MEDFORD MAIL TRIBUNE (Medford, Oregon) 29 May 03 Orphan Pond is a refuge for these turtles (Mark Freeman)
Simon Wray pulls a wire-mesh trap through the muck of a high-mountain pond, then reaches inside for the reptilian reward awaiting him.
A tiny western pond turtle, perhaps 3 years old, wiggles as Wray runs his hands over the shell. It has none of the artificial notches that Wray, a biologist, uses to identify captured turtles.
"I’ve never seen this little guy before," Wray says.
Wray pulls out a file and notches one of the shell scutes halfway up the turtle’s left side. And with that the turtle is officially dubbed No. 70, the newest rare reptile that owes his life to Wray.
No. 70 is the latest western pond turtle hatched in the Orphan Pond near Ashland, where Wray has turned a small group of formerly homeless turtles into a viable breeding ground for this near-threatened species.
Started 10 years ago as a place to house wayward turtles seized as pets or otherwise separated from their natural population, the Orphan Pond is now producing babies at rates not normally seen in the wild.
As many as 29 of the Orphan Pond’s 62 known turtles were hatched and bred there in recent years, whereas turtle populations elsewhere sport mainly old turtles and few young ones.
The key, Wray says, is that the Orphan Pond has no bullfrogs and few of the natural predators that have contributed to the western pond turtle’s decline, much to the satisfaction of the pond’s patriarch.
"When I started this, I thought it had potential and it’s lived up to everything I had hoped for," Wray says. "This pond has the potential to be one of the most productive ponds in the state."
Western pond turtles are the only turtle native to the Rogue Valley. They once numbered in the millions and spread across much of the far western states, inhabiting rivers and streams as well as the muddy stillwaters that give them their name.
But dwindling wetland habitat and predation have taken their toll.
A 1991 Rogue Basin survey found western pond turtles in just 8.5 percent of their normal habitat. Biologists also are alarmed that the majority of populations are composed of turtles 20 years or older, with just a few immature ones in the mix.
The species was petitioned for listing under the federal Endangered Species Act but lost out because overall turtle numbers were deemed high enough that the species did not risk extinction in the near future.
Still, the turtles are categorized in Oregon as a sensitive species, meaning they cannot legally be kept or purposely killed. Any pond turtle seized as a pet or found in some strange place — and they do show up in some very strange places — gets shipped to the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife.
One was seized from a Medford man who kept it as a pet and even had punched a hole in its shell so the turtle could be tethered to a tree. Another was found sleeping under Santa’s thrown in storage at the Rogue Valley Mall.
If ODFW biologists like Wray know exactly where the turtle comes from, they put it back. But introducing a new turtle to a native group risks spreading a respiratory disease known to wipe out whole colonies.
"So I started rounding up the little guys and putting them here," Wray says.
"Here" is a small pond on private land overlooking Pilot Rock high in the Cascades east of Ashland. The pond had no non-native fish or bullfrogs, had one known turtle and an owner interested in having more.
Since 1993, Wray has placed 29 wayward turtles in the pond.
Each have one or more notches on their shells and are labeled by a sophisticated coding system that places numeric values on each shell scute. Codes vary from No. 7,056 for a broken-shelled turtle that was the first orphan released there, to No. 1, a turtle first caught as a 3-year-old in 2001.
For the first five years, the Orphan Pond was a refuge bulging with number-coded turtles, but it was no biological success story. Then, in 1998, Wray saw his first sign of reproduction when he caught a young turtle without a notch.
"I’ve got natural reproduction," Wray says. "That was big."
It’s since become bigger.
In annual Orphan Pond surveys, Wray regularly captures as many first-timers as veterans.
This week, he caught 13 turtles in the pond, and seven were previously caught turtles — including the male once tethered to a tree. The six new ones, including No. 70, are all between 3 and 5 years old — all born since 1998.
"It’s my hope that, eventually, this pond will be the source population that will radiate out and replenish some of this other habitat where the populations are now lost," Wray says.
It’s possible that the Orphan Pond could become a victim of its own success. Adding new turtles annually was once a solution. Now, it could become a problem.
"As it gets bigger and bigger and more healthier, I don’t want to risk this population by introducing disease," Wray says. "All you need is one sick turtle. So it will still be the Orphan Pond."
Yet its newest residents, like No. 70, have bona fide parents somewhere in the muck.
Wray logs No. 70’s measurements, then sets him down in the grass.
"Some of them will sit there for half an hour," Wray says. "Others, as soon as you put them down, they boogie.
"Turtles aren’t something you normally think of as having personalities, but they do."
Orphan Pond is a refuge for these turtles