Farm Fresh: The Snapper Connection

Posted by: Cheryl Kimball

Tagged in: wildlife

Cheryl Kimball

 

 

You're driving along and you see a lump ahead in the road that looks a lot like a big rock. But it's moving, almost imperceptibly. It's a snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina to be exact) . Cars are dodging the lump but you worry someone just isn't going to see it. What do you do? My vote is to assist the snapper (or any turtle) if you can. But here are three things to consider:

1) Your own safety. Don't attempt an assist if the situation puts you in imminent danger. Not only is your personal safety simply important, but you won't be helping any other snappers if you end up an HBC (hit-by-car), as we say in the vet tech world. 

2) Again, your own safety--snappers are called snappers for a reason! They have powerful jaws and use them to protect themselves. They do not know that cars are life threatening or that you are trying to help them. While the idea that they would bite your finger off is apparently a myth, their bite is nonetheless nasty. And reptiles all carry salmonella bacteria, which doesn't harm them but, as anyone who keeps reptiles as pets knows, it is important to wash your hands after touching them--another reason not to pick up a turtle crossing the road with your bare hands. I carry a plastic retractable shovel in my vehicle that I use in winter if I need to get unstuck and in summer to help a snapper across the road if the situation calls for quick action. If the spot in the road is relatively safe--low speed limit, other cars can readily see you, other cars have already stopped--you can easily herd a snapping turtle just by walking a safe distance behind it. This is fun to watch--snapping turtles walk by raising themselves up almost on their tiptoes, sweeping each pudgy leg sideways before moving it forward. And they can move remarkably fast this way! It won't take long for the turtle to be on the other side.

3) Be sure you know which direction the turtle wants to go. If you are not sure--and the conditions in both 1 and 2 above are met--let the turtle show you. Give it a chance to move so you can see which side of the road it was headed toward. If you move it to the side it came from, it will just turn around as soon as it feels it is safe to do that. And you will not have accomplished your goal of helping the turtle get safely to the other side.

Why does a snapper cross the road? Most likely she is moving to her summer swimming hole.  Maybe he just needs a vacation. Females even lay eggs on the side of the road where the sand is often just right and the soil gets lots of sun for good incubation for the 12 weeks it takes for the babies to hatch.

Whatever the reason, turtles--snappers and other species--are on the move this time of year. Last week I saw one on the opposite side of Rte 393 as I was going into Concord. I flashed my lights at oncoming traffic across the median hoping they would slow down. This turtle was pretty big so thankfully anyone who noticed him would want to avoid hitting him. I didn't notice him smushed on my way out of Concord later that evening, so hopefully he made it. 

Earlier this week on a winding back road between New Hampshire and Maine, I came around a corner to see a truck pulled off and an elderly man in the road escorting a snapper across the yellow line.  I am always in a hurry but there is something about a snapping turtle that can slow you down to a more leisurely pace. Once the turtle was safely across and I began to pass, I rolled down my window and thanked the man for doing that good deed. And then I found myself meandering rather than blasting down the road.

We have a resident snapper that crosses over to our property every year. I have helped it reach safety several times, usually right around the first day of summer. Often I have been alerted to the snapper's trip across the road because of cars stopped in front of the driveway. I go out and give my snapper spiel: He's coming this way, he does it every year, don't get too close with your flip flops on. The stranger and I watch in awe as this prehistoric-looking creature lumbers along--a refreshing speed in an age when we can be connected with almost any remote corner of the world in a millisecond (and if it takes two milliseconds, we get impatient). The turtle makes it to our lawn where he will drag himself down to our pond. I thank the stranger for stopping. Traffic resumes. And I hope someone stops again in the fall when the turtle makes its way back to his winter home. (Sidenote: Not four hours after I wrote this paragraph, and obviously before I posted this blog, this very incident occurred--the dogs started barking at someone standing in the road, I went out to see that a nice man was helping "our" snapper cross while the man's female companion watched from their car. How coincidental!)

The York Center for Wildlife (www.yorkcenterforwildlife.org) is currently featuring box turtles on their website. They indicate that "all Maine turtle populations are fragile." Even more reason to help our snapping friends across the road!

Laura Dehler, Development Director for the York Center for Wildlife (yes, you can address your donation to her attention...), says the center has been fielding a half dozen calls a day specifically about turtles.

