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JOURNAL CONSTITUTION (Atlanta, Georgia) 28 April 08 Do you brake for snapping turtles? (Susan Gast)
Our mission on Sunday was to travel to Columbus, pick up my 83-year-old mom and then drive her to north Alabama to spend time with her newest great-grandchild.
I was driving her green Mercury Grand Marquis, traveling north on U.S. 280, a four-lane highway. My husband was following in our car so we could return to Gwinnett County Sunday night.
Just over a rise in the road near Harpersville, Ala., I saw a turtle - a BIG turtle. He was plodding across the first of two northbound lanes.
“Oh no! Someone’s going to hit him,” I said as I passed and then checked out the rear-view mirror.
“Should I stop? Should I go back? Where could I pull off? Was it too dangerous? Should I keep going?”
My thoughts raced, unlike the turtle, which miraculously had just been missed by a large pickup.
With my mother’s encouragement, I turned back at the next median break and again saw the turtle, with its moss-covered shell. He had reversed directions and was back in the median but almost ready to cross the two southbound lanes.
There was nowhere to safely pull off the side of the road — the emergency lanes were quite stingy.
I turned the car around again at the next median break, steered it off the road into the median and got out. Immediately I knew I had a job ahead. This was no little turtle that could easily be picked up and deposited across the road. This was a snapping turtle, more than a foot long, almost that wide, and he was glaring at me.
I pulled off my jacket and tried to use it to grab the turtle from the rear. It lunged; its mouth snapped, I screamed and let it go.
Luckily, my husband, who had seen me turn back and is familiar with my antics, had circled back and parked behind where my mother sat watching with interest. He got out and, using a pillowcase, tried to grab the critter. The turtle liked my husband no better than me, lunging and snapping, even hissing.
Some cars slowed, and one stopped, the driver marveling at the size of the creature.
“He’s a monster,” he said. “Never seen anything like him.”
Other cars whizzed by.
Finally, my husband was able to get a grip from behind and carried the hefty, unhappy turtle across the southbound lanes. He had to contend with claws on the reptile’s spinning hind legs, but he maneuvered the creature way down a steep incline.
We choose to think that the turtle had had enough of the highway and being manhandled and didn’t repeat his stunt. We choose to think he’s back and happy in turtledom.
We know what we did was not smart. Our bodies or our cars (including the one in which my mom waited, thoroughly entertained) could have been hit - even though they were off the roadway. Other drivers could have been distracted.
On the other hand, none of that happened, and we (hopefully) were able to help.
http://www.ajc.com/metro/content/shared-blogs/ajc/snellvilletalk/entries/2008/04/28/do_you_stop_for.html