Next Up: Spring

“First comes spring and summer, but then we have fall and winter. And then we get spring and summer again.” ~ Chance the Gardener, Peter Sellers, Being There


I noticed it yesterday. It was faint, but it was definitely there. It was fleeting, as it was gone today. But I have hope. It will be back. The official date for its arrival is March 20th but just as a newborn seldom comes into the world on their scheduled due date and often teases the anxious expectant parents with false labor, so it is with Spring. It’ll be here when it’s good and ready and no sooner, but will usually tease us with brief moments of coming attractions. And so it was with yesterday. Spring was in the air.

I had been, appropriately, doing spring cleaning although it wasn’t quite warm enough to have my windows opened. But when I went outside to shake out my very full dust rag, there was this very subtle hint of Spring. I turned my face into the slight breeze so as not to get a face full of dust when I shook out the cloth. The air had a faint scent of fresh grass and I was instantly taken back to my track & field days some 35+ years ago. And just as fast I thought of my older son. He had run track too and was a star pole-vaulter as well. He and I have talked about how the lovely Autumn scents remind us of our cross country days and now I wondered whether he was outside in Rochester, breathing in the fresh air and thinking of track. And if he was, I imagined him, just as fast, thinking of me thinking of him because he knows I would be. I could take that even further but it may get confusing. But then I realized we’re talking about Rochester, NY, located way up north on the banks of Lake Ontario. It is unlikely that Spring – or any hint of it – would be making its way up there anytime soon.

Now, we know that there are 4 seasons everywhere around the globe. It’s just that different regions may have different names for them. My son is always upbeat and never negative. But in listening to him talk about Rochester, which is where he’s been living for 1 ½ years, I get the feeling that the 4 seasons up there go something like this: cold, snow, bleak and summer. Many of these seasons overlap and summer is in the month of July. So I believe that right now it is bleak up there, which is the word he has used to describe it in the past – in a matter-of-fact sort of manner, not in a negative way -- although the word itself paints a very dreary picture. Either way, I did shoot him an email to tell him that it is track season here in Connecticut and that I was thinking of him!

I have seen other signs of spring recently. Robins looking for worms in my back yard for one, and there have been more birds in the early morning waking me up. The past few days I’ve seen a few bugs outside flying around. I don’t know what kind of bugs but I haven’t seen bugs outside since September. For the past few weeks I’ve heard that familiar honking in the air as the geese have been returning. And finally, the ice on the lake is disappearing and I’ve just heard that the UCONN crew teams will be practicing starting next week. They are putting their dock in on Wednesday the 17th and will begin their rowing on Thursday.

I gotta say, I do like winter and I’m not “sick” of it as some people might be, but I also like the next season. Every season I’m in is the best season to be in at the time – but I do like when they change too. It’s kind of like; say you’re at a fancy restaurant: they put a plate of something in front of you and it looks good and tastes great and you “oouu” and “ahh” over the presentation of it all as you eat it up. Then, not quite finished, but they take that plate away and present you with another one. You liked the first, but you like this one too and you never quite get the chance to fully enjoy them all and then they’re gone. But others keep coming in their place so that’s ok. Each one different but equally as delicious. And so it is with the seasons.

I could go on and on about what I like about this winter season – as it slowly slips away. The frigid air as it stings your nostrils and freezes the hairs inside your nose; the quietness, stillness and peacefulness you feel while standing in the woods with the snow falling all around; the beauty of the snow on the leaves on the ground in the woods – looking like sugar on a bowl of cornflakes; the snow sticking on the trees and the ice hanging from the branches; the silhouette of the bare trees against the sky and finally; looking out the window on a clear night when “the moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,” gives “a luster of mid-day to objects below.” But as I gaze outside now and see about a dozen robins pulling worms out of the ground in my front yard – and although I’ve not quite had my fill of it -- I’ll say goodbye to winter with no regrets. I know it will be back on December 21st, if not sooner. Next up: Spring!

Whose Backyard Is This Anyway?

"Bless the beast and the children. For in this world they have no voice. They have no choice.”

As I stood on the deck in the frigid air after my morning walk today I gazed out into the woods as I always do. Though the temperature is a mere 9 degrees, I am properly layered and plenty warm. There is not a cloud in the sky and no breeze or wind and so I can really feel the warmth of the morning sun. And although I have heard no complaints from Missy, I don’t believe she should be out very long when it’s this cold, so I have sent her inside. Looking into the woods I see the same trio of deer that I have seen just about every day since last spring. Although I have truly seen deer in my backyard nearly every day for the past 20 years, I have kept track of these three specifically. It is a Mom with her 2 babies – who are getting older now, no longer babies really. I recall the day when one of them was born.

