Admittedly, I work with a rather odd lot on a day to day basis. The owners for starters, have a love-hate relationship with Rotton.com. If you have ever fallen into its web, you know what I mean. He loves it; she hates it. A president who sings snippets from Mary Tyler Moore while mashing sales numbers and the general masses who share in a round of soap opera drama where the real life episodes should be nominated for day time teevee awards. I suppose that's why I fit in so well. Deep down, under the crusty exteriors of warehouse managers and time clock punchers assuredly, are smiling hearts of gold.

The other day, while wading thorough the most recent shipment of Christmas ornaments and glut of artificial trees, one of my associates made a rescue. No, it was not stuff for Real TV. There was no blood, no eminent danger, and no video cameras were rolling. In our business where the cute factor is usually greeted with cooos and ahhhhs, this rescued critter was no exception. There in her hand, no larger than a quarter, was a newly hatched box turtle that had wandered unaware among the cardboard landscape. So perfectly tiny, even the little nails on his green-black feet were all pint sized. Until that moment, it had not occurred to me that I had never seen a wild baby turtle before. Not unlike baby pigeons: I know they exist, but I have never seen them. Sure, baby sea turtles are in the spotlight all the time (forgive my poor choice of reference) but I had never come across a baby box. Not since my childhood aquarium of red eared sliders, Yurtle and Murtle, had I played with such a miniature replication of life.

We paired him up with our fearless leader who had just rescued a nest of turtle eggs from the middle of his dirt road but fears none of them are going to hatch. It simply made his day, and he was like a kid with a new pet. Now safe and sound in his own little habitat, our baby box will be tended until he is large enough to take on the pond's resident algae-coated alligator snapper and Stumpy, a monstrous three legged slider. If he is fortunate enough to make a good home for himself and realize that a speeding car will always win the race, he'll surely outlive us all.

Gail Boysen is a regular contributor to Get Lost Magazine. She and Dave McBee are fast becoming weird wildlife specialists on our staff.