A Helpless Shell in the Dust
Four webbed feet kicked empty air as the flat yellow plastron rocked side to side against rough grey asphalt.
A blue car idled in the distance along the curved mountain lane, while pine trees threw long morning shadows across the warm ground.
Rubber soles struck the pavement in a steady rhythm, slowing abruptly as a runner in a teal jacket spotted the dark shape ahead.
Her stride faltered.
She dropped her hands to her knees, chest heaving under her running shirt, her eyes locked on the upside-down form struggling only inches from the driving lane.
The turtle pulled its striped neck inward, neck folds bunching tight against the hard rim of its shell as heavy footsteps drew closer.
Gentle Hands On Hot Asphalt
Setting her plastic water bottle upright on the gravel shoulder, she dropped into a low squat.
Her fingers hovered inches above the flared edges of the lower shell, waiting for the flailing claws to slow their desperate pedaling.
She slid her palms under both sides of the flared rim, curling her fingers securely around the smooth, rounded edges to avoid the kicking feet.
With a slow, deliberate twist of her wrists, she lifted the weight and rotated the creature forward.
The dull thud of feet hitting stone echoed softly against the empty roadbed.
All four clawed limbs spread wide instantly, gripping the uneven tar as the turtle extended its ridged neck and peered into the brush.
The jogger reached down and twisted the clear cap off her water bottle, letting the threads click free.
Tilting the plastic neck downward, she tipped a clear, glistening stream across the dark scutes of the carapace.
Water pooled in the grooved sutures between the plates before spilling down the sides, washing away dust and wetting the dry, heated keratin.
She smoothed one fingertip along the wet crest of the shell, observing the striped head stretch outward toward the pine needles.
A Walk Down to the Shoreline
Tucking the sealed bottle under one arm, she positioned her thumbs across the top dome and curled her fingers underneath the belly plate once again.
The turtle drew its limbs back slightly as its weight left the asphalt, swinging gently as she stood fully upright.
She turned away from the paved roadway and headed straight down the sloping dirt path lined with coarse sand and dry pine needles.
Each step down the sandy incline carried them farther from the roadway, the turtle’s claws occasionally paddling in midair against her grip.
Ahead, the open water of the mountain lake sparkled under the morning sky, surrounded by tall reeds and sunlit hills.
She lowered herself down to the damp shoreline, the wet sand compressing beneath the soles of her running shoes.
Bending low at the water’s edge, she placed the turtle’s front claws directly into the cool, clear shallows.
Circular ripples spread out across the glassy surface as the dark limbs pushed into the submerged pebbles.
She lifted her palms away, watching quietly from a crouch with her hands resting lightly on her knees.
The turtle extended its striped head forward, dipped beneath the water’s surface, and kicked its hind legs in long, smooth strokes toward the open reeds.
Know someone who always stops for animals in need? Share this with them.
