Turtle

Wonder what it would feel like.  A few evenings ago, I was sitting in my car waiting on my wife before we headed to a dinner with her artist friends.  The evening was getting started with a fresh breeze and the sunset fire-lighting horizontal streaks of clouds.  Admiring every available sunset is a permanent entry on my bucket list and part of my new found commitment to give some time each day to actually see the world surrounding me.

In the midst of my reverie, I glanced down and saw a baby turtle sort of hopping as it tried to work his way across my driveway.  From his eye view this expanse of concrete had to look like walking across the Sahara desert.  This young turtle’s back was about the size of a Kennedy Half Dollar but oval like a well-honed river rock.  All of the markings of a mature shell were already there – little squares and dots that ran around his elliptical back with four retractable legs, a tail and his head.

Turtles are thought to crawl steady and slow, one tedious step at a time.  But like a toddler toddling for his first tentative steps, this turtle had a little hop in his formative gait.  His progress was certainly slow – less than an inch covered with each step and seconds required for each successive move.  His line was straight and his eye was focused on the other side.  I looked for any sign of siblings or a parent but this little guy appeared to be alone.  He was testing his legs and earning his way but there was no way for me to know whether his motivation was fear or desire.

By the time we were ready to leave, he had reached a point about a quarter of the way across the concrete.  We simply could not leave him there.  He couldn’t yet know the danger of an enormous steel contraption with humongous rubber crushers.  So, I got out of the car and picked him up and quickly, gently placed him in the cool damp mulch among the grasses and shrubs.

We enjoyed our evening with friends – authentic food prepared by expert chefs and accompanied by Mexican beer with a slice of lime to honor Cinco de Mayo.  For part of the evening another husband and I were deep into discussion – no, not sports, sex or politics.  Occasionally men can discuss other subjects.  He holds a doctorate in microbiology and is deeply involved in working with genetics and in vitro fertilization.  For a subject that is so technical and complex, his explanations were word pictures that made the processes seem clear and approachable.  But it wasn’t the science or the process that seemed hard.  The ethical questions dominated and challenged us.  The unconsidered results of actions taken are decisions that affect outcomes of lives – lots of lives, known and unknown, directly and indirectly.

Back home I looked for the turtle because I couldn’t quit thinking about what might have happened to him.  In this small case, I had interceded and changed the course of life for one small turtle who was inexorably headed on a path that probably held promise and peril.  We all want to cure heinous illnesses and protect creatures from danger but what are the results that accompany such well-meant actions?

I couldn’t find the turtle whose path I’d altered.  Later as sleep was winning out, I wondered what it would feel like to be snatched from the security of the ground, into the air, if only for seconds and returned to an unfamiliar place.  This place might not have anyone I know and no one to guide or teach me.  It might have perils that neither instinct nor memory had prepared me to handle.

Neither the trek of the turtle nor genetic ethics were resolved on that Saturday night.  The turtle is on a modified path.  Unlocking the mysteries of our genes holds enormous promise to diminish the medical challenges many people face.  But each bit of progress drops someone unaware into a new place with new people and the need to find the way on a new path. 

--td