Every year around the summer solstice the great old snapping turtle emerges from the marsh, finds our mulch pile, and lays her clutch of eggs there. And every year we try to note where she does this so we don’t disturb them. We’ve seen the eggs, but we’ve never seen any babies.
We call him (him?) Franklin. I almost stepped on him in the driveway of the nursery, heading for the chicken coop. It was cold yesterday and he was quite sluggish, so we put him back on the newly delivered steaming mulch pile, hoping that he’ll warm up there and then find a warm sunny day for heading to the marsh or doing whatever baby snapping turtles do.
We’re thrilled. I went out and scoured the yard looking for siblings, but none appeared. From the time of the solstice to the time of the equinox almost.
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