Turtle Crossing

At the end of my run the other morning I saw a small turtle crossing the one major road in my subdivision; that is to say I think it was crossing but it was hard to tell because he wasn’t moving when I found him.  I remembered my grandson telling me two days earlier that he had just learned about turtles and tortoises in school.  With that in mind I thought it might be a good idea to take the turtle home, show it to Krischan and let him get a feel for what he had learned.

I set the turtle down on the driveway and went inside the house to tell Krischan I had a surprise for him and that ‘no, it’s not a toy, video game or Happy Meal.’  Being the good G-Pa that I am, I didn’t want him to have any false hopes or expectations, only to be disappointed because his surprise was merely a reptile--even if it was one that was breathing and ate bugs. 

Krischan rushed outside and judging from the look on his face the turtle was a better surprise than anything Mattel, Nintendo or Ronald McDonald had to offer.  ‘It’s a turtle!’ he screamed with the excitement of someone who had just stumbled upon the Fountain of Youth. 

I told Krischan that when I found the turtle he was wearing a blue mask and therefore must be Michelangelo, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.  He knew instantly I was lying because as ‘everyone knows Michelangelo wears an orange mask.’ Besides, ‘Leonardo wears a blue mask and is as big as a human!’  Yes sir, you have to wake up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on this kid. 

‘Did you know turtles live in water and tortoises live on land?’   Krischan looked at me waiting for my reply.  (Instinctively I knew that he knew I had no idea of the distinction between the two.  I warned you: You have to wake up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on this kid.) 

‘No, I didn’t,’ I replied.  ‘Where did you learn that?’ 

‘On ABCmouse.com,’ he replied.  His answer hit me on three levels: (1) He was using the internet for educational purposes. (2) He retained the information and was now relaying it to me.  (3) ‘Dot-com’ rolled off his tongue as easily as ‘chicken nuggets’ does when he orders a Happy Meal.  (Seriously?  The boy is only six years old!) 

We spent the next 30 minutes—or I should say Krischan spent the next 30 minutes telling me everything he knew about turtles, nature and why mushroom pizza would be a good idea for dinner later (‘because that’s what the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles eat!’).  I smiled pretty much the entire time, appreciating his interest in the subject matter as much as I did his concern for the well-being of his new reptilian friend.  Krischan placed several blades of grass and a tray of water in front of (‘Let’s see, I think I will name him…’) Spike. 

(I asked him where he got the name ‘Spike.’  Apparently the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles have a pet turtle—who knew?—named Spike.  Now you know.)

Around lunchtime Cindy took Krischan with her to the grocery store.  I was left behind to babysit Spike.  (Spike was in a cardboard box and all I had to do was make sure he didn’t climb or jump over the side.  Spike was four inches long and the side of the box was eight inches high, so I wasn’t too worried.  But I did check on him numerous times; just to be safe…and because I don’t spend a lot of time on ABCmouse.com and have very little recollection of anything I learned about biology while I was in school and in all sincerity don’t really know whether or not a four-inch turtle can climb or jump over an eight-inch wall.) 

When they got back Krischan couldn’t wait to tell me the news: He helped a much larger turtle on the same road where I found Spike climb over a curb so it could (presumably) make its way to the lake in our subdivision.  He showed me with his hands (held about 12 inches apart) how big the turtle was and said it was Spike’s mother.  I asked him how he knew and he said ‘I just do.’  I didn’t argue with him because as you may recall I know virtually nothing about biology.

After an afternoon of holding Spike, watching Spike crawl and making sure Spike didn’t get lodged behind the freezer in the garage, we turned our attention to deciding what would be in Spike’s best interest in the long run.  I told Krischan turtles enjoyed being around water and since there was a creek running alongside and behind our house it would be the perfect place to take him (if any of that was true, then consider it a lucky guess; I know nothing about biology.  Don’t make me tell you again.).

We walked down the hill to the creek.  Krischan set Spike down on the bank, about two inches from the water.  Spike hit the creek with a splash and immediately started paddling upstream (the creek originates from the lake, about one half-mile upstream from our house).  Krischan said Spike was going home to see his mom at the exact moment Spike climbed onto the bank on the opposite side of the stream.  Suddenly Krischan had a change of heart: ‘Go get Spike, G-Pa.’

Just about that time Spike jumped back in the water and started swimming downstream.  Krischan followed the turtle, running along the bank all the way up to where the creek funnels through a tunnel and continues on the other side.  Alas, the bank ended at the tunnel and at least for the time being Krischan had seen the last of Spike. 

I could see the sadness in Krischan’s face.  I tried my best to ease the pain. ‘Don’t worry; we’ll see Spike again someday.  He’ll be happy out here and I’m guessing his mom will be joining him here very soon.’

I walked back towards the house and after 20 paces or so I noticed Krischan wasn’t right behind me like he normally is when we take walks behind the house.  Instead he was standing in the exact same spot I had left him, still as a statue.  I called his name several times, each time louder than the next.  He didn’t budge, even after my tone had a hint of anger in it after a minute or so of calling to him.  I walked back over to Krischan and was about to grab his arm when I noticed the front of his shirt was soaking wet…from the tears he had been shedding since I walked away a couple of minutes earlier.  ‘I miss my friend,’ he sobbed.  His lips were quivering, his eyes were red and his nose was dripping almost as much as his eyes.  ‘I’ll never see my friend again.’

I was at a loss for words.  Almost, that is.

I reminded Krischan of the turtles’ role in nature (in my best ABCmouse.com voice) and how much happier Spike would be living in the creek behind our house: Spike’s Creek, we’d call it.  Krischan listened as I spoke, but clearly he wasn’t convinced as the tears continued to pour.  ‘You should feel good because Spike knows what you did for him was a good thing and for that he will always be your friend.’  Closer but still no cigar, although the tears were now slowing to a trickle.  ‘You will always be in his heart and he’ll always be your friend.  Always.’  At last; no more tears.  One more glance at Spike’s Creek and we walked back to the house, hand-in-hand.    

When Krischan’s mother came to pick him up later that day he couldn’t wait to tell her about Spike.  I couldn’t hear everything he told her, but I did notice his eyes were wide as saucers, he had a smile on his face the entire time and the last thing he said was something about Spike living in the creek behind the house. 

I may not know anything about biology, but I do know a little something about grandsons.