As the heavy weight of the August sun hovers above me I scramble to the shade of a mighty oak tree to think back on the season that is rapidly coming to an end. It’s amazing how fast time slips away, like crumbling sediment flowing down a cool mountain stream. I can’t help but laugh when considering that the very creatures that long for the warmth of that giant ball of burning gas in the early spring months, now cower from its fury. I guess we are the same in that way. We as humans never seem happy with our environment. I used to hate the change of seasons as a kid but I think the older I get the more I look forward to them.
Maryland winters can drag on for what feels like an eternity, especially when you enjoy herping as much as I do. For endless months it would seem, the icy claws of Mother Nature scrape at vinyl siding if only daring us to enter the forbidding arctic landscape. I can’t help but feel depressed during those times, as if an old friend had moved away, never to be seen again. The bitter chill is good for one thing though, slowing down and catching up.
Much like the creatures I spend countless hours seeking out in the warm months, I disappear for a while only to emerge refreshed and full of vigor. It’s these times that I chip away at the vast pool of information now so readily available. The invention of the Internet coupled with GPS technology has transformed the muddy field guide days of my youth into a well oiled exploration machine. That’s not to say I don’t still have my trusty Peterson’s guide tucked away somewhere in my camera pack. These days, I can usually be found with aerial map printouts, research papers, blog postings, and detailed habitat descriptions from multiple scientific sources. Having those eyes in the sky open up a world that would otherwise never be trekked.
Once the ice begins to thaw, it is time to put all my research to work. Reptiles or no reptiles present (usually the latter), I have experienced the great American landscape that so many will die never knowing existed. I feel fortunate to have slept under the stars, climbed to the tops of mountains, paddled through vast swamplands where humans seldom go. I have found some of the most amazing creatures in parks that are barely mentioned on most road maps, remote ponds I walked by dozens of times without knowing what was just over that next hill, and unique habitats otherwise not considered.
As the browns transition into green I become alive. All those months of hibernation in front of a computer screen now pay off! Or maybe not? Nature has its own time table that we never seem to agree with. I have ventured out on countless excursions after deciding that yes, it’s warm enough; the turtles are ready to start basking. Our little shelled friends are not bound by the restraints of our text books it seems. I have seen painted turtles basking in February, an ice cube in the shape of a snapping turtle hatchling, and box turtles refusing to leave the comfort of their cold weather homes well into May. I often would become impatient, even angry after hiking miles without any signs of reptilian life when all conditions in my mind said things were just right. Turtles especially often don’t agree with us on our idea of the “perfect day”.
Most of our standard programming is wrong. I used to wonder why it was so difficult to find box turtles on a nice sunny day in a pristine grove of forest. It turns out that just as the old saying goes that the early bird gets the worm; our florescent land dwellers must be after that same worm crop since they are found in much greater numbers by those who set their alarm clocks a little earlier. It is ingrained in me that summer is turtle time but it’s really late spring when it comes to seeing them in great numbers. Once the water heats up there is less motivation for aquatic turtles to bask and the stagnant heat is often too oppressive for terrestrial species to be visible to our naked eyes. Others like bog and spotted turtles more or less disappear after June, leaving only a short window if you even know how to find them. From my findings, most of our reptiles slow down after the mating and egg laying frenzy fades away. They are still around, they just seem to sit back and enjoy their hard work, preparing for the harsh times ahead. Once you have the timing right, you have to find out where they are supposed to be.
Above all else, finding the right habitat is often the most daunting task. If they are there and you know how to find them, you probably can. Even when you think you have it right, our armored friends will tell us that they don’t always fit into what we deem to be where they should live. That’s the real trick and enough negative findings can have an impact on someone as busy as myself. I have kayaked acres of marsh to find out that the salinity was either too low or too high to spot terrapins. I have traveled alongside waterways that were too deep for spotted turtles. I have hiked along miles of wooded creeks well within the claimed range of the wood turtle without spotting a single specimen, most likely due to past human interference. I have found these species and almost every other species native to inland Maryland this year, but it was never easy for most and that exhilaration when discovering a species for the first time in the wild is unparalleled by any drug out there I’m sure. This is what makes all the mosquito bites, sunburn, and cut up skin worth it. Being in the outdoors is fantastic but most of our turtles aren’t necessarily found in places that are comfortable for humans, of course this may be their only hope.
Perhaps the most discouraging factor in these times of environmental decline is the absence of species in key habitat. With all the unique tools to seek out wildlife in its natural setting, the odds are still against us. Through years of pollution, over collecting for the pet trade, and wilderness fragmentation we have lost the great numbers we once had. I have read about population declines for years but it wasn’t until I really got out there that I could see it for myself. I have read historic accounts of many species and even recall finding individuals as a kid that I have never found since in those same areas. It goes to show you how important habitat is and protecting those lands so the greatest gift we can pass down the line stands a fair chance of making it. I must stress that a great part of growing up is that now I can enjoy wildlife through the lens of a camera. While exploring our beautiful lands, we must make as little impact as possible and almost any turtle that you would like to enjoy as a pet can easily be found born in captivity. Please leave them where you find them so others can marvel at them and they can continue contributing to the ecosystem as they had before you crossed their path.
There is one last piece of the puzzle however as we inch towards autumn. The vigorous efforts of the spring pay off as a new generation, a new hope, breaks free of the earth from which it formed. Tiny warriors carrying on their quarter sized carapaces the hope for the future of their species. If they survive the few months inside their eggs without being devoured by raccoons then they are better off then most. If they find their way to cover without being snatched up by a crow then better yet. If they can only locate food and elude all the constant arsenal of dangers for a little while, then their numbers can stabilize. If they can keep doing this for the five to ten years it will take them to pay off the debt their parents left by laying a nest of their own, then there is a chance the millions of years in the making will not be in vain. I can’t help feeling a kinship with these wanderers of our wilderness, trying to escape the shackles of the modern day world.
