How to fix a turtle

AN ONTARIO CENTRE IS CHARTING NEW HORIZONS IN WILDLIFE REHABILITATION — ONE RECONSTRUCTED TURTLE AT A TIME

- LESLIE ANTHONY

EVEN AT 80 KM/H I RECOGNIZE the mossy, serrated dome on the pavement ahead. Braking carefully, I pull off and put on my hazard lights. Fortuitously, the snapping turtle is in my lane facing the shoulder; moving it off the road in the direction it’s headed shouldn’t be difficult.

As snapping turtles go, it’s medium-sized, shell length about 25 centimetres. Stopped and looking around, it appears spooked by the rumble of passing traffic. Or the alien nature of asphalt — another planet to an aquatic creature. I gently prod the animal’s rear in hope that it resumes progress. Instead, it pulls back its head with a hiss. Plan B: carry it across.

Unlike most turtles, whose scope of defence is firmly out front, snappers can extend a snake-like neck sideways to nip the unwary, so when I do pick it up, I stay behind, grasping the base of its tail with one hand while slipping my other hand beneath its belly. I place it on the sandy shoulder, which seems to feel familiar enough to the animal to flick a switch — it bolts down the embankment, splashing into the watery umbra of a cattail marsh.

Every year, thousands of turtles are hit by vehicles while crossing Ontario’s roads. And although this one might have made it safely across without intervention, the encounter is coincidental: occurring as I’m en route to a place of great fortune for its less fortunate brethren — the Ontario Turtle Conservation Centre.