Turtles can be their own worst enemy

Encounters with turtles have started to accumulate.

From a distance a couple of weeks ago I saw this mottled green thing hustling down the driveway; it resembled a wobbly football. Walking closer I realized it was a turtle.

Two days ago Ernie sniffed out the same guy in the outback pondering his inability to fit his shell through the neighbors welded wire horse fence.

And this morning that same tortoise – or a body double – returned to the driveway to cool himself in a puddle left from our unseasonable, interminable rain.

Coincidentally, this afternoon I saw a newbie turtle at the top of the driveway. At first I thought it was a dark, flat stone. Picking it up I saw a tightly withdrawn face the width of my pinky finger. I placed junior a couple feet into underbrush.

Where these guys live is a frequent, recurring thought.

Their home is simply the shell on their back, like an aimless RV. What distances do they travel?

Turtles remain a mystery because they are encountered so infrequently: out of sight, out of mind. I need to DuckDuckGo them.

The best I can do for now is to keep an eye out, especially in season: March and April. This year I saved three from becoming road kill by stopping and picking them up from where they often misguidedly hunker down: smack dab in the middle of the road.  I carefully placed each one in an adjacent field. Their natural carapace is good protection, but is no match for tons of steel hurtling down country lanes.

Maybe next year I will have a few highway signs made alerting unsuspecting drivers of their presence.

Would TX DOT mind?.