It was last spring and I was on my morning walk. As I walked through the enchanted forest – the section of my driveway that cuts through the woods – I spotted a baby deer lying in the leaves about 8 feet into the woods, just minutes old. The mama had temporarily left but was, undoubtedly, watching me and Missy from a safe distance as we passed on through. I have learned that new born deer, before the mom cleans them all up, have no scent. I’m sure the mom left so as not to draw notice to her and her new born fawn, from the dog. I kept on walking, not wanting to startle the baby or panic the mother and not wanting Missy to see her. True to form, my faithful companion/guard dog – whose eyesight isn’t all that great - remained clueless to the nearness of the brand new fawn and we successfully walked on past. On the walk back the fawn was gone.

As the baby grew and was able to string along with Mom, it was so neat to see her looking, of course, just like Bambi with all the spots that they eventually loose. The mama would walk across our yard with her baby close behind and followed also by another deer who appeared to be the older sister to the newborn. The legs on the fawn seemed to be way too long for her small body and it was as if she was walking on stilts.

Now, to be clear, there were - and are - more than these 3 deer, but I came to recognize this trio over the summer and autumn months and now, on into winter. Quite often I’d see them grazing in the field with other deer. At times it seemed as if the older deer were babysitting the younger ones and perhaps tolerating their antics. As I watched from my vantage point at the top the hill, looking down at them in the field, it was as if I was watching a Disney movie. Art really does imitate life. The babies were frolicking – hopping and skipping and literally running in circles around the other deer in juts and spurts. Deer are people too!

More than once I would come upon the deer, unexpectantly, surprising both the deer and myself. Often times, when this happened, the mama deer would stomp her front hoof once. I knew the deer would be off and running in a matter of seconds. I came to recognize that this stomping was a signal which served two purposes. Firstly, it was a warning to me to stop right there and that if I dare come any closer the deer would snort and spit at me. Secondly, it was a signal to her babies as if to say, “Ok, on the count of three – we run!” And sure enough off they would go, bounding across my backyard and into the woods jumping over stone walls and following their ancient, well traveled paths. Their white tails in the air, moving up and down, look as if they’re waving. Often times, in the early morning or in the faint light of late day – at twilight – they would blend right into the woods and would miss being seen altogether were it not for the white of their under tail.

And so as I recalled all these sightings of the deer over the past months and watched them now in the woods, standing on my deck, I couldn’t help but wonder; whose backyard is this anyway? Just then the deck lets out a huge “bang” as it so often does when the temperature is this low, and three heads pop up in the woods as the deer stand “at attention.” I know the answer and am grateful to the deer to be sharing their home with me, in which I am really a guest. Of course they didn’t have a choice, did they? And although good guests usually don’t go around cutting your trees down, I have, unwittingly, provided them with really nice shrubs in my front yard to eat. We have even bought deer food for them at the local Tractor Supply. It’s nice we can live in each other’s backyard. I look forward to seeing brand new frolicking fawns in the spring.

My Happy Place

“I know a place where no one ever goes. There’s peace and quiet, beauty and repose.”

This early morning found me down at the lake as usual. One might think I’d tire of this same walk and scenery day after day. But I never do. That is not to say, however, that I wouldn’t love to be walking in other places with other scenery. I would. I’ll be joining a hiking club soon, maybe next week. They hike locally every Tuesday and Thursday. Next Tuesday they are meeting in Mansfield (Storrs) just 10 minutes east of me, near the UConn campus. There are so many local trails, none of which I have walked. I am looking forward to new places and meeting these people, who I know must be my tribe.

So, I walked with Missy up to the “point.” The point, at this south end of the lake, juts out into the water, kind of like a peninsula but on a much smaller scale. There are coves on either side of the point. The town beach is on one side and the state boat launch just beyond it. On the other side, the cove extends much farther to the end of the lake. The point is wooded and fairly thick with Mountain Laurel bushes, which bloom in early June. Some pink, some white. The Mountain Laurel is Connecticut’s state flower. There are a few paths to choose from to walk up to the top. We’re only talking a hundred feet, if that; I mean it’s not a large area. It is well under an acre, I’d say. Not only is the point – an actual point – as it juts out into the lake, but there is also an incline to it. Probably only 20 to 25’ of elevation gain till you reach the top “point.” There is a concrete slab at the top on which is the engraving, “Bates’ Point.” I don’t know who Bates is. I suppose I should go to the library and study up on the local history of this town that I have lived in for 52 years.

