I Bother a Snapper Turtle

Walking in the crisp early morning I met this Common Snapping Turtle (Chelydra serpentina) taking a break from a small man-made pond just a few yards from LaBarque Creek. I've seen a snapper twice as large, with much more algae on its shell, submerged in the LaBarque, and admired it for a long time as it patiently allowed fish to dart around its head, waiting and waiting for just the right moment to snap--waiting so long I thought maybe it didn't want me to watch, so I didn't stick around to see it. But that encounter let me know that our gentle creek is home to "snapper turtles," and I never step into the creek's deeper pools without first thinking of them.

As I back-and-forthed and circled around getting a good photo angle in the low-beamed early-morning sunlight, the turtle turned with me, facing me at all times.

Hunters are allowed to take Common Snapping Turtles during certain seasons, or if the snapper is causing damage to property (such as eating your goslings). How do you kill a snapper? I don't want to know.  The other Missouri snapper, the "Alligator Snapping Turtle" (Macrochelys temminckii), has a crenellated shell, with spikes sticking up, and it is endangered and protected by law.

Turtles in Search of Themselves

We're at the end of the month of turtle migration when the young ones leave the nest (hard to believe these creatures are hatched from eggs) and seek territories of their own. Their armor is beautifully articulated and bright. In the wet woods I almost step on them and we stop and gaze at each other, sharers of this earth. I meet them at the bottom of the lane, and in ditches full of rainwater and grass (pictured). Of course they cross the highway, leading to some casualties, but this year not so many; roadkill so far has been mostly raccoons. Once in a while on a walk I'm able to assist. As time has passed, they seem to be braver, less shy, less likely to duck or flee. Or maybe they only reflect how I've become more comfortable in my own skin. Or maybe they look at me and my skin, and believe I'm kin to them.

It's Not Easy

I stayed up very late, trying to sip the most from summer. Finally I got into pajamas and when I looked up through my west-facing window I saw a frog in space.

Never had I seen this before. No idea how it got there, why it stayed, what it wanted, unless to become a new constellation.

Missouri tree frogs come in green and gray. This one (Hyla cinerea) is green. It's not easy. Gray tree frogs have pure white undersides. I didn't know tree frogs clung to glass. Perhaps it was attracted by its own reflection. Or maybe it wanted to watch me undress!

My Love Life

Toads aren't often seen in broad daylight, especially just outside the gym, which is in a strip mall, so I figured this toad was looking and waiting specifically for me because he was an enchanted toad who with a kiss would turn into a handsome prince just my age, with no baggage, who shares my interests. I was game, why not, and bent down and said "Hello, little guy," and put my hand out so he could hop into it, but he hopped away, saying nothing. I tried a second time. He hopped again, toward the puddle of water in the parking lot. I pursued him with the camera. Finally he turned to me and said, "I'm a girl." She's a Bufo americanus americanus Holbrook, an Eastern American toad, found in every county in Missouri.

Oh, I said, disappointed.

That was Friday. On Saturday, clinging to the siding just outside my kitchen door making his annual appeal (often sticking to the kitchen screen door for several days), the Walking Stick appeared, trim and debonair as always, this time matching himself to the paint trim. Every year I politely refuse his proposal, telling him he's very attractive and a great guy but we are not a match.

On a Mission

Every morning this week I have said "Good morning" to this Three-Toed Box Turtle (Terrapene carolina triunguis) hangin' out beneath the bird feeder enjoying scattered birdseed. They prefer juicy food, like flies and cantaloupes, but our month-long drought left her world devoid of fruits and flying bugs, so she ate what was available. Early one morning I saw her crossing the lane toward the deep woods that cover the south-facing slope, her color matching some of the leaves already fallen, and I understood that she was fattening herself for a long sleep through the cold weather in a south-facing burrow she's now selecting or decorating. We humans do much the same, calling it football season, or good baking weather, or Oktoberfest. In case we aren't fat enough, we crawl out again in late November and call it Thanksgiving.

Fifty Shades Freed

Sat down with early-morning tea and saw tiny young hatchling (because his tail is blue) five-lined skink trapped in a web spun beneath the picnic table, and its spider approaching to suck his blood. Skink was so tightly wrapped and limp that I thought him dead already, and turned away because I didn't want to watch, but then I saw him wiggle. Breaking the web, I carried the skink outside and urged him to run and hide, but spiderwebbing had bound his back legs to his body, and the same with his tail, depriving him of his rudder and best weapon. He didn't move. I thought him dead again and was sorry I had interfered with the spider's meal. He was still so pretty I wanted to take his photo. Then he struggled: Alive!

Using a round toothpick I picked apart the webbing, cotton-candy sticky. I plucked it off his shivering whip of a body, and he ran. And he will never stay out past curfew again!

I'm Warty But I'm Not a Toad

I'm a Blanchard's Cricket Frog (Acris crepitans blanchardi Harper); you can tell by the garters around my thighs. Although I'm warty and tiny (never more than 1.5 inches long), I am a frog, not a toad. Between my back toes is webbing, and my skin is more slick than dry. I am beautifully painted and camouflaged, and today I modeled for a large ungainly land animal who spent 15 minutes sitting uncomfortably on rocks at the edge of LaBarque Creek and pointing a pink thing at me.

Me and my homies sing in chorus on spring and summer nights. The warmer it is, the more we sing. When approached, we jump into the water, but our favorite place is the shore, where we eat crawling insects. What else do you want to know?