Why did the turtle cross the road?

I expect to see an occasional turtle crossing a road in May, June or early July. This morning I watched a medium size snapping turtle clamber from a gravel road onto the grassy shoulder. I have no idea what’s going on, unless the return of our drought dried up the turtle’s home pond. Then again, in looking at the drought report, I don’t understand how we can be almost half an inch above normal precipitation for the year and still be in a moderate drought in the southern half of the county. We’ll just add that to the long and growing list of things I don’t understand.

late May: painted turtle crossing road

Photo by J. Harrington

From the reports thus far, I’ve not noticed any real surprises or upsets in yesterday’s primary. We now get beleaguered for the next three months or so with stupid commercials and annoying duns to contribute to the cause. Meanwhile, we live in anxiety that, come November, the crazies may somehow prevail and, if they don’t, will spend the next two to four year election cycle screaming about “stolen” elections. There’s gotta be a better way to do politics.

Meanwhile, I’m delighted to see no 90℉ temperatures in the extended weather forecast. I may run out of excuses for avoiding doing outside chores, if I can get over feeling enervated. All of the craziness in the world is making it hard for me to get motivated. Are you having a similar problem? I think it may be a variant on solastalgia, with the term natural environment having the broadest possible applicability. Maybe that turtle this morning is as confused as many of us.

Turtle

By Kay Ryan

Who would be a turtle who could help it?

A barely mobile hard roll, a four-oared helmet,

she can ill afford the chances she must take

in rowing toward the grasses that she eats.

Her track is graceless, like dragging

a packing-case places, and almost any slope

defeats her modest hopes. Even being practical,

she's often stuck up to the axle on her way

to something edible. With everything optimal,

she skirts the ditch which would convert

her shell into a serving dish. She lives

below luck-level, never imagining some lottery

will change her load of pottery to wings.

Her only levity is patience,

the sport of truly chastened things.

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