There, in the middle of the road, was a gargantuan snapping turtle holding the road hostage. Every spring, during April, the same female snapping turtle emerged from the muck to lay eggs in the backyard. This Algonquian folklore saga has been titled, “When Snapping Turtle Went to War,” or “Snapping Turtle on the Warpath. As we crossed the bridge, I glanced over the railing, looking for the predacious snapping turtle in the waters below. I think of that phantom snapping turtle from time to time and I can’t help but smile knowing that the experience has made my life richer.