Rolling Stone

5 Jul

This morning I noticed a largish grey stone in the front garden. I’d didn’t remember seeing it before, but lately I’ve begun wondering which box I’ve used to pack away my brain, so just figured I’d tend to it later.

A few minutes later I noticed the “stone” was trundling off in the general direction of the pond. Given the layout of our property, how a snapping turtle had managed to get from the stream into the flower bed is one of life’s great mysteries, but I certainly didn’t want this beast in the pond. I figured it was probably a new one – I recognize the three we have by their markings – and three is already, oh…about three more than I wanted. snapping turtle

Emptied one of the cartons I’ve been using to pack books, and went out to corral the monster. While it was busy trying to bite off pieces of the flaps, I picked it up by the sides of the carapace and flipped it into the box. Hooray for our side! Closed the flaps and put it on the back seat of my car, and off we went to church.

Stock photo from Google

Getting across the field and down a muddy bank with a damp corrugated box, which threatened to break apart at any moment, down a steep bank, and to the river’s edge was a bit trickier than I anticipated, but mission accomplished.

I had to put the box in the recycling. I can’t use it to pack books, as it smells of snapping turtle spit.

Spit!

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2 Responses to “Rolling Stone”

  1. tiggerlyss July 6, 2016 at 10:47 am #

    Glad you survived the journey through the back forty of the the church property. But would it not be more prudent to let someone else trudge down to the stream with the spitting cargo or at least let someone know that you are going down in case you fall, Alyssa watches this cartoon in which a boy is born to a mother who had healing tears. He did not get healing tears; he got healing spit. Could that be your spitting snapping turtle?

    • thisendoftheswamp July 6, 2016 at 1:29 pm #

      Well, the only other person who knew – or cared – that I went down there was The Squire, and of course I didn’t have a cell phone. As for the healing properties of snapper-spit, I’M not putting my hand in there to find out!

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