It was about 30 feet from the front gate, off to the side of the gravel county road - rural but frequented by speeding trucks and ignorants up the dead end.
"Are you lost? This seems out of place for your kind?" I asked the turtle.
"Not sure," the turtle responded, its head barely out of his 6" shell.
"You'll die a bad death out here. There's no water either. Come to Apifera with me," I said and before it could respond I'd picked it up and he tucked his head and appendages in its little home. It was the most polite turtle I'd met and when we entered the Apifera gates I had many good choices where to rehome the fine turtle.
"Are you a girl?" I asked, fearing I might be taking it from eggs. It didn't answer. Perhaps that is a question turtles find offensive. They do after all spend a lot of time in a shell, so announcing what gender they are might feel invasive and dangerous.
"It's so convenient to have a portable house," I said. "I will put you here, near the marsh, far from the main road so if you wander you will still be on Apifera land."
Turtle sat there for some time and finally a head poked out.
"Marsh front, very nice," she said. I say 'she' here because I really sensed a feminine essence about her tone.
I haven't seen her since, but it sure was nice holding a turtle again. I'd had so many nice days as a child amongst the turtles in the Minnesota marshes.
