Witty Turtle Titles Don’t Grow on Trees

6 May

Daily traffic to this blog has spiked 50% since I stopped writing. The message is clear: the blog is better when the author is far away from it.  Despite that, here I am.

Twenty minutes ago, on my way to Starbucks, I came across a turtle in the middle of the opposite lane, ducking from the careless traffic. Some may remember that I’m a leader for defending a turtle’s right to cross busy streets as slow as they damn well please without worrying about being crunched by human monsters.

I turned on the next street, parked haphazardly, and jogged the half block back to the turtle. On the way I watched five more cars drive OVER or go around the frightened reptile that I had already named “Howie.”

The driver of one car seemed concerned where the others just seemed late for church. She drove over the turtle, slowly, and even stopped for a second. I thought Wow, she’s halting traffic and literally shielding the turtle from harm with her car. A fast approaching van quickly decelerated. But then the “concerned” citizen turned into a bowl of jiggly pudding. She moved ahead, appeared to pull over, moved up again, and then slowly drove away, probably thinking “Well, SOMEONE will save that turtle, but what would I do with it? It’s probably filthy.”

My previous TURMs (turtle rescue missions) allowed a one hand scoop-up; this beast required both. With a truck barreling towards me, I peeked in and quickly saw that this was no “Howie.” I chastised myself for naming a turtle from a distance of 100 feet. I then took a single step and a wave of liquid poured onto my right foot.

Defense mechanism? I thought wow, this species of turtle pees like a horse when touched by a human. But then I noticed moss on the shell and realized “Marsha” probably came from nearby LeClaire Park and the liquid on my Croc was pond water. (This bit of knowledge was the second best thing about this episode after, of course, saving Marsha’s life.)

Now that Marsha is all safe, I’m left with the mystery of where she was going.

And why?

Had I interfered with the great turtle exodus of 2012? Labor issues in LeClaire Pond?

Had I prevented a suicide? The April jobs report was disappointing

Maybe she was on an ill-conceived trip to The Mississippi to have her shell detailed.

Important questions, indeed. My Sunday will be dedicated The Great Marsha Mystery of May 6, 2012.

One Response to “Witty Turtle Titles Don’t Grow on Trees”

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Daddy, There’s a Dead Opossum Riding Your Bike Around the House « plum bananas - June 18, 2012

    […] bloody scene was 10 feet from a stop sign! Oh man, I’m getting worked up like I did about that poor turtle. And this poor turtle. I need to take some deep […]

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