Why would we even care if these rather unattractive reptiles hang around? What "benefit" do they offer? Laura's response to this question (one that clearly drives her crazy) is that all creatures are valuable in and of themselves. They don't need to be "beneficial." Understood and agreed. But that said, I believe all things are here for some "purpose," some contribution to the world. Any creature on earth simply contributes to critical biodiversity. Turtles were hanging out with the dinosaurs; it's a shame to think that human impact could deplete a species that had been around millions of years. And,  like all animals (including humans, believe it or not!), turtles do provide a service to the world. Turtles eat larvae (including that of the mosquito--how helpful is that!) and tend to prey--like most predators--on the weak and sick. In that way, they help maintain the genetic pool with the strong and the healthy. 

How are snapping turtles Farm Fresh? A turtle crossing the road is a sign that there are open spaces and wetlands to accommodate them. We built the roads; we can help the animals we are inconviencing get safely across them. A large snapping turtle is aged--one the size of a dinner plate, like the one that crosses my road, is probably around 30 years old. It is nice to know that our environment has remained rural enough to sustain this one animal for 30 years. Let's keep it that way.

Photo: Matthew J. Aresco, Dept. of Biological Sciences, Florida State University


Farm Fresh: Welcome

Posted by: Cheryl Kimball

Tagged in: animals

Cheryl Kimball

Farm Fresh

I’m scratching out some thoughts for my new blog on pen and paper while I eat my lunch of an egg and sausage sandwich. The egg is a local egg from a backyard flock, the sausage “artisan-style” (yet prepackaged) chicken sausage, the bread a 12-grain variety from the grocery store shelf. “Organic” blue corn tortilla chips give some crunch to my lunch. And I am sipping on a diet Dr. Pepper that contains something called “phenylalanine” in a plastic bottle that begs me to recycle it. All of this makes me think about the eclectic food world we now live in.

            The table at which I sit is a custom cherry Shaker-style table housed in a 200-ish-year-old Cape that I have called home for almost 16 years. Next to the table is one of four fireplaces in the house. The ceiling beams—which I released from a plaster prison a decade or so ago—are enormous, probably from huge trees cut on the property. The floor is yellow pine and completely uneven. In one adjacent room is a flat screen television that TimeWarner adorns with High Definition making every Jacoby Ellsbury at-bat successful in my opinion. In the other adjacent room, next to the window with the wavy panes of old glass, is the laptop to which I am soon headed abandoning pen and paper. And I think about the eclectic homes we make for ourselves these days.

            Our home is surrounded by around 90 acres of mostly wooded property—a mere pittance from whatever land the original homesteader secured, I am sure—whose current deed states my husband’s and my name. We have worked with our county forester to put in an access road around the perimeter of our property. And four or five mornings a week, I put on my sneakers and jog that access road. Jack constructed a great little sugar house; every spring he exhibits more patience than I will have in a lifetime waiting for 40 gallons of clear sap to boil down into one gallon of the sweetest syrup to dress our pancakes and to provide a gift of appreciation to those who bring our wayward Labrador Retriever home at various times throughout the year. Just a few hundred yards from the sugar house, cars of all makes and sizes whiz by with what seems like ever-increasing frequency and speed. And I think about what an eclectic atmosphere this rural property has taken on.

            Four horses roam on a few acres of our wooded land. I ride them along the access road, looping around, transportation to nowhere for no reason but pleasure.  I haul them places in a trailer with my weary computer-module-run F-150 pickup. A few months of the year, the horses munch on meager grass that we have eked out of this tree-and-rock laden property, but mostly I buy their feed—much of it in bales, some of it in plastic bags. I am a certified veterinary technician but since I am not practicing out in the veterinary world, I "practice" on my own horses. Although horse care involves lots of physical labor, it is not sustained cardiovascular or focused muscle development that a person of my age needs to hope to feel like a person of less than my age—so you would find it difficult to pry my Planet Fitness subscription out of my hands. Thus is the “farm life” I have constructed for myself.

            This is the world I will write about in this space—the eclectic life of the contemporary rural greater seacoast area. Not so rural at all. But amidst the Wal-mart plastic and the treadmill and the HDTV we can connect with bits of the land. Local eggs, compost, herbs, clams, lobsters, maple syrup, farmer’s markets and farm stands. Horses to ride, manure to clean up, gardens to plant, live Christmas trees to cut, fish from the pier, hay to haggle price over, sheep to shear, grain stores to visit, dogs to pull ticks from and give Lyme vaccinations, barn cats to catch the mice. I plan to blog about all these life-and-the-land little bits and more: the good things, the bad things, the controversial things.

Rural, contemporary, and opinionated. Farm Fresh.     


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