Snappy

A few weeks ago the girls and I ventured to a local park. They hung out on the beach and the playground while I walked the park's 3-mile trail. It was a beautiful, sunny day spent out and about together. After a quick lunch of pop, chips, and granola bars (I know, I know), we headed out to do some house-gazing; a favorite pastime of mine which I was pleased to discover the girls enjoyed. For me, drive-by house surfing satisfies my high level of domicile envy. The girls simply enjoy watching my level of panic increase as I find myself lost (temporarily, mind you) or too near the river, or railroad tracks. Or worst yet, lost on a dirt road next to railroad tracks close to the river.

Ah, phobias, I embrace thee, if only because you so verily entertain my children!

Anyway, on our way home after this foray, we drove back past the entrance to this park, which is known for its proximity to the Raccoon River, its large lake, playgrounds, etc. A lot of construction was taking place along the road at its entrance.

As I was zooming along, content in my recently demonstrated ability to simultaneously freak out, entertain my children, and subsequently find my way home, I saw a big muddy bump in the middle of this very busy road. As we got closer, it sure looked like a turtle, but I dismissed the thought since it wasn't moving.

As we passed the bump, Sarah exclaimed, "Mom, that was a turtle in the road!"

After the obligatory argument of the "no it wasn't"/"yes it was" variety, I turned the car around and went back to the park, pulling the car off the road near the entrance.

Sarah jumped out to investigate, declaring the rectitude of her perception, "I told you it was a turtle!"

Ah, then the dilemma. How to rescue a large snapping turtle (I was sure that's what it was - we couldn't possibly have been called upon to rescue a plain, old, mild-mannered turtle) in the middle of a busy road.

Just then, I spotted a couple jogging by and told Sarah to run up and ask for their help. Mind you, my part in this rescue so far entailed sending my 17-year-old daughter out into the middle of a busy four-lane road to ask strangers to help rescue a turtle.

That, and I did turn the car around.

Not one of my proudest moments.

The couple stopped and the guy pulled up a couple of construction stakes and he and Sarah started scooting the turtle off the road. Said turtle obviously had a death wish, since he didn't offer one whit of assistance in his rescue.

I could tell, from the safety of the front seat, that he was hefty, too, by watching how they struggled to move him to safety.

How much does a snapping turtle the size of an 11 x 14 sheet paper weigh? Google wasn't particularly helpful with this.

Finally, he was safely on the side of the road, but was still way too far from the lake for comfort. What to do?

We decided to empty our cooler, scoot the turtle into it, then drive him back to the lake. By this time, Melissa and I decided to join more directly in the rescue effort. While we all stood lined up by the busy road, cars and trucks began to slow, watching what was going on.

We'd become a bona fide rubber-necking event!

One woman pulled her car over, crossed the lanes of traffic, and told us, "With the way my life's been going lately, I just had to watch this! This is great!"

Finally, turtle-in-cooler, the joggers took off, the traffic began to move again, and the girls and I lugged our unwilling rescue-ee toward the back of the Prius.

Once he was heaved in, we drove toward the boat ramp, getting as close to the edge of the river as possible. A quick dump and a little prompting with a stick, and Snappy took off into the water, ready to wreak havoc again someday, no doubt.

We left, buoyed by our altruism and ingenuity, ready for the next perilous rescue to come our way.

Thankfully, my darling husband washed out the cooler.