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MALVERN DAILY RECORD (Arkansas) 16 April 05 Death in the afternoon (Sean Rock)
I knew it when I topped the hill. That black dot on the highway was as familiar as the highway itself.
"A red-eared slider," I said aloud, although there was no one in the truck with me. I was traveling down highway 67, Tuesday afternoon, on my way to Harmony Grove for a Poyen Lady Indians softball game. The turtle crossing the road would delay my arrival, slightly. Over the years, I'd become adept and rather quick at removing turtles from busy highways. It's something I began doing at an early age. As soon as I was old enough to understand that turtle shells were designed to protect against natural predators, not two ton blocks of metal moving at 60 mph.
My parents were always good about stopping and allowing me to clear turtles from our path. My uncles, on the other hand, were notorious for swerving to hit turtles trying to cross the road. It was a joke to them. (Karma is a cruel and often ironic mistress, Uncle J. I'd be careful crossing the road, if I were you.)
Every year about this time, since I was a kid, I'm surprised the first time I spot my first turtle of the year. Unfortunately, for every live turtle you see crossing the road, there's a dozen broken shells littering the roadside...casualties of man's encroachment on nature and his outright careless ignorance when getting from one place to another. Sometimes, as with my uncles, it's a case of being just plain mean.
Upon spotting the turtle in the middle of highway 67, I slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder, holding my breath as I checked the rear view mirror to see if the passing traffic was as conscientious as I was.
The turtle was still there, in one piece, scurrying to cross the pavement. I watched as a semi swerved to avoid the creature, as did an SUV - both driven by decent folks, no doubt.
I whipped my truck around and drove back to where the turtle was crossing the highway, all the while knowing I'd be late for the game, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
I pulled over on the shoulder and waited as another driver dodged to miss the turtle. I glanced once more into the mirror to see the turtle just a few feet from clearing the road. Then, along came someone in a dirty, brown Ford Ranger, who deliberately cut his wheel and swerved to hit the turtle.
I sat there disgusted, watching the turtle's broken body flail helplessly for about thirty seconds. Then it stopped. All that remained were pieces of bloody flesh and broken shell.
My heart sank as I drove on to Harmony Grove for the ball game.
To the guy in the dirty, brown Ford Ranger: Be careful crossing the road, fella. Karma's a cruel mistress.
Death in the afternoon

..from the late great Archie Carr: "Let's hope they skid!!!!"