Two years ago this weekend, my partner and I moved into our house. I decided to mark this momentous occasion by exploring the nearby trails, like I've been telling myself I would since we got the place.

Weather was a little warmer than I might have liked (got up to 82!) - but a nice breeze kicked up on occasion, which helped. I made the acquaintance of a few nice trees, another child-sized playground (more like an elaborate public swingset), and a turtle.

I'm sure many people will be surprised that I didn't meet a frog instead. I blame it on the fact that I wasn't at the office.

I don't know much about the maturation of turtles, but this one couldn't have been larger than a quarter. I found it partway across the bike path, looking baked. I picked him up, figuring that if he wasn't alive, at least I could spare him the indignity of having his corpse run over by a skateboard.

He wiggled feebly.

Yay! Not-dead turtle!

I navigated down to the nearby pond (not the direction he'd been facing - but he'd never find water going that way) and put him in amongst some vegetation. Within a minute or so he'd started wiggling more enthusiastically, occasionally putting his head under the water and blowing little bubbles.

So. I still don't know why the turtle tried to cross the road - but apparently he was just as happy on the first side.