Harbingers of death

You may remember the baby birds of last summer. Or the bunnies of the summer prior. If you don't, I'll cut right to the chase: Hubs and I have a nasty way of inadvertently tearing apart animal families while trying - and failing miserably - to be helpful.

This year the tradition continues. With a turtle.

Out on a family walk, we passed a turtle who appeared to be stuck in a very random patch of mud. It was kicking its back legs but wasn't getting anywhere. I pointed it out to Hubs, instructing "Help that turtle! It's stuck!"

"I'm not sure we should..."

"HUBS! Help it! It needs help!"

He seemed hesitant, but then lifted the turtle out of the mud for relocation. At which time he noticed the eggs she was working on burying.

"She's burying her eggs," he said sadly. "I had a suspicion that's what she was doing."

"WHAT? What? What do you mean? You did? I didn't even know turtles lay eggs!"

He nodded regretfully. "They do."

"Oh no! Oh no! Put her back! Put her back in the mud!"

Hubs shook his head. "I think it's too late..."

"No, no! It's not too late. Put her back!"

He tried to place the turtle back in the mud, but she ran (okay, she crawled - painfully slowly) back toward the pond we were walking past.

"Try it again!" I insisted.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh, no! No, try again Hubs! Put her back and we'll hurry up and walk away and she'll realize she doesn't have to be scared of us!"

Hubs stood firm. "No, I'm just going to leave her alone now."

"Well, maybe we should cover up the eggs for her? That way when she comes back they'll be safely buried?"

Hubs was already pushing the stroller along the trail ahead of me. "I think we've probably done enough."

"Aw, crap. Why does this always happen to us?"

"I think it's usually your fault."

"Yeah. I need to start watching The Animal Planet."

"It's just Animal Planet. Not The Animal Planet."

"Really?"

"Obviously you have a lot to learn."