Archives of The Cold Blooded News

The Newsletter of the Colorado Herpetological Society

Volume 29, Number 10;   October, 2002

Catching Turtles in their Backyard Pond

by Peg Meier

But it's Kristin who has refined the game into a sophisticated catch-and-release program, with charts and slats and naming rights. Now the boys catch; she records. In the shallow pond in their Apple Valley back yard, the family has made hundreds of catches of 85 turtles. (They're of the variety called painted turtles; snapping turtles are left alone.) Some are captured over and over again.

Others are exciting first-timers. The family carefully numbers, names and notches the turtles, measures them and records pertinent information on a big wall chart.

That way the Gees know that No. 42, Cunning, who was caught recently, hadn't been seen since last August. His undershell is still 5 3/4 inches across, despite a yummy diet of duck weed and water bugs. That way they've noticed that No. 4, Stripy, seems to show up with No. 48, Dazzly. They wonder if the two are performing some kind of courtship ritual because they swim together in wild circles. If they're mating, they do it discreetly at the bottom of the pond.

That way they know that No. 2, Valiant, has been caught 15 times, sometimes twice in one day. They don't know if she's slow, curious, eager to run away from home or what.

Three boys, many turtles

The Gee boys - Derek, 11; Nathan, 8, and Peter, 5 - are home schooled and are learning biology with the turtle project. But Derek explained that it's all just for fun, not the beginning of a career path or anything. (He and Nathan expect to work with computers, like their dad.)

Turtle 101 started in the summer of 2000 when Nathan, out in the paddle boat, caught a turtle with his bare hands. He's the family's nature kid, and he had wanted to begin an elaborate butterfly project. His mom talked him into a turtle project instead.

Painted turtles love shallow ponds with thick mud on the bottom, such as the Gees' one-acre pond. The Gees believe them to be intelligent and alert, with excellent eyesight and keen smell but no visible ears. At first the boys weren't interested in putting the turtles back into the pond. Buckets filled up. Then came the idea to mark the turtles and let them go at the end of the day's hunt. Black permanent markers didn't work. Neither did nail polish. Kristin suggested notching the outer rim of their top shell, and it turns out that's how some real biologists mark turtles. The naming ritual began early. Some names were supplied by the Gees, some by other kids invited on turtle hunts, some by grandparents and other relatives.

In honor of the Minnesota Twins, there's Kirby (for Puckett) and Mientkiewicz.

No. 51 is Pawlenty, for Republican gubernatorial candidate Tim Pawlenty, a friend from church who used to care for baby Peter in the Woodcrest Church nursery. Kristin said of Pawlenty, "He's a man of integrity and humility, and so is this turtle."

There's Al Gee (get it? algae) and Finally (who was the first catch after almost two hours one cloudy day) and Michi-kini-qua (meaning little turtle) and Scratchy (apparently roughed up in a fight). And Ate. Peter was only 2 when his mom said, "Look Peter. Here's No. 8. You can name him." Peter contemplated. "Eight," he decided, triumphantly. His big brothers changed the name to Ate. Little kids, the Gees have noted, like to bestow animal names on turtles, such as Big Rabbit and Octopus.

There was Cinderella, who now lives (we hope, still lives) in the Mississippi River. A neighbor asked to take the turtle home for a few days. The Gees considered Cinderella a loaner, but the neighbor decided to release her into the river. Two other loaners were let go by friends into other ponds. O.K., it's really silly, Kristin acknowledges, but she's kind of hurt when people liberate her family's turtles. She tells herself, "Don't get too emotionally involved. They're only turtles." And she's really not the outdoorsy type, she insists. But when you get invested in turtles.... "I never understood why people like to fish until I got to catch turtles," she said. "It's the thrill of the hunt."

Now her friends and family, who speculate that she may have gone overboard on turtles, give her replicas of turtles in wood, jade, plastic, anything.

Only Nathan has literally gone overboard on turtles. One fine July day this year the turtles were elusive, and he was trying really hard to find one for his cousin. He leaned over the front of the paddle boat a bit too far and did a nice graceful plunge into the water. He quickly popped back into the boat, safe but soaked, all in the name of science.