How great is Kansas?

Lunchtime, I find a turtle. Yellow spears mark an olive green back of the Kansas state reptile. My son is excited as I am. This little girl (I learned how to sex them at last years' Allen County turtle race) is unusual. We lift her to the air, she comes out of her shell. We place her down on dark, damp earth, she cringes deep inside. Up, out, down, in. We repeat the process to only my amusement. McT wants to cover her in leaves, give her a bowl of water, wants to know what she eats. We set her down, I return to pruning the wisteria, gone wild in 90 degree heat. McT peers at a dun-shelled snail. The turtle disappears. He calls and calls, "Turtle! Turtle!" Reticent, she does not answer. We nudge aside shrubbery and wilting tiger lilies to try to find our vanished friend. Ah! Under steeples of green, amidst dead leaves mimicking her shell, sits the turtle. Satisfied, he's off, and I back to my pruning go. Kansas lunch time. Who knew?