Frankie got into a bit of a bind again.
It was warm outside but certainly not idea tortoise get-around weather. Best Frankie could do was bask some and do a small amount of grazing. Move around too much and the wind would get him cool. I was outside too and feeling the same as Frankie. I was fine in the sun but the wind could give me a chill. While Frankie was doing his bask, I was cleaning the truck.
I was keeping an eye on him but once I got vacuuming inside the truck I wasn't as watchful. When I finished vacuuming about thirty minutes later I stopped and went to check on Frankie. Since it was nearing 3:00 pm I figured he would be near the back gate ready to get inside and get to sleep. But he was not there.
I checked in his outdoor enclosure and no Frankie. I started a walk around the yard. First stop is his pile of leaves. A favorite place for Frankie to dig under. But he was not there. I continued around and saw no sign of Frankie. I even looked for signs of digging near the air condition unit. Where I failed to look was on top of the pile of stuff next to the air conditioning.
I guess Frankie was thinking to repeat his dig under the air conditioner but I had cleverly put cement blocks and boards and various object to block this activity. So Frankie tried another route - over the items. Regretfully, among the items blocking an excavation was the old nemesis: The Old Bale Of Wire.
I found Frankie once again tightly bundled within the bale of wire. To make things worse, a wire had made it around one of his legs and across part of his face. A potentially dangerous situation. Had Frankie been a horse, this would be disastrous as horses fight to the point they will cut themselves deeply. When Frankie found himself in ultimate danger he did the most prudent thing: wait for Mommy to save the day.
I, on the other hand, wisely call for The Husband to save the day. I cannot lift Frankie to safety but Greg can. Greg calls for a wire cutter to carefully move the wire from across Frankie's face. Once Frankie is free of the wire, Greg lifts him from the jaws of The Old Bale Of Wire.
Emotionally Frankie is devastated. Caught again by the evil Old Bale Of Wire. Foiled of a dig into security. Forced to be rescued again from the clutches of death. Ghastly scratches over his shell. Totally disgraced, Frankie walks the slowest I have ever seen him back home into the gecko room.
Frankie does not re-emerge from his comfortable pile of newspaper until late into the evening when I do my routine gecko room check. Poor Frankie gets a badly needed carrot and chin rub.
"Don't you fret about that mean old Bale Of Wire." I tell Frankie. "It goes to the recycling center first thing this week."