Fern Glen Essays
In which Lewis Carroll pays a visit...
by Judy Sullivan

It lumbers out of the pond, body streaming water and vegetation dripping from its jaws. Fearsome in its aspect, it treads the turf with arrogant deliberation born of predatory confidence. Frogs leap at its approach and small mammals swiftly inventory their appendages. It is the present past. An armor-plated time tunnel. A Stephen King reel to real.

Beware the Chelydra, my son. The jaws that bite. The claws that catch.

Chelydra serpentina. A moniker reflecting mythic influence, it combines the Greek chelone, for turtle, with hydra, homage to the ill tempered, nine-headed water serpent of mythology (whose name, in turn, is derived from hydor, the word for water).

We might assume that the species name serpentina refers to the beast's neck of astonishing proportions that can whip its head about to nip unwary fingers. As the suffix "ina" means "of," or "resembling," that assumption is correct. However, the word "serpent" is actually from the Latin serpere, "to creep," referring to gait, rather than snaky similarity.

Oblivious to this etymological mire, beamish boys took vorpal swords in hand to slay the fearsome Chelydra. Modern day slayers simply use an automobile.

Chelydra serpentina. The snapping turtle. A species that has withstood millennia of climatic disasters now falls victim, like so many others, to the predatory paradigm of "progress."

Few animals relish the challenge of tackling a spirited adult, although there are regional epicureans for whom sautéed snapper surpasses caviar. Most of us consider contemplating what lies beneath the shell of a turtle like plumbing the depths of a mysterious navel.

Unlike southern specimens, snappers hailing from northern climes don't reach sexual maturity until between 12 and 16 years of age and can remain capable of reproduction for another 20. As a result, they are blissfully unaware of any environmental pressure to produce a horde of little snappers. Indeed, those eggs that the females now cross highways to lay are a delicacy to raccoons, skunks, coyotes and snakes. A clutch of 25 or more eggs results in no more than a couple of live hatchlings. These make attractive little appetizers, as well.

Longevity, combined with their slow rate of increase, makes these living fossils particularly sensitive to the ravages of careless driver and galumphing gourmet, not to mention the illicit collector of wild specimens for the pet trade. Even small amounts of such "harvesting" can result in the swift decline of a population that can't replace its own loss.

Our eyes glitter as our arms circumscribe an imaginary circle the size of a manhole cover. In hushed voices, we warn our children of the dangers of swimming in murky waters where tiny toes are swallowed whole. We nervously lick our lips, recounting alarming tales of innocent ducklings that disappeared beneath the algae coated surface, never to be seen again.

The Chelydra with eyes of flame came whiffling through the tulgey wood and burbled as it came.

Stuff and nonsense! Would we begrudge the bobcat its rabbit or the hawk its vole? An unroasted duck is no less acceptable. We've not yet included the fish, the tadpoles, the rodents and the copious quantities of vegetation (yes, vegetation) consumed by these monsters of the not-so-deep. Misunderstood and slandered, the snapper remains shy in water and only acts to defend itself on land.

One, two! One, two!
And through and through
The vorpal steel belts went snicker-snack!

And hast thou slain a Chelydra? Let it not be so. Watch beneath your wheels.

Questions, comments, or other feedback to Judy Sullivan.