By Yvonne Vavra
Being stuck feels all kinds of terrible — you know it, you’ve been there. For much too long. So as we’re crawling out of this Corona-shaped hole back into life, you will understand the urgency I felt to give a helpful nudge to a turtle I came upon in Central Park Thursday afternoon.
I had been sitting on the lawn wedged between the 79th Street Transverse and the northern tip of Hernshead Lake, the last bit of open land before the Ramble swallows the sunlight. The rain had graciously given us an hour or two to dry, which is what I was doing, and not much more.
Suddenly, a hazy picture of struggle crept into the corner of my eye. There she was, a turtle, butt-stuck in a hole. She was bobbing around, trying desperately to get out it seemed. So this city kid went to get a stick, ignorantly thinking that nature needs my help. Just a little lift from under the butt, and the turtle would be able to take a walk on the wild side again.
Plotting to assault the turtle’s posterior, I did not deserve the beauty I was about to see. The turtle wiggled out a perfect little egg. I was both paralyzed by awe and ashamed for intruding. I had no business being part of this moment. I hope the turtle took it like a New Yorker — no privacy, whatta y’gonna do?!
So come peek with me, and bring some patience:
After seeing the second egg drop, I smiled all my good energy into the hole and went on my way. And as the rain began to fall down on me once more, my perfect moment of nature’s force was complete.
Welcome to New York, little future baby turtles! This city will never fail to amaze you, you’ll see.