Reptile-Amphibian #19 — Stinkpot

sternotherus odoratus

Thursday, June 26, 2008 — 6:53 pm

Cary, Illinois — Route 14

I strolled across the Fox River to Fox River Grove to take photos. On the way back, I spotted this small turtle in the grass right next to the sidewalk. (It can be seen in the foreground of the photo on the right.) It allowed me to take close-up photos and even pick it up. It backed into its shell and made no attempt to fend me off.

I make a point of that because the turtle was a Stinkpot, one of the musk turtles. Two of the things it’s known for are biting and emitting foul-smelling fluid from glands under its shell (hence the name). This turtle did neither, which was fine with me.

A backwater of the Fox River was perhaps 40 yards away through some scrubby woods, so finding a turtle in the general area wasn’t a total shock. I suspect it was looking for a place to lay its eggs (which would, I suppose, make it a female).

I noticed two things about it right off. First, its shell was filthy. Second, it looked very sad.

So I grabbed a leaf off a nearby vine and gave the shell a spit polish. As you can see, this made it a very happy turtle. I think.

After subjecting it to all this abuse, I put it down near where I found it, but pointing away from the road. In the 15 minutes that I watched, it did nothing whatsoever.

Stinkpots rarely leave the water, except to lay eggs and occasionally to bask on waterside logs. They’re also known for walking on the bottom of ponds and streams instead of swimming. One of my books says, “If a turtle ever falls on your head … it probably will be this one.” That’s because, with their small shells, they can get higher up into trees. This one is probably full-grown. They rarely grow more than five-inches long.

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When Life Gives you Mosquitoes …

One evening in late June, I went for a walk to search for wildlife to photograph. The only wildlife I found was mosquitoes, and so …

Yes, that's my arm.

Taken with Super-Macro!

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Carnival Lights

As the sun set, I tried to capture the romance of carnival lights against the sky.

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Continuing a Tradition

Last summer I bought a deep-fried Snickers at the local summer carnival and so began a tradition. This year I was determined to try a deep-fried Twinkie. I had a choice of booths from which to purchase it, but when I saw this sign I knew this was the place for me. The price was $3.00.

If it's bad for you, they sell it.

Were you paying attention?

Sandwhat?Hold the chees, pleas.

When I took this photo of the guy preparing my Twinkie, a woman who was in another part of the booth asked, “What are you DOING?” It’s hard for me to convey her tone of voice — It wasn’t as though she was upset. It was more like she thought I was acting like an idiot.

Twinkie dipping.

I pointed at the guy and said, “That’s my Twinkie!” I then explained my annual tradition of buying something fried. She totally caught on and encouraged me to try her booth next summer because she’s planning on adding deep-fried dill pickles. I’m there.

How was the Twinkie? It was covered with powdered sugar and was a tiny bit crunchy on the outside. The white stuff in the center (whatever it is) was still cold — like refrigerated cold — which made the taste and texture strange. And over all, it didn’t have much taste. The Snickers was better.

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