Last weekend I ran over a turtle with my car when I arrived at the River House to work. It would appear to be a female snapping turtle and measured about 7 inches in length. I did not see the turtle nor did I realize I had driven over it. I only noticed it when I got out of my car and immediately felt sick to my stomach, not at the sight, but because I had caused the death of this wonderful creature. I suspect the turtle had come from the river in search of a place to bury her eggs. This only compounded my feelings of guilt. By the time I had completed my work for the day, all that remained of the turtle was its shell. I take a small measure of consolation knowing that the other wildlife we share our yard with gained nourishment from this tragedy. Over the course of my life, I have helped to save a handful of wayward turtles. I hope this history of compassion and care will help me to forgive myself.