I used to play up at this “point” as a child with my sibs and the neighbor kids, who were also like brothers and sisters to me – and still are. We’d busy our summer days catching frogs and salamanders and garter snakes. We’d walk along the shore from my house, there at the end of the lake, to the point. Walking along the rocky shore line – I’m talking little rocks in very shallow, ankle deep water – we’d pick through the rocks, turning them over looking for the crawfish hiding there. We’d always bring a pail of sorts to collect up all the creepy crawly things. It would take us forever to walk this very short distance around the perimeter of the cove to get to the point. There was so much to do and see along the way. And my Mom, looking out from the perch of our home set up a bit on the lake, could see us the whole time and we always stuck together as a group. We were carefree but we were safe. What a fantastic place to grow up! Sometimes we’d swim across the cove, diagonally, to the point, which was quite a long distance to swim. We’d use our life jackets as flotation – not wearing them but lying on top and swimming with them. Or, sometimes we’d have a tube or a raft of sorts. To swim directly across the cove, though, to the other side was not a long distance and would only take a few minutes.

From the top of the point, standing on the concrete slab, I surveyed the lake while Missy, off her leash now, sniffed around and ran in spurts here and there, excited I think at the freedom from her leash. There is no road to run into and no way to get lost up here. She is safe and stays close by. Missy finds the steep dirt path that leads sharply down to the water’s edge and looks back to me for approval. I tell her to go ahead and I follow her down to the rocky shore. The lake is lower now which makes it possible to walk along the edge of the shore around the entire perimeter of the point which I love to do. For now though, I sit for a minute on a larger rock and drink in the stillness. This place is my “happy place.” It is so easy to go here in my mind when I go here nearly every morning. And although I have many other “happy places,” I can’t actually get to them as readily. Those other places though, remain in my mind and I call them up into my thoughts from time to time. I comb through the smaller rocks now, looking for just the right one to skip and I skip it across the surface of the water. I watch it go, maybe 30 feet before it veers off to the right and sinks. I wish I could linger here a little longer, (“mmm I wanna linger, mmm a little longer”) but alas, it’s time to go.

I am at the very middle of the point – at the 12 o’clock mark. I walk counter clockwise now toward the beach and the park. Missy wades in the cold water not seeming to mind. Back near the beginning of the point now, I look over and see my sculling friend walking across the beach toward me – having walked from the boat launch, probably on his way to the point – with his little dog Bean. We chat a moment about nothing really, but it is always so uplifting to meet up with a member of my “congregation” – my “tribe,” a kindred spirit. I know I say this alot and it’s because I can finally put my finger on it. These people who I run into now and then (and so many out there that I haven’t met) – whether while kayaking, walking, running – well, we all have stuff in common and it’s nice to share these common threads and have this communion – this fellowship - when we meet, if only so briefly.

I suppose I need to get out more and meet more people from my tribe. I will be doing this on Tuesday with the hiking group. When I emailed the group leader to ask about the hike and tell her that I might be joining the group, she emailed me back and said, among other things, that in addition to hiking she was a “paddler,” which I took to mean a fellow kayaker. Yes, I have found my tribe.

The Fog - The Sun - The Moon - The Lake

“The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.” ~ Carl Sandburg

Today was the 4th day since setting the clocks back and I am just loving getting out an hour or so earlier for my morning walk. Monday I was out the door by 5:45, although I was aiming for 5:30, and 6:00 on Tuesday and today. It starts to get light about 30 minutes before sunrise and gets light fairly fast. Sunrise is about 6:20 now, but of course that changes by a few minutes every day. I can’t quite explain why I like being out early, but there’s just something about being up and awake and outside – getting a jump on my day I guess? No, that’s not it. It’s as if I have the whole world to myself. I love the quietness and stillness and peacefulness. This “me” time sustains me throughout my day and if I don’t have any other quiet times or solitude that day, that’s ok, because at least I had this early morning. It’s almost like I’m carrying a special secret with me all day which comes to the foreground of my thoughts now and then, whispering to me, “remember this?” as those visions from my morning walk appear as a slide show in my mind. This always makes me smile.

I know that there are a lot of people who are up early, getting ready for work and I know I am fortunate to be able to work from my home. And although 5:45 seems early now, it really is not all that unusual for anyone to be up at that point. Being up and out at 4:45 in July and August is a different story all together, I think. Nice. I felt as if I had more hours in my day than other people.

