"There's a little turtle," I said. Its shell was maybe an inch and a half long with a tail that seemed oddly long to me, maybe another inch.
Mom was a few paces ahead but turned back to see.
"That's a snapping turtle," she said.
I wasn't sure if it was alive since it was so still and its shell was covered with pale dirt like from the construction site.
"It's dirty," she commented.
I crouched down to get a little closer to take a photograph. I was still a foot away when the baby turtle took off. It didn't go far but it was fast. I had entered its personal space and it was not having it.
At least it was at the edge of the road instead of on it then. Unfortunately it was on the side leading to the construction.
"It'll never get where it wants to go now," Mom said. "You should pick it up and move it."
"Where?"
"Over there," Mom said, pointing to the side of the temporary bridge that would lead down to the creek.
"Feel free," I said with a sweeping arm gesture.
"I don't want to," Mom said.
"Why not?"
"I don't want my fingers to get snapped," she replied.
"Gee, thanks," I said.
Having seen how fast it moved when I was still a foot away, I had no doubt it could swing around and bite me in a flash. I was not up for it.
"Sorry, little guy," I said as Mom and I walked further on.
15 years ago on TTaT: Multiples of Eleven
