Turtles in Search of Themselves

We're at the end of the month of turtle migration when the young ones leave the nest (hard to believe these creatures are hatched from eggs) and seek territories of their own. Their armor is beautifully articulated and bright. In the wet woods I almost step on them and we stop and gaze at each other, sharers of this earth. I meet them at the bottom of the lane, and in ditches full of rainwater and grass (pictured). Of course they cross the highway, leading to some casualties, but this year not so many; roadkill so far has been mostly raccoons. Once in a while on a walk I'm able to assist. As time has passed, they seem to be braver, less shy, less likely to duck or flee. Or maybe they only reflect how I've become more comfortable in my own skin. Or maybe they look at me and my skin, and believe I'm kin to them.