On Monday, I sat on the stonewall at the top of my driveway near the mailboxes to finish my coffee. Just as I started out from there, my neighbor appeared and so I had the pleasure of walking with my him the 7/10’s of a mile or so to the end of our street where we parted ways; he, going left up the street on his usual route and I, going into the park and continuing down to the lake there. As we approached the end of our road, you could see the moon, looking absolutely huge, as it was setting into the lake straight ahead of us. How nice to see the sun rising behind me in the east, while watching the moon setting in the west. Just stunning. And this full moon – going to bed now in the morning - was rising last night. I watched it through my kitchen sliders – stepping out momentarily onto the deck to get a clearer view. Spectacular! Big and orange on the rise, bright and white on setting. Grand entrance – big finish – a great show all around, and no charge! I wonder how many people looked at the same thing but didn’t actually see it. Too busy with the stuff of their lives, too stressed out to care, perhaps. And then I wonder how many people saw it as I did and were gazing up at it at the same time as I with a feeling of deep appreciation and awe. Those people, for whom something like this really speaks, well – those people are my tribe. And although I don’t know any of them, I know they are out there. The thought of this makes me smile.

Tuesday morning dawned clear with blue skies turning a deeper blue as the sun rose. Up top, on the road now walking northwest, more or less, I look back to the east and I see the glow of the sun’s rays – not the actual sun yet - through the trees as it nears the horizon, almost official now. Drum roll please. There it is, rising fast and washing out the orange blaze to a bright yellow. The show put on just prior to sunrise sometimes upstages the actual main event, which is the case this morning. With the leaves gone from the trees now, the contrast between the dark silhouetted trees in the foreground, with the sky on fire behind them, is quite a sight. I stand and watch for a minute.

Continuing on down the road, I am approaching the spot with the view, to the right, of the valley and hills where often times the fog lays low, thick and heavy. When I’m just about there I notice what appears to be smoke straight ahead about 3/10’s of a mile up the road. Although the road is straight and level, for all intent and purposes, there is an ever so slight incline from my mail box to the midway point down the road, about 4/10’s of a mile. Then a very slight downgrade from there to the end. You can’t notice it at all when walking it. There is no extra effort required when walking. It is only noticeable from a visual standpoint. When walking it you can see the “high” point from way back as the road dips so slightly beyond it so that anything standing at that very point – like a dog crossing the street right there – appears to be on a horizon. You can’t see the actual road beyond that point although you can still see the homes on either side. I only mention this, and try ever so inadequately to describe it, because it was a tenth of a mile or so beyond this horizon high point in the road that appeared to be where there was a heavy smoke in the road. And although I could see it some 3-4/10ths a mile ahead, I couldn’t quite make out totally what or where it was from. Could it be a downdraft from someone’s chimney? Is someone burning something in a barrel in their backyard? Is a house on fire? I can’t tell. Guess I’ll just have to wait a few minutes until I am there.

It was just at that point when I got to my view of the valley heavy with fog. I looked behind me down the road from where I walked, still clear as a bell and blue sky. There was a slight breeze and the smoke ahead seemed to be moving down the road toward me. The fog in the valley seemed to be lifting a bit and actually moving also in my direction. As I approached the halfway horizon mark I realize that the smoke ahead of me is not smoke at all. It is fog. And as I turn again to look behind me, the clear sky is fading and I am almost totally engulfed by fog that is all around me now. I have never seen the fog appear so quickly, indeed “on little cat feet,” so quiet, quick and stealth. If I were in a ship, I’d be lost at sea at this point. I look straight up and I can see the blue sky, just barely, through the fog. I know it will lift and burn away, but how strange this is. If the people in the homes ahead of me wake and look out their window through sleepy eyes, they will be deceived into thinking it is a gray overcast day. But it is not!

Well I continue on, enjoying the fog which has a beauty all its own. Down on the shore of the lake now I’m held captive by the sight. The fog is patchy and although it is thick in places it is also wispy. Houses across the shore appear and disappear in the fog. The near full moon suddenly appears through the fog, low on the lake getting ready to set. Oh, how magnificent and almost mystical, really. And, although I can't see them, I hear the voices of the Uconn Crew team that practices on the lake nearly every morning. For college students (and by that I really mean, young people, because I know it’s extra hard for them to do this early rising thing) to be up before 6AM to catch their shuttle and to be out on the lake by 6 – well you gotta know how dedicated they are. I so admire that! Here they come out of the fog, what a sight. There are three or four, 8-man scuttles out there with 2 small motor boats with their coaches, which scoot along with them calling out instructions through a bull horn. I often see them out there but it is a special treat today due to the effect the fog plays on all of this. Surreal.

