Tuttle tuttle

Tuesday morning, while driving home after dropping Grayson at school, I spotted this handsome fellow watching me from the curb. Neck stretched out, chewing on clover, clearly considering making the crossing.

Well, of course I scooped him up and brought him home.

Now, I KNOW I shouldn't remove turtles from the wild. They live a long long time and have special health requirements (special lights, calcium needs, a place to burrow, etc.). But I promised him we would return him to the very spot I found him, we just wanted him to visit for a couple of days.

He's awfully charming. A bit skittish,understandably. But not really afraid. He's very strong... really pushes against your hands when you pick him up, and can get around quite nimbly. Grayson is completely captivated by him.

I sent his photo to our curator of reptiles, Laurie Vitt, to see if he could give me an idea of how old he is. He's quite large for a box turtle, so I'm guessing he's pretty mature. Five or ten? Likely he's as old as Grayson, it seems to me.

There's something so appealing about his wizened old face and slow gaze. I have been feeding him clover and chopped veggies and mealworms, watching him munch eagerly, yet slowly, with his sharp beaked mouth. He looks at everything carefully before he ingests it. We've been calling him Tuttle tuttle.

Of course I'm tempted to dig an enclosure for him in the back yard. I will resist. The world is full of animals, including turtles, that don't need my protection. Clearly this old fellow has made his way in life all by himself for some time now. His shell is worn and scarred. What other creature shows its life's trials and hardships so clearly on its body? A turtle's school of hard knocks is written there for everyone to see. He's tough enough to survive in an semi-urban environment, he deserves to get to go home after this visit.

We'll enjoy his company for one more day, though.