HAMPTON UNION (Portsmouth, New Hampshire) 23 October 07 Small Pond: Name the Small Pond snapping turtle (Amy Kane)
The swamp maples are the first to go. A blaze of color then the fires are out. So every day I walk out to the pond and look across the field at the slow motion fireworks of the changing leaves.
After months of sparse rainfall, the water level in our pond has never been lower. The newly exposed mud around the edges is growing scattered blades of new green grass.
I spotted our elusive pond monster hauled out on the mud beach one morning. Loch Ness has Nessie, Champ reputedly lurks in Lake Champlain, and Chessie sightings occur in the Chesapeake Bay. Small Pond has a large snapping turtle, as yet unnamed. Any suggestions?
If you have never seen a snapping turtle, go online and Google a photo. They are ugly and mean, with fat dinosaur tails, long snake-like heads, and fierce snapping snouts. Their disposition is seriously unpleasant.
A large adult snapper can bite off a finger or toe. When they grab hold of something, they don't let go. The best way to pick one up, if you must, is with a snow shovel. They don't make good pets.
Snappers live for about 30 years and can weigh 30 to 50 pounds when full grown. They are omnivorous, eating almost anything they can graze, scavenge or catch. Think alligator at the watering hole. According to the fossil record they have looked the same for 2 million years.
Our monster turtle is undisputed king of the pond. Like Yertle, the bossy Dr. Seuss turtle who is ruler of all he can see. One day I hope to get a photo of the beast.
In the garden by the pond, rotten tomatoes form a decorative carpet, absurdly large zucchinis continue to swell and the chickadees are fearlessly dedicated to sunflower seed snacking.
Our big harvest success this year is a batch of Cinderella pumpkins, so named for the fairy tale coach that takes the aspiring princess to the ball. Cinderella pumpkins are vibrant orange and shaped exactly like they were drawn by Disney animators.
Ducks, geese and heron are visiting, and migrating hawks spiral overhead. I watched a big buck deer trot purposefully across the field the other afternoon, antlered head held high, on a mission. Romance is in the air.
The woods smell like a good tobacconist's shop, black tea, leaf mulch, garden soil and smoke.
Some of us yearn for the sharp smell of woodsmoke as the evenings turn cold. But, warning: Even a small patio chimenea, sturdily constructed of genuine Mexican clay, requires an official state permit to kindle fire. We learned that one afternoon when a truck from our local fire department pulled up out front.
Permits are free and good for the calendar year in our town; we can only have fires after 5 p.m.; and we must call the fire station to let them know we're in the mood for kindling. Autumn is the most decorative season. Christmas is crass and gaudy by comparison. (And people leave their lights, wreaths and ribbons up for too long.) I love autumn and pumpkins on porches, corn shocks bundled on lamp posts, mums across the land!
And, gloriously, nature far outshines our Martha Stewart moments. The trees are like bouquets of giant chrysanthemums. Black crows perch in a lemon yellow birch. Maples burn scarlet against a cool blue sky. Green apples hang like moons fallen and caught in the branches of a tree.
At any moment, maybe today, peak will pass and the leaves will begin to shower like jewels in a harvest of beauty. It's a gorgeous time of year.
Amy Kane is a writer living in North Hampton. To suggest a name for the snapping turtle that rules Small Pond, visit her blog at amykane.typepad.com and comment, or e-mail her at amykane@comcast.net.
Name the Small Pond snapping turtle