Turtle Migration

Young male box turtles now cross roads and highways to find their own new territories, and most drivers slalom over them, with here and there a driver pulling over, picking up the turtle and 1) placing it on the safe road shoulder opposite, where the turtle had been heading or 2) placing it in his vehicle and driving it away to a fate unknown. "They eat bugs in basements," somebody told me. Anyway, walking on Doc Sargent Road at 7 a.m. I met a small turtle I picked up, whose plastron seemed abraded and injured--not much, but some. I was surprised because I had thought the plastron was just plates ("scutes") of dead shell--but no. Both the plastron and the upper shell ("carapace") actually have blood and nerve supplies.

I learn something new every day. Turtles have red blood like ours. This injury did not look lethal, but for turtles run over, if they survive, there are people who will fix broken shells and rehabilitate them.

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.

Good Morning

Because daytime heat mounts quickly now, I hike the woods and meadows in the early morning, thinking I'm alone and apart from society, like Thoreau, but the fact is that company is everywhere. I politely said "Good morning" to this young and beautiful Three-toed Box Turtle at the woods' edge. Young, I guessed, because of its moist shiny shell, clear markings, and the fact that it wasn't scared of me.

They Can Stay Like This for Three Hours

Maybe because I don't watch TV or hang around children I'm slow to pick up on the latest vulgarisms, but "bumpin' the uglies" was the phrase that came to mind when I happened upon this scene between Three-Toed Box Turtles (Terrapene carolina triunguis) at Babler State Park, but in fact they're creating new life and that's of course a beautiful thing, and the male's immobile expression let me know it was a quite serious and intensely personal matter and I should take my photo and move along. Spring is the time for creating and laying new turtle eggs, preferably in a hole the female digs in deep leaf litter; the warm weather helps incubate them.

Because they are territorial, with one turtle per territory, they can find each other only if their territories overlap.

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.