As I walk back through the park toward the road I wave to the man in the Uconn shuttle bus. He is the driver who sits and reads a book, glancing up now and then at the lake, as he waits for the team to finish. It is only a 10 minute drive to the Uconn campus in Storrs. He is the same driver as last year and the year before. He is probably thinking, “Oh my god, that lady is still walking her dog down here to the lake!” He waves back and smiles.

As I continue east toward the road, I look back for one more view of the lake, the moon and the fog. The sun is bright now. I think the fog is ready to move on.

My Mother Rode Her Bike

“Adventure is worthwhile in itself.” ~ Amelia Earhart

My mother rode her bike. No not recently, but some 60 years ago when she was 16 (though, later on too.) Now, to be clear, she wasn’t my mother or anyone’s mother at age 16, although marriage and motherhood would only be a few years away for her at that point and it would be another 8 years from then until I would be born, in 1957. There were 3 sibs ahead of me and 1 after, in 1960. (Hi Holly!) My parents met at an airport of all things!

Now, some kids are given exclusive use of a car when they are 16 or even given a car, period. But, my mother rode her bike. A lot of kids had jobs after school to which they walked, took the bus or drove their car. My mother rode her bike. Now, granted, some kids had to walk everywhere and didn’t even have a bike, let alone a car. My mother lived in a large metropolitan suburb of a major city and as such, the town she grew up in itself was highly populated, probably around 40,000 people back then. It had a hospital, public transportation and was easy to get around. And, as established, my mother rode her bike.

When I was 16, I had a bike too. My first 10 speed. I remember it now as clear as if it were just yesterday, riding my bike everywhere that first summer I had it. I got it for my 16th birthday. I paid for half of it with the money I saved from babysitting and my Dad paid for the balance. It was $120.00 which was a lot of money back then. I still have the odometer which, I believe, shows 1600 miles. (I’ll have to dig it up and check it out now to be sure.) Of course, years later, my two boys had bikes too and also rode everywhere on them. There were a few times when we’d all be camping together – my husband and our boys in our RV and my Mom and Dad in their Bus – we all would bring our bikes and would ride around the campground together. I rode, the boys rode and, as already stated - my mother rode her bike.

“Oh my gosh,” I bet you are saying, “enough already about the bikes! What is the point of your blog?” Well, you’ll just have to trust me and keep reading!

My mother was sort of spoiled when she was a little, I think. She had lessons of all sorts (and a bike at age 2) and nothing was too good for my grandparents’ “little girl.” Among other things, my Mom had piano lessons. When she was 5 she could play the Star Spangled Banner – with both hands! She could read the sheet music! How do you read 2 different lines (staffs) of music at the same time and move your fingers to the right keys, period, let alone when you are 5?! I could never figure this out. Your right hand plays one thing – reading the music in treble clef – and your left hand plays something different, at the same time – reading, at the same time something different in bass clef. Maybe I don’t have that quite right. I’m not sure. But I have tried to play the piano and I just don’t see it working for me. I guess that’s why I played the trumpet in school. 3 keys – 3 fingers. It couldn’t get any easier than that. Now, my sons played instruments with both hands too – taking after their Grammy I guess! My oldest played the clarinet in school (like his Auntie – Hi Teri) and my younger son played the sax! 2 hands – 10 fingers moving differently – amazing! I am in awe of this talent. My younger son is still serious about his music and plays the guitar (2 hands - 10 fingers, doing different things at the same time!) It is really amazing to me and I really love to hear my son play his guitar. He is truly talented and I couldn’t possibly be more proud of him and in awe of his talent.

OK, back to the various lessons and talents my mother had (in addition to her bike riding talents, for which she needed no lessons and was riding at age 2, when she got her first bike – as mentioned!) When my mother was 15 – at a time when most kids are taking driving lessons - she was taking flying lessons! You know, as in a plane in the sky! Flying lessons! I mean, how cool is that?! And when my mother was 16 – when most kids get their drivers license – Mom got her pilot’s license! Her pilot’s license! Now wait, it gets better. For her sweet sixteen, my grandparents bought their little girl a plane! A freakin’ plane! (I know, I keep repeating myself. I can’t help it.) “My mother had her own plane!” (I’m shouting this now.) She must have promised to get straight A’s, I bet. My mother’s name is Alice and she named her plane, appropriately, Wonderland. She had it painted on the side. I guess I don’t need to state the obvious – you know, what people would say when they looked up in the sky and saw my mother in her plane! Isn’t that just too cool?

