It was a fine afternoon for a bike ride on my favorite route, which transits hedgerow-bordered farm fields, woodlands and several wetlands. A long stretch of periodically rainy days had finally run its course, and the sun was breaking through departing clouds. White-throated sparrows sang from the marsh—Sam Peabody Peabody Peabody, warblers fluted from hedgerows and alder thickets, and flycatchers hunted insect hatches over the water. A fine day. But just down the quiet road ahead a snapper was in danger. An approaching pickup was moving very slowly—the first clue I had that something was up. As the truck passed I saw something large and dark ahead on verge of the opposite side of the road, just where I normally stop to enjoy the songs and sights of the wetland. I thought a beaver or porcupine had been struck by a vehicle, and dreaded finding an animal suffering a lingering death.

The reek of rot filled the air. Parking in my usual pull-off place, I could see that the dark shape was a very large snapping turtle, but until I approached it wasn’t clear if she was alive or dead. She moved. Was she injured? NO! She was very much alive and well, made clear by the way she lifted up on all fours and extended her head. I walked around to her side, wanting to check her all over for injuries, and she rotated to keep her head facing me. That was a very good sign. But now what? She was on the north side of the road, but facing the south. She was covered in a thick, wet coating of mud that steamed in the warming sun. The reek I’d smelled came from a large mound of mud and beaver sticks which road crews had removed from a grating placed across the mouth of a large culvert that permitted a stream to cross unhindered from one side to the other. Maybe the road crew had disturbed the snapper, and if so, then maybe she was disorientated. By this time Farwell had parked and joined me. We decided to move away and watch what she’d do, while at the same time keeping vehicles from hitting her.

After the snapper realized we were not posing a danger to her, she turned to face the opposite side of the road and began trundling onto the pavement. By this time, though, the afternoon commute was in full swing, and every couple of minutes a vehicle speeded past us. None of the drivers gave a thought to the threat they posed to the wildlife who lived in these wetlands, and some were talking on cell phones. The only way to insure the snapper got to where she was going was to give her a ride on the turtle taxi. Here’s how to lift a snapper so neither the turtle nor you gets hurt:

 

 
Some snappers are docile and readily accept a free ride, but others are less agreeable. This one was not so pleased to be bothered, but by firmly grasping her as shown in the drawings and keeping her low to the ground, Farwell quickly gave her a lift to the stream on the opposite side of the road.

 

 
I didn’t take photos of the air lift because I was spotting for motor vehicles. Once settled on the muddy stream bank, though, she immediately turned to be sure no further intrusions were coming her way and to smile for a portrait. Note those claws. They’re as large and sharp as iron spikes, and when she was lifted, she began to kick and snap. Heavy-duty work gloves would help avoid being scratched by a claw:

 

 
The scratch wasn’t deep or dirty, and a few squirts from a water bottle was all that was needed by way of first aid. If the time comes that you are helping a large snapper to safety, be prepared for the turtle to protest. Keep a firm grip, don’t drop the turtle, and keep the turtle away from your body. Even if the snapper is truculent in transport, she or he will be glad to find safety waiting on the other side. This snapper sure was, and after a couple minutes to assert her supremacy by keeping a wary eye open, she slipped happily into the stream and was immediately out of sight.

 

 
Snappers are formidable animals. This one was the size of a compact car’s spare tire, and almost as heavy. She was prepared to fend off an animal many times her size, and her strong beak and sharp claws could do damage to anyone who had the temerity to invade her personal space. But these admirable traits cannot protect her or her kin from the tons of metal, glass, and rubber that scream down roads which crisscross their territory. That’s why it’s so important to learn how to safely carry turtles to safety. Learn how to do it properly by reading “Helps Turtles Cross Roads.”

 
Have you saved a turtle from being hit by cars? Do you have a story or pictures to share? Just send us an email and we’ll publish your comments and turtle pictures in our “Turtle Portrait Gallery.” Let’s build the gallery so we have hundreds of portraits!

 

 
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