BJZ Poems and Musings

Living along the Huron River we often see snapping turtles and Eastern box turtles when kayaking in the river. After mating in the spring the females seek a place to lay and bury their eggs – in June in this area. Last June a large snapping turtle Mama crawled out of the river, traversed busy Huron River Drive and then slowly marched up our steep ridge. She settled in under our bird feeders and started digging with her back feet and I was excited to watch from the window and imagine a little regiment of turtle babies hatching and marching back down to the river. Alas, she dug but did not deposit, and then moved to another area at the edge of our lawn, and dug again, but did not lay eggs. She then went back down over the ridge and presumably chose a more secluded spot. I took a photo of her, below, and wrote this poem.

Turtle

how many of these June mornings,
warming, still, sun-dappled, are to come –
this month, this year, this life, this Earth –
are to come

I wonder
with wasted energy
subverting moments
of native appreciation
that might emerge
in a less restless mind

Yet, today, just beyond our patio
on the way to the bird feeders
I encountered a grand dame snapping turtle,
moss and algae on her weathered shell,
vigorously pushing away wood chips and soil
with her back legs, instincts commanding her
to try this place as a nest, to lay her eggs

some sense deemed this site not suitable,
another spot on my sorry lawn, also rejected,
and as she waddled away – did she once
seem to stop, tilt her head toward the sun,
and blissful, close her eyes?

yes, I anthropomorphize
her fleeting moment
of June day appreciation,
then ponder her wisdom –
nay, to bury those babies here

Brian J. Zink June 2025 Copyright rules apply