulled up against the only shoulder the country road afforded, next to a bank of mailboxes. I jumped out and started to hurry back toward the turtle, when a truck passed me, going the other way. The turtle was across the line, so I couldn't predict the cruelty of the driver swerving across the double yellow center decider to hit the turtle, flipping him over and over. I screamed. I saw a man walking towards me, and I pointed and said, "he hit it on purpose! Who does that?!" The man ignored me and said something back. I repeated, "he did it on purpose." The man was smiling and repeated, "you hit my mailbox." I looked back to see a box had fallen from a pair of poorly placed rusty nails, but also knew this might be some kind of crime, so I apologized. He reached the box and began to try to reattached it, crushing it into the side of my trailer, which was in the way. I was still thinking of the turtle, and a rage was growing in me that this man expected me to care about a mailbox when a real injustice had occurred and there was suffering, Real suffering, within my sight. He was also damaging my trailer, a far more valuable item than his plastic mailbox on rusty nails. I returned to the car to move it, then examined the box, my eyes returning to the upturned, motionless turtle, and wondering if I should even go look. The man was trying to attached the side of the box to the top of the post, a frustrating indication of his intellect or sobriety, so I took it and shoved it back on the rusty nails. He said, "oh, no damage. Lucky you didn't hit my neighbors box," pointing to the John Deere themed box. It might have cost twice this man's box, but I still questioned if it was worth more than the turtle's life. I returned to the car, feeling traumatized and defeated. Within a block, I made a u-turn and found a pull off past the mailbox bank and closer to the still form of the turtle. There was a wet spot around him. I don't know anything about turtle biology, other than the double skeleton and the reptile part and old age. The liquid was vaguely yellow. The turtle retracted on my approach, which seemed good. I picked him up. The truck had clipped him, but there weren't any cracks or skin breaks. Just the liquid. If it was important, it was out, and I didn't know what to do. I set him in the bushes, to fend as he would. I don't know if he made it, but it left me doubting humanity's worth as planet stewards.
A few days ago, I saw what must have been a giant turtle, entering the shoulder of a busy two lane highway. I haven't seem this kind before. Most distinctly, it had a tail almost as long as it's shell that dragged on the ground behind its low body. There wasn't the distint roundness of the box turtle, but what else walks in the road so slowly, with its head held so high? He was on the shoulder and there was lots of traffic. I was on my way to the Herkimer mines. They were closing, which was a good excuse to come back and look for him. He was gone. I don't know if he turned around or domeone else stopped or he was that fast. But there was no upside down turtle to save this time.
Today, yet again, I passed a shape in the road. It was about the place of the driver's side wheel, coming the other way--not a good place--and it had that upturned-head but long low body look about it, like a tiny version of the previous one. I still thought it might be a leaf. As I rounded the curve, and ideal pull off appeared, so I parked to investigate. As I walked back up the road, several cars passed, swerving around the lump. And sure enough, the lump was moving towards the yellow line. The tiny turtle with the spiky shell had a dinosaur-length tail, with Stegasaurus spikes on it, and when I finally lifted him, the tail whipped around my hand, too long to be pulled into the shell with the head and limbs. I looked under him, careful not to turn him over, and saw the yellow liquid oozing from his sides. Had he been hit? I had watched carefully, but maybe before I passed? I turned him back upright, setting him in my palm as I carried him to the road side, looking for an easy path down to the nearby pond (not the cliff we were facing). He peed a white, milky fluid on me. A sign of fear surely, but maybe health too? I set him down. He opened his eyes, but didn't move. I fretted. I thought, "if he's injured, should I take him? He's so cute, why don't I have my phone or camera?" So I decided I would go for the camera, and decide when I returned. If he was still huddled, maybe he was hurt. If he had moved, then there was nothing to fret. I picked some flowers and set them on the road, so I could find the right spot when I returned. When I came back, he wasn't there. I looked in the brush, still wanting the picture, there was no sign of him, no movement. He was gone. I took the flowers back to the car and moved on.
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