Now, as it turns out, there was a handsome fly-boy at the airport where my mother kept her plane. He owned his own plane too. It didn’t take long at all for him to notice her. I mean, how many young women have their pilot’s license, let alone their own plane!!? She was probably the only gal there. And, as mentioned earlier, it was at the airport where my mother-to-be met my father-to-be, (lucky for me) who was 4 years older than she. They would fly together, quite literally, off into the sunset! How storybook is that?! And the rest, as they say, is history. Oh, there’s just one last thing. The small airport where my mother kept her plane was 2 towns away from where she lived. Now, I don’t know how many miles that was, but it was a lot. She didn’t have use of a car or even have her driver’s license for that matter. So, with no other means to get to her plane – and in order to be able to fly - my mother rode her bike.

“I’d Rather Be Flying.” ~ Alice - in Wonderland

Author's Note: OK, I'm sure you're wondering where did this all come from and why have I wandered from my "backyard" theme. Well firstly, I guess since this is my blog I'll write what I feel and I will stray off topic from time to time. Secondly, we took Mom to see the movie "Amelia" last week. Great movie - good visual - stunning really (oh, I know I use that word too much!) Anyway - I really could go on and on about the movie and the woman, but I'll just leave it at that.

We've Got Turtles - Snapping Turtle: Part 2

“And God said, ‘Let there be turtles,’ and there were turtles. And God saw that the turtles were good.”

The Jeopardy Category: Turtles & Things – for $200. The answer: 105. You are quick at the buzzer because you know the question – You know this one: How many days did it taken for the “High Street Turtles” to make their entrance into the world? Yes! September 30th was the magic date. And, although a picture is worth a thousand words (well, in my case 1500 words – I’m really trying to shorten these posts!) here is an accounting of that day and this extraordinary event, which, were it not for a series of coincidences, might easily have gone unnoticed!

September 30th was a gorgeous Wednesday and although the day dawned with a bit of leftover sprinkles, these quickly eased up and stopped completely by 9:00. Plenty of sun and blue skies followed. Now, I love the rain and have all the proper rain gear. I will not let a little rain keep me inside or more amply put – keep me from my great outdoors. (Nor will the “cold” keep me in – it’s just a matter of proper layering. It’s amazing, all the lightweight cold weather stuff they have – not like when we were kids – but all that is for another post!) However, my little dog (well, she’s more like a small pony) does not like the rain and she’ll cower and tremble uncontrollably, because she associates it with thunder. During thunderstorms she has been found hiding in the bathtub. So, because we are up way earlier than 9:00 – and so it was still raining - we had to skip our morning walk and opted to just go around the yard. Missy, cowering, quickly did her thing (after some convincing from me that she had to do it and couldn’t just run back into the house like she wanted!) and inside we went. Sigh! So, coincidence #1 was that it was raining, thus causing us to skip our morning walk.

Later in the day, at around 2:00, Mike asked if I could go up and get the mail as he was expecting something. Now, usually we are in and out during the day on appointments, etc. (we work out of our home) and will pick up the mail on the way back. Or, if Mike wants the mail – and we haven’t been out and won’t be – he’ll just drive up himself and get it. He must have been in the middle of something and so he asked if I wouldn’t mind getting it. So – that is coincidence #2. I had been planning on taking Missy on her walk later on at around 5 or so, but it was totally gorgeous out so I jumped at this opportunity to grab her leash and off we went. I would come immediately back with the mail if Mike’s expected mail was there, otherwise, we’d continue on for a brief walk.

So, up at the box, Missy is drawn to something in the road and is sniffing it. I pull her away. I sort of glance at the thing and at first I think it is a mouse or frog (toad?) that unfortunately didn’t make it completely across – stopped short by a car. Oh, poor thing, I think. Suddenly, I realize it is a little bitty turtle and - just as I thought “oh, it happened – it happened,” - I see more crawling through the maze of grass and leaves near the mailbox toward the road, and I realize, “oh my gosh, it’s happening right now!” I, again, cannot believe my eyes. Oh, what to do? They actually want to cross the road. I see where there are a few already that didn’t make it. They are still coming out of this hole. Amazing, look at them go! One, two, three, ---- I count seven of them crawling around. Now, I know from my research that there are between 20 and 40! I only see 5 that didn’t make it. I pick up several of them, one by one, and move them away from the road. I run down the driveway and stop at my neighbor Terry’s house and ring the bell. Good, she’s home.

“Terry, the turtles are being born right now. I’m running home to grab my camera and a box or something.”

