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Turtles All the Way Down

Remember that story about a Great Flood that's featured in so many episodes on the History channel? If I remember correctly, 40 days and 40 nights of rain figure into it. Well, it's rained without stopping for 18 months in North Carolina and although the mountains are still above above water, all the rivers, lakes, and many of the roads are overflowing.


I was feeling particularly peevish on this dark, rainy morning, and so I thought a little outing with the radio tuned to just the right channel would help soothe my irritable mood. And so Ms Wonder and I climbed into the Volvo and began cruising the roads, doing our best to avoid low areas and high water.

I began to feel a little better as I listened to Supertramp performing Goodbye Stranger. The decision to get out of the house was a good one I thought. It just goes to show that, once again, the Universe proved to be a foul practical joker.

We made a right turn onto Farm-to-Market Road, remembering it to be elevated above the surrounding terrain but the sheet of water washing over the road where it crossed Sutter's Creek told us that it simply wasn't so. We slowed to a stop a few feet from the torrent.

There was no other traffic on the road, so it would be easy to turn around but I sat there for a few moments, not really thinking of anything in particular. I do that sometimes. It's nothing for you to worry about. It passes quickly. But it didn't pass quickly enough this time.

"Look!" said the Wonder pointing into the water.

Her tone of voice made it clear that something worth noting was there in the water but, try as I might, I couldn't see it. Not at first anyway. But then I did see something. I wasn't sure what it was. A dark shape in the water that was doing an impressive imitation of Nessie.

The head and about 4 inches of the neck were above water. For those of you living in the Federated Malay States, the 4 inches would be about 10 centimeters. Behind the head, there was a curved back with ridges running down the spine. Ridges similar to those on an alligator's back, but this was no alligator. It was a snapping turtle.

"Do something!" wailed the Wonder.

"What?" I asked. "Do what?"

"It's heading for the storm drain," she said. "We can't let it go down the storm drain."

Well, you're fully aware by now that we Genomes are quick-witted, and as soon as she said storm drain I understood her concern. The sewer is certainly no place for a snapping or any other turtle. No argument from me on that point but what I wanted to know was who she meant when she said, we.

"Please," she said. "It's moving fast. It will be too late if you don't hurry."

Now, if you frequent these pages with any regularity, you know that when this woman of wonder pleads for my help, her wish becomes my command. 

I was out of the car even before I finished the mental inventory of the things I didn't have to help move a snapping turtle. But although I was short of snapping turtle moving tools, my timing in exiting the car was perfect for the prank planned for me by the Fate sisters. I was drenched in a cold down-pour in about three seconds.

My clothes were soaked and I was cold and shivering.  The rain in my eyes made it difficult to see clearly. My shoes were in ankle-deep water making squelching noises as I walked. "Mama!" about summed up my attitude.

Squelch, slosh, squelch, slosh....

The turtle was moving fast. Snappers do move quickly, unlike their cousins, and the water flowing into the drain was helping with his breaststroke, which wasn't bad without the help. He was dangerously close to the drain.

A glance toward the car told me that the anguish still darkened  Ms. Wonder's face. It was her pleading look that spurred me on. I would be her knight and I would slay this dragon. Not an appropriate metaphor, you're probably thinking, and you're right but still, I think you know what I mean.

As it sometimes happens, a solution came to me at the last instant. Like a bolt out of the blue--another bad metaphor--I suddenly recalled a poster I'd seen about rescuing turtles from the roadway. 

That poster included the how-to for holding a turtle in a way that prevents the rescuer from needing rescue. I was certain that I could do it. Not totally certain but close enough to be getting on with.

Squelch, slosh, squelch, slosh... 

I moved quickly behind him with a low, stooping approach like a professional bowler approaching the lane. Where do these mental images come from?

Squelch, slosh, squelch, slosh... 

I grabbed his shell with my right hand at about 5 o'clock and picked him up out of the water. I was surprised by how heavy he was. He was surprised too, judging by the expression on his face. Probably not a frequent flyer.

Squelch, slosh, squelch, slosh... 

I grabbed him with my other hand at about 7 o'clock. But he was wet and I was off balance due to his unexpected heaviness. I was struggling to hold on to him and remain upright. It forced me to move faster than I'd planned.

Squelch, slosh, squelch, slosh... 

I was too far into the forward fall to recover but I would still save this turtle and win the favor of the Lady Wonder. Giving it my all to keep balanced, I lifted the turtle up as high as I could to get him above the guard rail. He seemed to be enjoying the bird's eye view; his eyes were opened wide and he had a sort of smile on his face.

At this precise moment, the turtle was able to scratch my hand with a rear foot. Now, this clawing did no damage to my hand. It did however add a great deal of excitement to the experience. 

You remember Princess Amy, of course. She decided that the scratch could be serious and that another scratch was probably coming. The drive to win the favor of Lady Wonder combined with Amy's cries of Run for your life! proved too much. I took it big!

Yes, I panicked. Not something the Genome often does. Let there be no doubt about that. But on this occasion, I caved. Not only was I off balance but I was fully extended and falling toward the stream below me. 

I released the turtle and he flew up and up, then he seemed to pause at the top of the arc before turning down, down. All my post-release English did nothing to improve his azimuth. In short, he went straight into the storm drain. And I went straight into about 8 inches of water on the roadway.

Nothing is so bitter as disappointment in the eyes of your lady. Nothing that is except realizing, when it's too late to be meaningful, that it was all unnecessary anyway. You see when I tell you that the turtle went into the drain, it's assumed that he ended up in the storm sewer. But that's not what happened.

This particular storm drain emptied not into a sewer, but into Sutter's Creek that runs underneath the road at this point. All the effort I'd put into getting the turtle into the creek was pointless because that's where he was going anyway.

How will I turn this into a positive experience for the Genome, I wondered. The answer came right away. It wasn't going to happen. My only option was to throw myself at the mercy of the Universe.

By the time I squelched my way back to the car, the laughter coming from inside told me that the Universe had ruled against me.