Pix From the Field: Hooked Terrapin

Greetings from the Chesapeake and David Owen Hawxhurst Photography.

It occurred to me recently that there are all kinds of funny, quirky, beautiful, and moving images that I run into in the field that aren’t really marketable as editorial or fine art Chesapeake photography. These images are still worthy despite their defiance of categorization. These unseen photos from the field often tell the story behind the story. Welcome to the ongoing series Pix from the Field…

While kayaking under the Rt. 16 Bridge over Slaughter Creek on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay this past weekend, I saw a fisherman watching the end of his line in the water. From a distance it looked as though he had snagged something heavy and reluctant to move. As I paddled closer I realized it was a turtle, pawing slowly at the surface twenty feet below the bewildered teenager.

As I paddled closer I saw a Diamondback Terrapin struggling to free itself from a large squid-covered hook. It might not have been the wisest thing I’ve ever done but I reached into the water and scooped the turtle into my open kayak. At this point I had an angry turtle, with a piece of stainless steel through his cheek, sitting on my lap while still tethered to a fellow on the bridge in a ten knot wind. Do you know terrapins have rather large claws? I guess I knew this, but this was the first time I’d ever been this intimate with one.

My plan was to cut the 40-pound test leader and work the hook out of the creature’s mouth. I reached for my knife…the one I had left on the seat of my truck when I was hastily putting my boat in the water. With no knife, I tried to bite through the line, but no luck. By this point my boat was near the end of the fishing line extending from the bridge. I took the last foot of slack and wrapped it around a toggle on the kayak. Now the fellow on the bridge had caught a lot more than he’d bargained for.

My attempts to bite though the line had weakened it. A swift yank on the turtle’s end of the line broke us free from the would-be angler, delivered a nice-sized slice to my finger, and got my passenger good and riled up. Remember the turtle claws? After a couple of good swipes at my legs, he retreated into his shell for the first time, leaving the sharp end of the hook dangling out. Somehow he didn’t understand that I was trying to help him.

I was only about a quarter mile from my truck, so I placed him behind the seat and headed for the dock.

Once back on land, I had a chance to look him over. He wore a shell of hardened leather, dark gray, about a foot long with a few barnacles near his tail. His skin was soft and moist with thin green-gray lines and flecks over his head and limbs. He had a strong-looking jaw with an intimidating beak, which he made many slow attempts to bite me with. At the end of his arms and legs were his claws, surprisingly long and sharp. His paws were oriented much like my own hands, with an obvious thumb position. He moved slowly and clumsily in my hands, but was always able to pry himself from my grip.

I left him scratching and clawing at the plastic seat while I searched my truck for pliers to remove the hook from his jaw.

The hook was about two inches long, and had a large barb which kept it firmly in the turtle’s cheek. He squirmed and pulled his head into his shell when I moved it in his mouth. Catching him by surprise during one of his escape attempts, I was able to get a good grip behind his head, keeping him from disappearing into his shell for long enough to collapse the barb. The smoother hook slid out of his mouth easily…and back into the shell his head went. I picked him up and held him over the water. His limbs and head poked out from his shell immediately and flailed widely, trying to swim in the air. I lowered him into the water and he darted deep into the thick green water, disappearing from sight.