Turtles, especially snapping turtles, just look prehistoric. I’ve seen enough Jurassic Park to know that they’re only a few loose strands of DNA away from hunting me and my family in packs.
This shy mother to be in my front flower bed is no exception. Don’t be fooled by her egg-passing countenance; this is one fierce creature of doom. Oh sure, her eyes are gorgeous. Pools of liquid love? No. More like dark pools of La Brea tarpit, rich with the imprinted pre-history of her carnivorous family tree.
And what a fine shell! Green with algae. How old do you have to be to actually grow algae? I’ve spent many a weekend just laying on the couch and only turning to prevent bedsores and I’ve never actually sprouted anything. This is a creature that happily lies in wait…. for a toe or perhaps a shoelace to lash at, mashing flesh and/or cotton like an old man with applesauce.
Well, I gave her a wide berth for her birthing. I value my flip flops and long ago learned to protect them from prehistoric pouncing.