My niece lives in a densely populated neighborhood in Maryland. She bought her house last fall from a guy who had lived there for 15 years. When he sold her the house, he made her promise to be careful when she cut the lawn, because there was a phantom box turtle that periodically showed up out of the blue in the back yard. He had seen this turtle many times over the entire fifteen years. My niece hadn't seen the turtle all spring, so she figured the guy was hallucinating. I saw my niece at a party on July 4th and the first thing I asked her was "Have you seen your turtle?" Her eyes got like saucers and she said "I can't believe you just asked me that, I saw him this morning in the middle of the back yard!" It had rained during the night. She said she and her boyfriend snuck up close and the turtle was moving it's back legs really weirdly and looked like it was sitting in a hole. She went back inside and went back out an hour later and the turtle was gone and so was the hole. I told her it was a female laying eggs. She called her boyfriend and told him to cover the hole with something. I told her I'd come over the next day and dig up the eggs to incubate. The rest of the family got in on the story and we decided to have a pool to guess how many eggs would come out of the hole. I told them there could be as few as one and as many as eight or nine. The guesses ranged from one to seventeen. My brother guessed seventeen (he had been drinking). I guessed three (I was also drinking, but less). The next evening I went over to my niece's house to do the excavation. She assisted. She watched me like a hawk to verify the count, fearing I may cheat to gain an advantage. Her boyfriend had covered the nest with a flower box. The hole was well concealed, but we located it. When the digging was done, there were, in fact, three eggs. I won!....nothing. There was no prize, just bragging rights. I looked around the tiny yard and the contiguous yards and couldn't believe that a wild box turtle had survived there for years. If you go 50 yards in any direction, you hit a street. Not just a street, but streets that have curbs with every square inch taken up by parallel-parked cars. If this turtle ever made it into the street, she'd never get out alive. This told me that she lived in a microscopically tiny area, and had to be close by. There are no ponds, streams, or puddles within walking distance of where the eggs were laid. There are no vegetable gardens, berry bushes, or other obvious sources of vegetative food sources. Lots of back porch lights to attract bugs, I guess. The only trees and shrubs are ones planted by homeowners and landscapers. As we were finishing up with the eggs, I looked at a dense patch of pachysandra, maybe six feet by fifteen feet along her back property line, about ten feet from where the eggs were laid. I said "I bet she lives right there." My niece was scanning the perimeter, hoping to catch a glimpse of shell. I walked over to the pachysandra patch and started poking around. About five seconds into this, I saw her shell down in the leaves. Mystery solved. We picked her up and she was heavy and very healthy looking. From the looks of her shell, I guessed she was probably alive before the neighborhood was built in the 1970s. We put her right back in the same spot where she was sleeping. I told my niece that she had either been living in the immediate area when the trees were cleared for the development, or her mother had laid eggs in one of the yards and she hatched and survived all these years, pretty much completely isolated from what anybody would consider a suitable habitat.
Well, I have the eggs in the incubator. I'll be shocked and amazed if they're fertile, because I find it hard to believe she could locate a male, or vice versa, in that back yard. I guess if she figured out how to stay alive all those years among the lawn mowers and cars, maybe she's resourceful enough to figure a way to attract a boyfriend. We'll see in week or so when I candle the eggs.