Posts Tagged ‘paddle’

I am not a very direct person, at least not when I drive.  Where others would draw the straightest lines between point A and B, I prefer to draw the meandering line that stops by rivers, creeks, waterfalls, weird sights and cool little towns.  When I work in Indian River School District, the possibilities are endless.  Usually I take a route that takes me by three waterfalls and dewatered stretch of the Indian that looks pretty interesting.

It was on one of these “excursions” that I met my new friend.  Really our introduction was all due to him, as he was basking in the middle of a road.  My new friend, whom I’ve decided to name, “Franklin” (those of you who are Arrested Development fans will now where that came from), was a heavy weight snapping turtle, and a grumpy one at that.

franklin the angry snapping turtle

Being the crunchy guy that I am, I couldn’t let Franklin sit there in the middle of the road.  It’s clear that he didn’t fully understand the severity of the predicament he was in.

So I said, “Franklin, you really should get off the road.  Cars come through here all the time.”

“You get off the road, hippie,” snarled Franklin, “I’ll take you and any car that tries to come down this road!”

Obviously, diplomacy was beginning to break down.  I briefly considered going “Crocodile Hunter” on Franklin and grab his shell from behind and wrestle him off the road to safety.  But then I remembered that the Crocodile Hunter is dead because of stuff like that, so another means would have to do.  Luckily, I still had my guide paddle in my jeep, and it seemed that it would make a great turtle spatula.

Franklin & The Paddle

Of course Franklin was against this idea, but then again, he shoots down anything I say.  So without his blessing, I went about wedging the paddle under Franklin.

“I’LL RIP YOUR FACE OFF! I’LL KILL YOU I WILL!” laughed Franklin.  It is very fortunate that I bought a heavy-duty guide stick, because snapping turtles have earned their moniker.  Several times Franklin lashed out at the blade, putting gouges in the hard plastic.  I think it really has to do with never knowing his father, but when ever I bring it up Franklin just withdraws into his hard shell (both figuratively and literally).  But in the end the turtle spatula won the day, and I safely deposited Franklin back in his semi-natural habitat.

“Thanks a million, Daniel,” hissed Franklin, “I was on a path leading to self-destruction.  But now I can get my life back on the right track!”

“Good-bye, Franklin!” I called back.  But Franklin wasn’t listening.  He spied a brood of muskrat babies and took off in hot pursuit.

That Franklin, what a guy!