Roadside Attraction

A snapping turtle at the roadside.

One evening in late June, coming home from work, I pulled into the driveway just in time to see a foot-long mama turtle take a tentative step from our front yard onto the very busy street where we live. I thought she was a goner -- traffic races by our house at all hours of the day and night. Cats and dogs have enough trouble crossing the road . . .

I wondered how I might save her – directing traffic around her perhaps, or picking her up with a shovel and escorting her to the other side of the road. I didn’t relish either task. I’d heard stories about snapping turtles who easily chomped the end off broomsticks and baseball bats; I didn’t know how to discern whether or not this one was a snapper. It was too late to call Animal Control, and I didn’t think the police would consider this a priority. By the time I got out of my car however, she had turned back. Relieved, I went into the house to phone my husband Chris, a photographer, who would surely want to document what was going on in our front yard.

I had seen turtles all over the place that week, so I knew it was egg laying season. Around here, pregnant mama turtles tend to favor the soft sand along roadsides, which is easy to dig. Sure enough, when I went back outside, the turtle had begun to dig a hole with her hind feet in the sand, right at the edge of the road. I didn’t want to disturb her – the rush hour traffic was distracting enough – so instead I took a seat on our front step, about 15 feet away.

Shortly after that my husband came home, a camera in each hand. The turtle worked at digging her hole for about a half hour; we kept our distance, but watched the entire time, rapt. Naturally, Chris snapped about a hundred pictures. At one point, he was lying on the grass of the road shoulder, parallel to the traffic, about ten feet away from the turtle. Vehicles were slowing down, kids were gawking from car windows, but whether it was to see the turtle laying her eggs or the crazy man with the cameras lying at the edge of the road, we’ll never know for sure.

Once the hole was big enough, the turtle backed into it, so that only the front half of her body was visible. Then, for the next thirty minutes or so, she rocked, heaved and labored to lay her eggs. We didn’t dare go close enough to see how many she’d lain, but according to my field guide, there were probably 20-40 ping-pong ball shaped eggs when she was done. Visibly fatigued, she then crawled out of the hole and began covering it up with loose sand.

After that I went into the house to make dinner, but every so often I’d peer out a window to see where the turtle had gone. First she made her way across our lawn, then she rested in a leafy section of one of our flower beds. Finally, she began to plod down the hill into our back yard, toward the brook, the wetlands on an adjacent property, or maybe even the North River, more than a mile away.

We’ve been watching the site where she laid her eggs, and so far it seems to be undisturbed. However we have seen turtle predators like skunks and raccoons prowling the yard at night. The eggs aren’t due to hatch until late August or early September, so we’ll keep watching with hope that the hatchlings will survive their incubation.

And when they do hatch, we’ll be ready to direct them down the hill toward the water, and away from the busy street that their mother was wise enough not to cross.

by Kezia Bacon Bernstein, Correspondent
July 2003

Kezia Bacon Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

Turtle Crossing

A turtle in the road.

It happens every spring. I am driving down the road late in the afternoon and I see a small dark object ahead of me, right in the middle of my lane. As I approach, I note that the object is moving, ever-so-slowly, toward the side of the road. In order to pass around it, I must stop and wait for a break in the oncoming traffic. Thus every spring I spend a few seconds -- maybe even a minute if the traffic is heavy -- observing the female turtle en route to her nesting site.

Turtles have been around since before the dinosaurs. Remember the “Tortoise and Hare” story? The turtle definitely had it right, because it’s still here, poking along, slowly but surely through the ages. And turtles tend to stay around for a long time. Their lifespan is remarkable among not only other reptiles, but among most fish, birds, and mammals. It is not uncommon for a small turtle to live from 20 to 50 years. A large sea turtle may live 100 years or more.

There are two turtle families found regularly in this region. The Emydidae family, which includes the box turtle, painted turtle, and pond slider, can be found in ponds, marshes, and other semiaquatic areas. Snapping (Chelydridae) turtles live in marshes, large lakes, reservoirs and rivers, in suburban and even urban settings. Both varieties eat both plants and animals.

When they’re not obstructing traffic, turtles can often be seen sunning themselves on rocks and logs. Not unlike humans, turtles like to bask in the sun. But turtles do it for a reason other than to relax or get a tan.The theory is that basking permits turtles to raise their body temperatures to a level where they can most efficiently move, escape predators, digest food, and complete other bodily functions. The heat of the sun also helps turtles to rid their bodies and shells of algae, leeches, and parasites.

So why did the turtle cross the road? Most likely to lay her eggs. The painted turtle likes to make her nest in sandy soils such as gravel pits, roadsides, and railroad beds, or on lawns or mowed fields. One to two months after a mid-spring courtship, the female painted turtle will begin looking for a nesting site. Typically stepping out in the late afternoon, she will seek a open, sunny spot with vegetation nearby. She will dig several false and one true nest (to confuse predators) and then deposit 4 - 8 small, white or yellowish oblong eggs. She’ll neatly cover up the nest, and then it’s back to the pond. If the skunks, foxes, squirrels, and raccoons don’t find them, the eggs will hatch in late summer, and once they’re strong enough, the hatchlings will migrate to a pond or river.

Snapping turtles, by far the most common in these parts, also nest in mid-spring and early summer. Snappers favor many of the same nesting areas as painted turtles, however they also like beaches, dunes, and the shores of ponds and lakes. Snapping turtles love the water so much that just about the only time they’ll leave it is to move to another pond or to make a nest. The female snapping turtle typically deposits 20 - 30 eggs at a nesting; the eggs are round and a bit smaller than a ping pong ball. Finding a snapper’s nest can be easy, because they’re a bit sloppy when it comes to hiding them. It’s no wonder then, that the nests are often raided by skunks and other critters, usually within the 24 hours after the eggs are lain. The hatchlings emerge in August or September, and eventually migrate to shallow water.

So the next time you’re driving along and a slow-moving turtle blocks your path, be considerate. She’s moving as fast as she can. Let her pass so she can lay her eggs and get back to her favorite log in the sun. And don’t be surprised if you see her again next year.

by Kezia Bacon
May 1996

Kezia Bacon of Marshfield is the Assistant Director of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association.