When I first saw this photo, I was so drawn to it. The critter companions that I carried home when I was a child were often turtles. I considered them all temporary guests and would make sure to see them well placed back in their original homes after they had a brief visit with me. The turtle that taught me to do this, I carried to a reservoir not far from my home, so that it could get a drink. I believed it was thirsty. I held the turtle’s shell tight, thinking that I would just allow it to drink and then carry it back to my home. As soon as it touched the water, however, it gave one strong push with it’s legs and off it swam with great joy… free from the clasping hands of a friendly, but silly, two-legged child.
My father dug a hole in the center of our vegetable garden and covered the bottom of the hole with a plastic liner to make a wading pool for a box turtle that I carried home from the park. Dad also constructed “guest rooms” out of clear plastic and wooden frames for toads, caterpillars and spiders. When a tiny bed-and-breakfast guest arrived for a stay, the children of the neighborhood helped to deliver an ample supply of fresh water and meals that suited the guest’s individual taste. In return, we got to observe toads beginning to sweat profusely then shedding their skins by pulling the old tight skin up over their back and finally over their head, then pushing it into their mouth and eating it. Nothing wasted. Before our eyes, caterpillars transformed into cocoons and spiders caught their dinners on their webs. Each type of spider had a different web pattern and used only that pattern over and over again if the web was torn or destroyed.
The first snake I captured lived for a short time in a glass jar in our kitchen. I covered the jar with stocking hosiery that my mother had discarded. As the snake warmed up in the house, it found the run in the stocking and crawled out, surprised my mother when it popped its head out from behind the refrigerator. At the time, Mom was talking on the telephone to one of her friends and she calmly said, “Sorry I have to hang up now, my daughter’s snake is loose.” Mom’s friend let out a horrified scream, but my mother simply picked up the snake, and suggested that it was time for me to set it free once again.
Each one of the backyard guests had lessons to teach. The lessons I liked the best were about transformation, survival and the mystery of life in it’s many forms.
My Turn 