… has, like essentially everything else this year, from wood frog
breeding to wild plum flowering, come early and immediately exploded
into full activity. On 23 May I went out to the center of turtle
nesting that I have looked in on, with from sporadic to intense day-by-
day dedication for some three decades. This is the area favored by
painted, snapping, spotted and Blanding’s turtles (the latter not at
all numerous, but a key component). The wood turtle nesting places are
about 2.5 miles distant, understandably in the vicinity of their
wintering, breeding, etc. stream reaches. Immediately upon entering I
saw a nest chamber that a painted turtle had dug, but abandonded, and
all around I saw trails of these turtles in fine sand, and other trial
nest excavations, as well as one or two likely completed nests. And
among these was the trail of a snapping turtle, quite obviously a
female exploring for a nest site. As I followed her circuitous route I
came upon a hatchling painted turtle on his or her nest-to-water
journey. “Just like in the book”, I said to myself, in reference to my
writing about how in some years hatchlings are emerging from nests in
which they have overwintered at the same time females are setting out
to nest again; a remarkable ecological overlapping. I resumed my
tracing of the snapping turtle’s activity, written rather clearly in
the sand, and came to her completed nest. I believe this is earlier by
some measure than I have previously observed a nest-completion by a
snapping turtle here; they generally lay their eggs deeper into June,
and even July. I made all of these observations within six minutes or
so of beginning to search the sandy terrain. The previous evening, on
a walk up to my “altiplano” garden; I saw that the yellow hawkweed/
king devil
(Hieracium aurantiacum, unless the nomenclature has been changed since
my wildflower-identification days) was beginning to bloom, and
repeated to Laurette my adage, “When the yellow hawkweed blooms,
turtles are nesting”. And indeed they were; I searched historic wood
turtle nesting sites associated with the East Stream and found what I
am 90% certain were three completed nests, and one I was 50% certain
of, as well as several other sites that turtles had explored without
committing eggs yet. This is not uncommon with wood turtles, who may
dig over a period of several days before settling on a nest site.

I have made only one search at dawn for spotted turtles in the process
of completing nests on which they have worked through the night,
finding none. My one such expedition last June, as I acted on an
intuition, or sense that the seasonal pattern and conditions of the
overnight were favorable, was exceptionally well-rewarded, as I found
three in the final stages of nest-completion.

This morning as I drove to the Hopkinton Library to take down my
exhibition of handbound books and sketch books from over the (many)
years, I saw a snapping turtle heading east on Route 103 in Warner,
not just crossing the state highway (perilous enough) but traveling
down the middle of the east-bound lane. It was a classic snapping
turtle nesting morning, warm and still, overcast, with a slight shower
having passed, and rain portended
(alas it never came, and this dry spring continues to be as droughty
as August). The turtle was wet and muddy; I am not sure where she came
from that could have had her not be dried out, as there are not
wetlands within close range of the direction from which I am sure she
came. I pulled over, got out and approached her, there happily being
no cars coming along for some minutes. Also happily, she turned,
picked up her pace, and crossed in fairly short order to the other
side of the road. It was so interesting to watch her movements – body
language, if you will – as she went from her migration/nest-search
scanning (hazardously from a highway lane) to a sort of
get-out-of-here shuffle at my approach, with her head pulled in, hind
legs high-stepping, to a decided slowdown and read-the-situation-again
mode once she reached the sandy road edge. (How sand must speak to
nest-seeking turtles.) As she began her slow, deliberate ascent of the
sparsely vegetated highway banking (reindeer lichen here and there;
scant stands of sweetfern) I could just see her – completely ignoring
me now – begin to read the sloping sandy terrain, could sense the the
shiftings in her mission responses. She moved ever more slowly
upgrade; it was as though the feel of the earth beneath her led to
recognition. Although she did not lower her head to touch her chin to
the ground, or make any swipes at and tossings of the sand with her
front claws – common gestures for nest-exploring snapping turtles – I
got the clearest feeling that she was beginning her nest-site
analysis. I went on my way, completed my own mission, and came back
along the roadway, pulling over to see if I could spot her again.
After a couple of minutes I made her out, settled into sand and
reindeer lichen near the crest of the slope, her position strongly
suggesting that she had without much delay decided on her nest site
and was depositing her eggs, or was very close to doing so.

So, yes, an early start, but the season will extend. In the face of
unavoidable irresolution, I look to bear witness to at least some
aspects of it.