Truth to tell, there are days when I just want to do…nothing. Not nothing at all, mind. Just nothing that raises a sweat. I don’t want to cycle. I don’t want to paddle. I don’t want to hike. I just want to sit quietly with a good book, or maybe watch a movie, or sketch one of the many birds that come to my office window.

Still, those days are few and far between, and even when the stay-at-home bug is biting hardest, I’ll often kit up and cycle off round the block, just to keep the blood flowing. Since the “block” in question is about 20 miles around, that’s a pretty good ride in itself. And anyway, I usually feel a surge of energy with the first spin of the crank. There are fringe benefits, too. Now that the days are long and the sun is high, I often see turtles or other creatures in the road. And sometimes I can shepherd them safely across. Much more often, of course, I arrive on the scene too late to do anything more than move an already stiffening body off the asphalt and onto the grass. This makes it a little less likely that the scavengers who’ll soon be drawn to the corpse—vultures, crows, foxes, raccoons, and the like—will also end their days crushed under the wheels of a speeding car.

Needless to say, I don’t much enjoy the role of mortuary attendant. If nothing else, it reminds me how vulnerable I am, perched on a spindly framework of steel tubes as two-ton vehicles muscle past me at three or four times my speed, while their drivers conduct animated “conversations” by text message, darting only occasional glances at the road ahead.

But then, just as these melancholy reflections are about to chase all the joy from my day, a ray of sunlight breaks through the lowering cloud. As it did only last week, when I got an e-mail from Contributing Photographer Pat McKay, reporting the first turtle save of his (and my) year:

I swear the skies were blue when I left the house to go on my bike ride, but then about nine miles into the ride... No, I got caught, but at least I was able to get this little box turtle off the road before the storm reached me.

A welcome piece of good news, indeed. Thanks, Pat!

A reminder: If you spend much time on the road, and if you’d like to lend a hand when you see a turtle in trouble, but you’re not entirely sure how to do it safely, just check out the resources listed below. And while you’re at it, print out our “Quick Guide for Turtle Taxis” and carry it with you whenever you venture out. Better yet, make a dozen copies or so and hand them round to all your like-minded friends. Turtle or cyclist, life can be hard for those of us in the slow lane. A little help really can make all the difference.

Further Reading

• • “Become a Turtle Taxi”
• • “A Printable Quick Guide for Turtle Taxis”
• • “Find a Wildlife Rehabilitator”
• • “New York Center for Turtle Rehabilitation and Conservation, Inc.”
• • “Turtle Portrait Gallery’”

Questions? Comments? Just click here!

By fits and starts, spring is making its way north to the Adirondacks. The first trilliums are pushing their heads up through the woodland duff, white-throated sparrows are returning to join robins and red-winged blackbirds at household feeders, and the ice is all but gone on most local ponds. But it’s still too cold in the mountains to entice snakes and turtles to venture out and about. That’s not the case in more temperate climes, however, and I’m happy to report the first Turtle Taxi rescue of the year. And who is the good samaritan? None other than a frequent Outside contributor, cyclist and photographer Pat McKay. Here’s his account:

[Last Wednesday] marked the first turtle rescue of the year for me. It seems that every spring its always a snapping turtle, not a docile little box turtle, that I find sunning itself in the middle of the road. The box turtles tend to show up around here when it is a little bit warmer. Isn’t this a great face though? And I’ve still got all 10 fingers!

And here are two photos Pat took of the snapper before he carried her to safety:

Thanks, Pat, for giving this grande dame a helping hand! And if you’re wondering what you can do when you see a surly snapper (or even a bashful box turtle) who’s about to venture out into harm’s way, you’ve come to just the right place. First, read “Become a Turtle Taxi.” Then print out our Quick Guide and carry it with you whenever you head down the road. Somewhere there’s a turtle who’ll have good reason to be glad you did.

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The press of work and a stiff wind made me less than enthusiastic about taking a spin on my bike. But I’d reached an impasse in the article I was working on. Cycling always clears my mind, so I figured that a couple of hours away from my desk would help me unblock the recalcitrant narrative line. Besides, I needed the exercise, even if I was already pretty tired. So I saddled up and headed out for a circuit on my favorite 20-mile loop. I was right to think that I’d feel better once I was underway, and I felt even better half an hour later when I rounded a bend to find a painted turtle hunkered down in the road.

I’d just been passed by several speeding cars, and at first I thought that I’d arrive on the scene too late—that the turtle had been struck. But I stopped anyway and was happy to see that the turtle was alive and well, even if she had withdrawn into her shell.

Ducking into a hard shell is a wonderful defensive strategy when a hungry coyote is sniffing about, but it does little to protect a turtle from a couple of tons of hurtling metal and glass. So, to make doubly sure that the turtle was unscathed, I lifted her from the pavement and gave her a once-over. That’s when I noticed the pair of fat leeches clinging to her carapace.

It only took a minute to flick the two hitchhikers off their host with a stick. (The turtle seemed none the worse for having giving them a free ride—and probably a free lunch, into the bargain.) Then I carried the endangered traveler well off the road and put her down near the edge of a boggy woods—this was where she’d been heading—before wishing her well and continuing on my ride.

A bit later, my circuit took me back to the stretch of road where I’d spotted the turtle. There was no sign of her, and for that I was glad. Any day when you can give a turtle a lift in your “taxi” is a good day as far as I’m concerned. And what about that blocked narrative line? No problem. When I got back from my ride I breezed through the rest of the article. Seems as if cycling is good for whatever ails you, especially when a ride puts you on the scene to lend a helping hand to a needy traveler.

 
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