7 September—As I was on my way to Torrington on Labor Day, I came upon a turtle with a foot-long shell who appeared to be lost in the middle of Birge Park Road. Why was the turtle crossing the road? Probably for the same reason the chicken crossed the road: wild sex, what else? Not wanting the poor wight to be dispatched by a speeding automobile before he could make it to the side of the road and with the lady turtle of the moment, I stopped my car where I shouldn’t have, thus obstructing traffic.

I didn’t turn over the turtle to confirm it was a he, but we’ll assume that for convenience. Moreover, my knowledge of herpetology is rather superficial, so all big turtles look alike to me. As far as I’m concerned, they could be snakes with legs and carapaces and plastrons (top and bottom shells, to the rest of us). But, having heard about snapping turtles crossing roads for rumpy pumpy and who knows what else, and not wanting to risk this guy’s wrath, I took a walking stick out of the car to encourage Dannel (with apologies to the innocent turtle) on his way to safety and love. It hadn’t occurred to me that he wanted to do it his way.

Boy, am I glad I didn’t try to pick Dannel up. Because he was madder than hell. Too bad I didn’t have a shovel in the car to make the rescue easier. For both of us. As I pushed and prodded the stubborn cuss to the side of the road in the direction he had been headed, I wasn’t surprised at his lack of cooperation. Kind of like his namesake.

But wow! So that’s why they’re called snapping turtles. Incredible power in those jaws! And the snaps sounded every bit as intimidating as they looked. Talk about jaws. And what a neck! Even when I pulled the walking stick away from Dannel, he’d snap out his surprisingly long neck and go for it. My poor walking stick will never be the same. And Dannel’s claws also were impressive, to say the least; and they didn’t help matters by digging into the asphalt.

It took several minutes, but finally Dannel was on the grass verge, under the fence, and sauntering down the bank to what I hope was safety. And, of course, love. He didn’t thank me or even smile to show his appreciation. But at least he was out of danger. For the time being, anyway.

As for the traffic jam I caused, the drivers were unexpectedly patient. Even with the cars and trucks lined up in both directions, not a single horn honked, nobody shouted for me to get the hell out of the way. Could the spectators have been enjoying the show and hoping the turtle would clamp his jaws on the wizened old fart with the cane?

On my way home, I didn’t see Dannel’s flattened remains on the road, so I like to think I did my part to preserve his species. Even if he didn’t appreciate it . . .