I just read an article about snapping turtles in this month’s Wildlife in North Carolina magazine. The article was mostly about how snapping turtles get a bum rap, and while everyone is busy hating them, they are still one of the most highly poached and illegally-trafficked species of wildlife. Apparently, much of the illegal harvest and transport of the snapping turtles is to get the to the consumer market in China, where the demand for turtle meat is very high.
According to the article, snapping turtles are still falsely blamed for declines in duck species when, in fact, ducks and waterfowl make up a very tiny portion of their diet. When the contents of their stomachs are examined, it turns out that they eat mostly fish, crustaceans, plants, insects, frogs and snakes.
Anyhow, all this talk of snapping turtles reminded me of a few encounters that we have had with snapping turtles on the farm. Once, a snapping turtle was in our garden and snapped at Dave left and right while he managed to corral him into a container.
I was stunned by how quickly and forcefully the turtle struck at the shovel that Dave was using to herd him. Finally, Dave caught the turtle and we released him into our pond. Thankfully, he never returned. I really don’t relish the thought of losing my fingers to a turtle bite while I’m trying to harvest some lettuce!
Of course our pond is where we have had most of our encounters with snapping turtles. When I swim in the pond (much less frequently than I used to, now that we have joined the swimming pool at one of the exurban enclaves that has sprouted near our farm), I always keep an eye on the murky water, hoping not to get bitten by a snapper or, worse yet, a copperhead or water moccasin, all three of which are species that make more use of our pond than we do.
The reason that I was particularly freaked out about a snapper turtle biting off my toes as I swam was that the biggest snapping turtle that I have ever seen in my life lives at our pond. We nicknamed him Mr. Bitey, and he is so giant that when he walks through the woods near the pond, he sounds like a dinosaur on the prowl.
It has been a couple of summers since I have seen Mr. Bitey, but I always keep an eye out for him. Since snapping turtles often live for forty years or more, it’s very likely that Mr. Bitey is still lurking in the woods, waiting for me to get the hell out of the pond so that he can catch himself some dinner. And I don’t blame him. After all, he’s probably been swimming in that pond since before I was born!
