Glendora was driving north on the main turnpike, and she was somewhere between Portland and Augusta. She saw the dead body of a groundhog on the shoulder of the highway of fast-moving automobiles. She knew the animal was dead, but she wanted it to lie in peace in its native habitat. She pulled over, procured a pair of sturdy gloves from the trunk of the car, picked up the body, and carried it down the embankment to the fence where the state property ended and private property began. She carefully laid the body into the brush of the woods beyond the mowed state property. The animal opened its eyes. He looked straight into Glendora’s eyes for at least 20 seconds. Then he started to crawl forward into the woods as best as he could, severely injured as he was.