By KAREN MADORIN
Frequently, I watch ornate box turtles crossing country roads or highways. Because I like this pack-its-own-home reptile, I dodge such speed bumps. While their slow lumber across the road triggers a smile, I hadn’t thought much about these Kansas state reptiles until recently when a fond memory knocked on my mental door.
That particular summer, I awakened early every day to enjoy cool mornings as I watered, weeded, and picked veggies. A bonus of rising with the sun included meeting yard neighbors that hide during the heat of the day.
One such friend was a good-sized box turtle that hung out under my rose bushes in the mornings. I’d seen her a couple of times, and that day we met officially. This particular terrapene ornata - according to scientists - was at the larger end of expected sizes for its species. I’d guess its shell was three to four inches across and five or six inches long. I didn’t have a measuring tape on hand at 6:30 a.m. for an official accounting, but she was bigger than most turtles I’d seen navigating Kansas roadways.
This reptile’s shell was dark with distinct yellow markings on the scutes or plates. Before she tucked her head inside her shell, I noted yellowish rather than reddish-orange eyes, which verified she met “she” criteria.
Like all box turtles, she had a hinged plastron that let her tuck her head and limbs safely inside her shell. This ability frustrated hungry coyotes and other predators, but it doesn’t stop a vehicle cruising down the highway, this creature’s worst enemy. The minute she sensed me heading her way, she retracted everything tuckable until she resembled nothing more than a pet rock.
Ignoring her desperate attempt to achieve introverted solitude, I placed my hands carefully along each lower side of her shell and examined her beauty close-up. Like any unhappy female, she promptly got even. With head and legs still safely hidden inside her shell, she peed, which made me jump backward to avoid a splattering.
Once I finished inspecting her masterpiece of black and yellow shell, I rewarded this pretty girl. I set a couple of pieces of melon in front of her so there would be a little something to make her day when she finally popped her head out. Apparently, she can smell and likes cantaloupe because it vanished in the short time I took to climb upstairs where I could spy on her out the kitchen window.
After researching box turtle factoids, I saw why she preferred her flowerbed home. It was damp with lots of available sow bugs or roly-polies and other insects to meet her carnivorous dietary needs. That summer the temperature was more agreeable in that shady corner than most places in the yard. Containing the softest soil on old hilltop, it also offered a perfect site to dig in for winter hibernation, which might explain my new friend’s greater than average size.
Once we’d met, I offered a daily serving of melon or fruit to enhance her diet. With room service like that, this lady was glad to call that eastern corner of Trego County home and continued to show up every summer. I wonder if my walking work of art still shows up for the family that followed us and how big she grew.
Karen Madorin is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and sixth-generation Kansan.