Turtle Rescue!!

I have to being this entry with a little note about me and outdoor/woodland/swamp creatures...I'm not a huge fan. Oh sure, the occasional bunny or squirrel is fine, but my greatest fear about being mommy to a real "boy's boy" is the day when he starts bringing me frogs and lizards in his pocket, which everyone assures me is going to happen soon.

Well, it's kind of begun, but thank heavens I'm getting broke in easily.

Last night was the 2nd Florida native box turtle rescue missions we've been on in the last few weeks. Somehow, from somewhere, turtles are making their way into our (fenced) backyard.

This one was discovered by our trusty chihuahua watchdog, Rocco, and I quickly ran to it's rescue.
And then made hubby come pick it up. I think my exact words were "Rocco, no!" followed quickly (and loudly, as he was inside cooking dinner, the peach) by "Babyyyyy!!!! There's another tuuurtllle!!!!!!"

and he valiantly came to my rescue, as always. He then, not so valiantly, suggested to Monkey Boy that he and mommy should take the turtle out to the park where we had two weeks prior, released his brother back into the "wild". Great. Lovely. Monkey Boy was all about it and ran to fetch the turtle bucket.

Yes. I realize that my being afraid of a harmless box turtle is a bit ridiculous. I'm also paralyzed with fear by "harmless" tree frogs and the tiny little lizards that abound in Florida. I didn't say it was rational fear...eesh. It is fear, nonetheless, and it extends to a myriad of creatures with tiny little feet, not just those of the amphibian type. And turtles? Well, turtles are...they're just turtles, and I'm less equipped to explain the precise reasoning with the whole turtle thing. They're just well, ew. Oh well.

I'm reminded (by my own little version of Jiminy Cricket) that chances are, if you let your kid see every shining example of irrational fear and squeamishness that you possess, you are most likely going to end up with an irrationally frightened, squeamish kid, which of course, I don't want. So, I put on my big girl panties and off we go, turtle in bucket, to the Indian Mounds to give little pokey a new chance at life in a protected patch of forest with a pond.

Yes, this is me - fearful me, holding the turtle, just to show Monkey that he's harmless. Ew ew ew. Yes, I had palpatations, but managed to survive.

I just knew that pokey was a rabid turtle, about to go insane and turtle-bite-peck MM and I to death. I just knew it, and was ready to get him out of my hands and onto the ground quickly and without incident. Well, except for the quick photo op...if I didn't have evidence, would anyone have believed I picked him up? Hmm? Would you?

As luck would have it, (um, yeah, real lucky) there were mosquitoes the size of sparrows out and about at the Indian Mounds last night and we were really getting eaten alive by them, so we placed pokey down gently in the forest and hightailed it out of there.

He looks happy, right?

*No animals were harmed in the aforementioned adventure or the posting of this blog. I realize that it also has nothing to do with love, kneading, or any sort of culinary adventure. Sawwy. It's hard for me to follow even my own rules.*