Tail?
My wife called me at work today, at noon, to tell me there was a snapping turtle in the yard, and could I do anything about it?
"OK, hon, don't fret. Let me close up the shop and I'll be right there..."
"You know," she went on, "if we let it stay, it'll tear everything up!"
"OK," I
say, "I'm on my way."
Ten minutes later, I pull in the driveway, she is standing in the front yard, protectively holding our youngest cat, and I see the neighborhood kids running around gleefully having the time of their lives. The monster had crossed the street and was, I'm sure, trying to get away from the four 6 to 12 years olds who were simultaneously fascinated and terrorized by this throwback of evolution.
He was a big one! The shell was about 14 inches wide and maybe 20 inches long. I tapped him a few times on the back with a stick I had brought along, to get his attention. "Whaddya got here boys?" I quizzed, and before they could answer, I stuck the end of the stick about a hands-length away from the turtles business end. "THWACK!" with lightning speed, he made a strike, causing much ooohhhing and aawwing from the older of the boys, and a wet spot on the younger one's shorts.
"You gonna kill 'im, Mr. Pratt?"
"Naw, I thought I'd maybe take him back down to my shop. There's a good patch of woods next door, and he'll get along OK there, I reckon." And with that, I got behind the bastard and grabbed him up on either edge of his shell, towards the rear of course, and pitched him into the 914 trunk. The front one.
And that, friends, is how I ruined the fun of four young innocents today, so that they may still count their ten blessings on their fingers tommorrow.
Ed