Flirting Turtle

An earlier posting this summer was a tale of a painted turtle that appeared in our garden at home. Turtles, of course, come in many sizes and varieties. Our summer cottage lake is home to two kinds that we know of. These are the painted turtle and the snapper.

The painted is seen on logs by the water’s edge as we canoe by . They can vary in length from a few inches to about one foot if one takes the neck, shell and tail into consideration. We seem to have three generations of snapping turtles that appear under the surface of the water or peaking above it near our docks. One is a little more than one foot in length, another almost two feet, and the elder is a good three feet or more from head to tail.

Whereas, as the name suggests, the painted turtle is pretty to look at, the snappers, on the other hand are gnarled and worn and ominous. They have large feet and claws and, when outstretched, very long necks. The shell of the largest itself is at least two feet from tip to toe.

Guests are always intrigued by the size of the snapper, and somewhat intimidated. We always assure them that these remnants of an antediluvian epoch are more afraid of us than we should be of them. But do not corner them or you are sure to lose a finger or toe or even a hand or foot. Regardless, the lake is big enough for all to survive happily together. Indeed, my partner is wont to talk sweetly to these creatures as they surface near the dock from time to time.

That was our story for the past thirty summers until recently when we were putting our dock to bed for the approaching winter season. We do this annual ritual by disconnecting our dock from its attachment to the shore and then floating it into a quiet and sheltered bay. My partner and I must stand up to our waists on either side of the short bridge that holds the dock in place. We next remove the lynch pins and piping that secure the dock and flip the bridge back onto the land.

We were just beginning this exercise when a base shriek came from my partner’s side of the dock. I watched in amazement as he jumped clear out of the water and onto the rocks - a considerable feat for a man in his 70s. The large snapper had nudged his leg with the butt of his head! But upon witnessing the ensuing commotion, it had departed abruptly into the deep – or so we thought.

Back into the water we went when I felt a distinct pressure on my right foot. Looking down, I saw this large clawed foot resting on top of mine and the adjacent face of the turtle. A shriek of a similar nature was emitted from my side of the dock and I was quickly elevated to dry land. But the creature did not flee. It stayed there grinning up at me from the deep for a while, before slipping into the darkness of the deep.

Now were these possibly merely pats of friendship from one alien creature to another, or was it perhaps testing the possibility of digestion? I might hope to never find out.