Turtle soup, anyone?

I have some turtle shells setting on a window sill near the front door of the pro-shop. I find them on the ground, especial along the bank of the creek, when I walk the playing fields. I don't dwell much on the life and death struggle that happened to produce the shell. Maybe a hawk or a raccoon found the insides of the shell to his liking. Eat or be eaten is pretty much how it works out in the wild. Maybe the turtle just died of old age. I don't think turtles shed their shell.

A Dad spotted the shells awhile back. He got a bit up in my shop manager's face about them. Seems he was pretty sure we were the cause of the turtle's demise. My daughter was so taken aback by the man's attitude that she was unable to clearly explain the shell's circumstances. He was set on his idea that it was tacky of us to display our trophy kills to the young players. I wonder what he would say to the collection of hawk and owl and goose feathers I have in my office?

Dealing day to day with different people can be an adventure. Maybe it was the tiny "For Rent" sign that bothered him. You can pick your friends but you can't always pick who is going to come walking through the door of your business. They say our nation's diversity is what makes us strong. I, on the other hand, find myself getting a bit tired and a little weary of the far left and far right. Patience, I suppose, is the key.