1955: Stinkpots in the Shallows

Dusk had long fallen, bats were erratically flitting low over the water, and a moonless night was already enveloping the little lake in Springfield, Massachusetts, where I had been harassing a population of eastern painted turtles for several hours. I had decided it was time to head home for a late supper. Docking and securing the old wooden rowboat I was using required the use of a flashlight, its batteries so used that the beam hardly showed.

As the boat nudged the dock and I grabbed the tie-rope I glanced down into the shallow water just in time to see a smoothly oval “stone” scuttling across the plant-free bottom. And then the flashlight dieWhat had I seen?

d.

I grabbed my bike and quickly rode the half mile home, hoping as I rode that I had a couple of replacement batteries and that I wouldn’t have to delay my return to the pond for supper. I lucked out. Supper was waiting, a set of new batteries was found, and a few minutes later I was on my way back to the lake.

Almost sooner than it takes to tell this tale I was back on the dock, sweeping the sandy lake bottom with my flashlight beam. Within seconds I had locked onto one of the moving stones. Little and black, I could now see a pointed nose on one end and a stubby tail on the other.

Between these were the little black legs that propelled the creature in bursts of speed between which it foraged agilely and avidly on the bottom. A soggy piece of bread discarded by a fisherman, a broken half of worm, a portion of a dead shiner—as I watched, all proved grist for the mill of this little turtle—a common musk turtle, Sternotherus odoratus, aka the Stinkpot.

I was soon soaked to the skin but before returning home that night I had seen and inspected more than half dozen. It was an educational introduction to a species I had never even imagined dwelt in our area.

Author, photographer, and columnist Richard Bartlett is one of the most prolific writers on herpetological subjects in the 20th century. With hundreds of books and articles to their credit, Richard and his wife Pat have spent over four decades documenting reptiles both in the field and in captivity. For a list of their current titles, please visit their page in our bookstore.