Share the Road!

 Tooling along the Greenway on my bicycle, minding my own business, when up ahead I see a dark shape crossing the trail. My refusal to wear spectacles unless absolutely necessary renders it a moving blob, but the roundy shape and slow movement help my brain translate it to turtle!

I  hurriedly dismount, fumbling in my backpack for the camera (only later do I laugh at my haste...how fast could a turtle get away?) and snap a few shots from afar. The turtle drops to its belly and retracts its legs, leaving only a dignified head and neck stretched out to the sky. As I approach, the head, too, disappears into the shell. It is a painted turtle, as big as my face, with a smooth dark shell and yellow striping on its face and neck.

So much for minding my own business. The turtle silently judging me with its disdainful expression, I circle it like we're doing a fashion shoot. Sheltered in its shell (ha) it remains aloof even as I hunker down in front of it for a close-up right into its tiny, tubular nostrils. I move away a few meters and wait. And wait. Another cyclist passes, and a pedestrian, each eyeing me and then the turtle without a word. Still the turtle sits on its belly on the trail. The cyclist passes again, going to opposite direction, me and the turtle still in our standoff.

After what seems like forever, and with surprising alacrity, the turtle's head and limbs pop out and it starts trucking for the edge of the trail and the grass beyond. I watch, wanting to make sure it moves safely out of the way of anyone or anything that might cause trouble for it, but the silly thing turns and begins walking along the trail towards the soccer park.

I figure I have hassled the poor thing enough, but I can't resist moving it off the trail a few feet into the grass where it might be a little less vulnerable. It is heavy and warm, and I hold it carefully. In addition to its shell, the painted turtle's defenses include biting or scratching using its long claws--or urinating on its assailant.

The turtle safely deposited, I go back along my merry way. I recall another encounter, driving along I-80 and seeing a similar roundy, slow-moving shape up ahead. My heart pounding, there is not much to do at 70 miles an hour except maneuver to straddle it with my tires. Thankfully, my car did not touch the turtle, but I don't imagine it made its way safely across all the lanes to wherever it was trying to reach. Cars are enemies of painted turtle (as they are enemies of just about every creature they encounter), as the turtles may travel several miles and cross many roads as they search for mates or suitable nesting places.

I suppose my "helping" the turtle on the Greenway was a belated and wholly one-sided attempt to soothe my conscience at leaving that turtle to its fate on the interstate. So be safe out there, little critters--and be careful, drivers.