Saturday’s trip started out on a sad note. Coming down Maple Dam Road about a mile before hitting Shorty’s Wharf, a painted turtle had ventured onto the road to get to the other side. I saw it last minute and swerved to straddle it. Before I could safely stop so we could back up and try to save it, the car behind us splattered it.
Yup, it’s that time of year again. The weather is warming up and the turtles are stirring out of hibernation. It’s also the time of year when Keith gets super pissed off at all the people down here blindly racing through the roads and running the turtles over.
“If I were governor, I’d kick all these people out of here. This is a wildlife refuge. If you can’t respect nature enough to go slow and pay attention to what’s in the road, your ass needs to be kicked out of here.”
Can’t say I don’t agree with him. I got lucky and saw the turtle last minute and was able to miss him. From that point on, I drove slowly expecting to find more turtles in the road. The car behind me not only killed the turtle, but kept on going at a high speed as if there wouldn’t be any more turtles in the road.
People like that should be shot. That’s why Keith would make the better governor. He’d just kick them out.
As we approached Shorter’s Wharf, I slowed down even slower. That stretch just before the bridge is a notorious turtle crossing area. Last year at this time, almost daily we’d have to stop and move a few turtles to the other side. Then in June to July, we’d always have to stop to help the babies across the road. Keith saved a half dozen or more baby terrapins one day, last summer.
A couple of weeks ago, we finally figured out what is so special about that particular stretch of road to the turtles. Sandy Island Road, an unpaved road, cuts through the marsh there. We decided to see where it went. It led to high country, high by Toddville’s standards. The hilltop must sit a good four or five feet above sea level.
On top of the hill is a cemetery. Someone was buried there last summer, so it must still be an active cemetery. It also contained the oldest grave we have seen. Someone was buried there in 1794.For the turtles, the most important feature of the area other than being high ground is that the soil is sandy. The cemetery is a perfect nursery for the turtles to lay their eggs. In the spring, the adults cross Maple Dam road to get to the nursery. In the summer, the newly hatched babies head back across the road to open water.
Now, a good writer would easily depict the irony of this place with beautiful words and flowing prose. I’ve never professed to be a good writer, so I’ll let you, the reader, connect the dots of how a final resting place for us, a solemn place where the dead lay, is a joyful, life-giving place for the turtles.
Life truly does go on.I don’t know how many miles we covered Saturday. Other than the turtle, the trip was rather uneventful. And out of those million plus wood ducks supposedly in the Atlantic Flyway, we saw none.
Yesterday, we headed out to go grocery shopping. We decided not to look for any wood ducks. I drove slowly through the marsh in case there were any turtles, but the weather turned colder and no turtles were out.
When we hit the high country nearer to Cambridge, I sped up. We crossed the little stream and, out of the corner of Keith’s eye, he saw a brightly colored duck. It was only a fleeting glimpse, but I turned around and came back.
The ducks were gone.
“I know I saw a wood duck. It was like a mallard, only its body was blunter and I saw bright red.”
I stopped the car at the stream and we got out to scan the area closer. Wood duck nesting boxes lined the stream as far as we could see. There were no ducks around, but obviously, this was the place to see them. And by Keith’s description of what he caught a glimpse of, there is at least one pair nesting there. It’s only a matter of time before we will get to see one in more than a fleeting glimpse.
It’s funny how we cross that stream every day and never noticed the wood duck nesting boxes nor saw any ducks. We’re always in a hurry to get to work or get our shopping done that we never slowed down to appreciate what this little wooded stream might offer. We learned an important lesson in appreciating nature. Never take any area for granted. Pay attention to it. What you are looking for may very well be in the place you least expect it.
© 2007
Mark Darien
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