Terry has company so she cannot get away right now, but will be up soon. I bring Missy into the house; grab the camera and a big empty box that 2 bags of Cheerios came in (Honey Nut). I tell Mike the turtles have hatched and I’m going to go back up to help them across the street. Mike sees me running out the door with the Cheerios box and he says, in all seriousness and as if he thinks I’m a little crazy, “You’re gonna feed them?” Um, no!

This time, I take the car "up top." No more casualties. Good! Guarding over them, and protecting them from the cars whizzing by, I take some pics and some video. I take more video then still pics. Terry comes up after a few minutes because her visitors had just left. We pick up as many of the little guys that we see – 13 in all – and place them in the Cheerios box to transport them across the street. Why oh why do turtles always want to cross the street? (Well, there is a small pond and brook way down there) How will they ever make it, they can barely make it through the tall grass which is toppling some of them over. They manage to straighten out and continue on. Back at the hole they are still emerging. Some seem to be stronger than others. One guy is crawling over the back of his sibling to get out.

The turtles are only about 1 inch in diameter. They can fit in the small part of the palm of your hand. The hole they are crawling out of is not that much bigger. I have seen such a hole numerous times – here and there - and have often wondered what the heck the hole is all about. Now, I know. There is currently a hole like this down by the lake. It is probably about 50 to 60 feet from the shore. A better location than right near the road? Perhaps. However, there are 2 retaining stonewalls each with about a 3 foot drop before you get to the sandy beach. Oh dear! It is never easy for our little creatures out in “the wild” is it?

After a few minutes of collecting up these cute little, almost dinosaur looking, turtles, my son arrives home from work. Of course he stops in the driveway to see what is happening. I’m glad he got to see this too! I’m glad Terry was home to see this. I emailed the pics to Jack and printed out pics for Art. I didn’t have his email address. I put the pics in Art’s mailbox the next day. He called me when he got home to thank me and we agreed on how awesome it was and we were glad that they hatched this year. I told Art he did a good job as Keeper.

About the series of coincidences: If it had not been raining that morning, I would have gone for a long walk with Missy. If I went to the mailbox without Missy I might not have seen the turtles – as she was drawn to the ones in the road and made me take a closer look. And, usually we pick up the mail at the end of the day anyway – very rarely making a “special trip” to get it. Mike was expecting something and I was happy for the excuse to get out. In any case, I definitely now know for sure that the turtles never hatched last year, in 2008, as I never saw a hole like this one there. It wasn’t a case where they hatched and we didn’t see it as it was happening and so, never knew about it. I was always looking at the ground right near the mailboxes. Not knowing exactly what to look for, I would have noticed the hole and realized what happened. I’m positive none were born last year, poor things. And if I hadn’t have happened to have been there between 2 and 3:00 on the 30th of September this year, I still would have seen the hole that they had dug themselves out of and I would have known that they had been born - and I would have been very happy just knowing that. That would have been enough for me. But actually being there and seeing it all unfold – well, you know – it was beyond double icing on the cake for me.

Now, I’ll be keeping a close eye out as June 15th of 2010 approaches.

Snapping Turtle - Part I

"That this miracle of life, this reproduction - birth, occurs innumerable times every day and has for thousands and even millions of years, does not make it any less of a miracle each unique time, but even more of one."

I was walking down my driveway a few months back, coming home from my morning walk with Missy. As I got down to the bottom fork I was met by my neighbor driving out in his truck. He stopped for a second, stuck his head out the window of the truck and said, “The turtle was back yesterday.”

“Oh my goodness,” I responded, thrilled to hear the news even though I did not witness the sighting. “I can’t believe a year has passed. It’s been one year to the day! This is great, we get another chance!” The countdown begins again.

The first sighting of this turtle, whom we are assuming is the same one, was last year in 2008. It was June 15th. I remember the date because I had made a conscience effort to do so. I made a mental note of it at the time so that I could track the progress and start the countdown. This is how that day begun.

As mentioned, June 15th 2008, I was walking my dog in the early morning. It was the beginning of our walk and it was a beautiful warm morning. When we got to the top of our driveway at the road, we turned right to go onto the grassy area between the mailboxes and the stonewall there, alongside the road. Right next to the last mailbox, on the grass just inches from the road, something catches my eye. Surprisingly, Missy either does not see it or just doesn’t care. Her eyesight doesn’t seem to be all that great and I wonder if she thinks it’s a rock. I am stunned. I just cannot believe what I am seeing. I have never, ever witnessed anything like this.

