The Turtle King

I could see it feeding below the edge of the lilly pads, and had to approach slowly. The toes of my bare foot rested just inches above the water as I stood on the corner and paddled towards the slimy edge where the biggest turtle id ever seen in my pond lay. The afternoon sun was bright and it made his dark mossy back show up against the lime green carpet of weeds that covered the bottom. It was my own pond. I was the turtle king. This turtle was elusive and I had only ever seen him twice before. He was nearly 2 feet across the back of his brown and green moss covered shell. His head was bigger than my fist and the claws on his feet seemed like knives to my eight year old eyes. As I approached the snapper from behind I sensed my advantage, and paddled harder, but soon realized the increasing tsunami created by the blunt hull of the paddle boat was heading straight towards him. I saw his reaction as the wave rolled over the turtle and through the scum. I slammed the long handle of the salmon net as far into the slop in front the turtle as I could. If the handle was thrust at just the right angle, keeping the basket horizontal, the long net would flip over the basket and make it through the slop fairly clean. When the rim of the net hit the soft bottom I drug it back quickly, hoping to have my prize. I felt the weight immediately upon pulling, and realized through the increasing cloud of black muck, that I had more than a pile of weeds. It was jerking and making the handle throb with each kick of its sharp feet. Sensing victory, I pulled hard through the weeds and nearly fell over. For a moment as I searched for my footing, I lost my grip on the net, but quickly regained my hold and pulled it in. I emptied the black oily contents of the basket into the footwell of the paddle boat but there was no turtle, only weeds and muck, and one minnow. I looked around the boat trying to find the edge of the muck clouding the water to get a glimpse of him as he swam off. I never saw him, or anything that big in the pond again, and I looked hard for 2 more years. 

I did manage to catch, name, and release just about every turtle in the pond. I was the turtle king, and they were all mine. After school, I would hunt them until I heard my mom yell for dinner. Sometimes I would manage to sneak away right before church and stalk the shoreline in my khakis and dress shoes. Usually I was right back there after church to hunt.
There were 7 other homes that lined just one side of it, leaving the opposite shoreline in a wild overgrown state. I was the only one who ever used it. This pond is the place of my first memory of chasing and catching wild animals. It is one of the most vivid childhood memories I can recall. I learned to fish in this pond, catching bullheads and bluegills. It was the turtles i remember most though. I would catch them, bring them up and dump them onto the patio behind the house. I would inspect and name each one, and write the name with sharpie marker on the white bellies. I found that the size, shape of the shell, length of the tail and claws, as well as the color of the skin could vary greatly for turtles living in the same pond. Some of these painter turtles were up to 12 inches across, but most were 4 to eight inches in diameter. Some which I named ‘Ninja’, and Ninja 2, or Ninja 3, and so on, would have huge claws in proportion to their medium sized bodies. These were my favorite. Id release them, and catch them over and over, season after season with the names faded to varying degrees. Id touch up their names and soon had caught them all over 4 inches. The last year I lived there, by the end of the summer, I couldn't find a turtle that wasn't already named. I was the turtle king. But my reign lasted only 3 years. After that 3rd summer, we moved to a house that bordered some state land, and my turtle kingdom was no more. I quickly learned to pursue other animals, and for a few years, snakes were my thing, but that is another story.