I draw the line at worms. I don’t rescue worms in the driveway after it rains.
Mary does that.
One day this spring she went to my brother’s house to feed his puppies and take them out, and it took her much longer than usual.
“Was there a problem?” I asked, picturing some sort of puppy mischief.
“No,” she said, “I rescued a worm in his driveway. Then I saw another and another. I couldn’t stop.”
I rescue red efts when I see them.
They’re just so darn cute.
More often than not, though, I see eft fatalities (eftalities?) as I walk our road.
One day in May, Mary and I found a confused turtle on the lawn. It was heading up the hill, away from the river and the road, but it had a long way to go before it reached any shade.
I texted my brother. “Hey — would you like a turtle to take into the classroom?” He’s known as Mr. Science, and, in the spring, often brings nature-y things to school.
By the time he answered, though, the turtle was gone.
A few days later I saw what I think was the same turtle crossing the road.
“No!” I yelled to it, and turned to bring my groceries in the house. When I got back out, I was too late. The turtle had already been run over by a car.
Sadly, I picked up the poor turtle, its shell cracked and turtle blood oozing out, and carried it across the road to our compost heap. I nestled it down in a little shady spot, returning it to the earth — ashes to ashes, dust to dust, you know, but without a true grave.
The next day, when I brought compost over, the turtle was gone.
Honestly, I thought a predator ate it. Or maybe the crows who are always raiding the compost decided to have a little turtle meat with their moldy bread.
Fast forward to today. I was waiting to cross the road to get the mail while a steady stream of cars drove past in both directions. After the last car, I took one last look down the road to make sure the coast was clear.
A turtle was crossing.
I sprinted to save that turtle.
How it had made it as far as it did with all those cars was a mystery to me. When I carefully picked it up to carry it across, I saw it had already been injured in the past.
Was it the same turtle? The cracks in the shell were exactly where I remembered them.
I brought it across to the compost heap. It’s a safe place.
I visited it later in the day. It was in a different spot and had fresh injuries.
I guess turtles are slow learners.
Or the world is a dangerous place.
Lately we’ve had a new visitor to our yard. I promise not to help it cross the road.
5 thoughts on “Rescues”
You definitely want to give a porcupine a wide berth.
It’s actually pretty docile. It sits under an apple tree whose apples have already started to drop and munches away on the fruit. I can walk up pretty close, but I don’t want to test my limits too much.
I guess a turtle probably would be a slow learner given that they are slow creatures. I’ll be praying that the lesson has sunk in this time. Praying hard. I can’t bear to see any creatures harmed … roadkill is far too prevalent here. I guess it’s what happens exponentially as the number of humans to the square mile increases ….
The ones that make me saddest are cats and dogs — because they’re someone’s pets — and fawns. As much as the deer can be destructive here, seeing a fawn by the side of the road makes me grieve.
Poor thing. That porcupine looks adorable–I’m not sure I’ve seen them up close before like that.
I’m a worm picker-upper, too, like Mary. Glad to see I’m not the only one. Cheers!
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