I see this big snapping turtle, (yes, I’ve seen turtles – but wait, there’s more) probably a bit smaller than a dinner plate – about 8”- 10” in diameter I’d say. I’m wondering why she is not moving after seeing me. I come up to her and am about 1 foot away now. I’m careful to keep Missy at bay, (I picture her going to sniff and getting her nose bitten by this turtle – who could probably take a finger off) although she still isn’t interested. Upon closer examination it becomes clear to me why the turtle is not moving. She is straddling over this hole in the ground. The hole is about 5 to 6 inches around and I can see 2 mounds of dirt on either side of it that have been dug out from it. This mama turtle is laying her eggs there. Amazing! I go and tie Missy’s leash around the wire fence nearby and go back to watch. As I stand behind the turtle I see the eggs dropping out. I stayed and watched until she was done. I counted 13 eggs in about 20 minutes. The eggs are off white in color, round and smooth, and a bit smaller than a golf ball. After every 2 or 3 eggs the turtle reaches down – in slow motion like – with her rear leg (foot?) and, although I can’t see into the hole and so I can’t see the eggs after they have been dropped down there, I realize she is moving the eggs around to make room for more. I can’t believe I get to stand here and watch all of this. How lucky am I? (I have never even seen this on Discovery, although I’m sure it’s been documented.) When all her eggs have been laid and moved and situated just so, she begins to bury them. I am surprised to see that she doesn’t use any of the dirt that came out of the hole – the 2 mounds on either side – but rather she seems to be taking dirt from the sides of the hole. She stops every few seconds and packs it down. All of this is done with only her 2 rear legs.

I finally have to tear myself away because Missy still needs her morning walk, which I cut short. When I come back, the turtle is gone. There is still a little indent where the hole was and where the eggs now lay underground. Of course, I run home and Google snapping turtles to learn when I should expect the eggs to hatch, etc. I learn that the turtle will lay between 20 – 40 eggs and that it will take about 75 to 110 days before they hatch. The colder it is the longer it will take. I note the date – June 15th. The countdown begins. My immediate neighbors, Terry and Jack, had seen the turtle digging the hole at the beginning of their walk and I told my other neighbor (there are 3 homes down my common driveway, which forks at the bottom) Art all about it. I’m figuring October 5th is the drop dead date, although secretly I’m giving it until the 10th or so. (15th?) And now ---- we wait!

So, here are some little known (well little known to me until I Googled it) turtle facts for you to ponder – you know, while we wait. Well, we already know how many eggs and how long it takes for them to incubate, as mentioned above. Further, I have learned that the female turtle will just lay her eggs and will never, ever go back to check on them. She will never know if they hatched or not. She did her job, now she is done! The female turtle will walk a long way – well away from her habitat (pond, lake, etc) to lay her eggs. I guess there are more predators around the habitat area so being further away will give them a better chance of survival. The survival rate is very low for these poor little guys, which is why so many eggs are laid.

Well, October 5th of last year came and went and so did the 10th (and the 15th!) We were all pretty disappointed that no turtles were born. (Do you say they are “born” or do you say they hatched?) But as the year progressed, all was forgotten. (Not really, though.) And now that brings us to this past June 15th, a year later, when Art stopped in his truck to tell me the turtle was back.

Well, I ran into Art up at the mailboxes about a month ago around September 20th or so and I commented, (well, whined really) “No turtles?! No turtles, Art – No Turtles Arthur!” I complained, as if it was all his fault. He was responsible this year because he was the witness and so, the keeper – the guardian! (I guess last year it was my fault.) Although there was still time – it was only 9/20 - for some reason we were all skeptical and had been all along (I guess because last year’s batch didn’t take) and although we were disappointed by the non-event, we weren’t surprised. Maybe again next year? (Perhaps, still, in the next few weeks? I’m not giving up!)

Really though, I gotta say, I wasn’t disappointed at all. I still can’t believe I got to see a turtle lay her eggs!! I mean, how cool is that? Well, it’s very cool in my book. I never ever in my life would have thought or believed that I would see a turtle lay eggs! That was just amazing to me and I still picture it clearly in my mind. (Sorry, no pics – just memory) I think that just, plain ole, just seeing a snapping turtle that day – period – was awesome and would have been “enough” to make my day, (remember though, just seeing a cat makes my day! What is wrong with me?) But then – oh my gosh – seeing her lay the eggs and getting to stand there and watch – well, that is like beyond double icing on the cake for me! Unbelievable. Disappointed? Certainly not. I feel privileged, honored and -- ok I'll say it - blessed - to have witnessed such a thing.

To be continued? I hope so.