She was waste-deep in goose poop and stagnant creek water. Her rubber waders were pulled up to her boobs. The pants were too big. She must've borrowed them from a taller brother or cousin.

A small canvas bag hung precariously off a nearby tree branch. Every now and then a light breeze would send it swinging gently. The words "Creekbed Nature Conservative" was stencilled on its side in blue lettering. A nametag was clipped to one of its handles but he couldn't read the print. It was turned away from him.

Her hair was tied back with a rubber band, the kind one removes from a newspaper delivered on weekday mornings back in the day.

A smudge of unmentionable slime slashed its way across her right cheek, skittered over the bridge of her nose, and dabbled the rest of its way above her brow and into her peach-fuzz hairline.

He'd been out sketching for the day. A rare crane had been spotted on the canal earlier in the month and Rhoads wanted to try and capture its likeness in charcoal. Instead of the crane, he'd found the rare bird in front of him.

Her hair was thick, ragging against its strained binding. Loose tendrils fell at the base of her hairline, growing darker at their roots.

The girl's skin was burnt on her exposed shoulders. Water dripped quickly from her half-sunken elbows.

A walnut pit birthmark kissed the spot behind her left earlobe.

Suddenly, the oblivious girl shrieked with joy. "Go, little guy, go!"

She clapped her wet hands.

Startled, the man almost dropped his charcoal stick. He cursed softly, but caught the delicate instrument before it dropped onto his about-finished portrait.

As his heart settled back into his chest, the man smiled. He glanced from his canvas to the girl's face. It was bathed in sunlight as she looked towards the Heavens in gratitude with her eyes closed.

The snapping turtle, another one of God's beautiful creatures, was on his way, swimming towards a long, bright future out in the wild.