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Western Pond Turtle

Clemmys Marmorata

Thank You.

Thank you to Alli, who was always smiling with me.

Thank you to Derek, who helped me shape the first visual scope of this project.

Thank you to Kathrine, who always had advice and encouraging words, and wrote me a beautiful haiku.

Thank you to Brad, who pointed me towards Loon Laughter.

Thank you to Johanna, who suggested I take a look in Woodward Library.

Thank you to Vanessa, who always had a positive attitude and a sense of humor.

Thank you to Craig, who was my academic advisor, confidante, and part-time psychiatrist through this process.

Thank you to all my friends and acquaintances who lent their creativity in the form of western pond turtle haikus.

Thank you to the entire class, who as a group bonded together in a very special display of academic fellowship that I have so rarely felt in any other classes.

Thank you to Laurie, who taught me how to leave the library and read the poetry of the ground beneath my feet.

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This journal, like the project itself, takes on a labyrinthian form. It mirrors my research and discovery process, in that it takes twists and turns, leaves the reader in unexpected places, and maybe occasionally loses sight of itself to take advantage of the alluring sidetracks that pop up now and then. But as my father would say, “All roads lead somewhere if you follow them long enough”, and such is the case with this journal. All of my thoughts, musings, research tracks that supposedly led nowhere… they all need a place between these pages because they all played a definitive part in shaping my thought processes and giving me the imagination and creativity that allowed me to “unpack” the western pond turtle.

In these pages is a process. I did not just write a paper, or complete a school assignment. I changed the way I view the world around me.

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Table of Contents.

Part One: Reading the Animal…………………………………………… ..Page 1

Part Two: Put Your Fingers in the Dirt and Feel Your Habitat.......Page 31

Part Three: The World on Your Back…………………………………....Page 65

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i tried to save the turtles they died anyway

better to die in water

-Viki Reka Kissi!

Part One: Reading the Animal

! #!

Little western pond turtle Just hanging on your little rock

Watching fish swim by

-Dylan Gillespie!

EXPLORATION: STEPPING OUTSIDE THE CLASSROOM English 490. Section 005. Day 1.

We stand in a group in a small patch of damp earth, bunched together and tucked into a patch of shrubbery outside of the Buchanan buildings. Professor Laurie Ricou is quiet as he gazes into an old blue baseball cap full of shredded bits of paper. We are waiting for his instruction, but he takes his time, calculating the silence and cherishing our confused anticipation before finally extending the blue cap towards us. Calmly he tells us to close our eyes and select a paper, thereby setting ourselves on a course of literary exploration and personal adventure that will carry us for the next three months. And so it begins.

You see I really have no idea what I have just gotten myself into with this English Literature class. I admit, when perusing the course descriptions for potential majors seminars, I was strangely drawn to the vague course description, notable for its romantic adjectives and glaring omission of any decisive reading list (generally a necessary part of any English class). But it was this very departure from the expected norm that led me into Professor Ricou’s classroom that first day in September. As I sat down and looked at the faces of my fellow classmates and soon-to-be collaborators, I realized that despite our clear differences in backgrounds and diverging education paths, behind every expression of vague confusion there was a glimmer of anticipation that belied their desire for the very same inspiration that I was searching for. And it was for this reason that we willingly followed Professor Ricou out of the safe boundaries of the classroom box, down the stairs, and out the front doors of our building. It was for this reason that we did not question him as he led us on a muddy adventure into the bushes, stopping to lovingly point out the overripe blackberries and the leather-leafed salal plant with an affection hardly ever bestowed on such forgotten botanical species.

I had no way of knowing this at the time, but in that moment where we each made the decision to leave the safety of the classroom to welcome the “wilderness” of the outdoors, we became a team. I had no way of knowing this at the time, but our individual decisions to quiet our apprehensions of the unknown would bond us in such a unique way, creating a classroom camaraderie that I have never before experienced in the English Department at UBC.

…. In the shrubbery, I gaze at those bits of paper Laurie hold out to us. Although they look humble and unassuming, I know how pivotal they are to the work that we are about to set out to do. You see, each one of these pieces of paper is inscribed with the name of a particular species that occurs in our habitat of the Pacific Northwest. Not, however, the classic postcard animals that entice out-of-towners to come and experience the wilderness of “Beautiful British Columbia”, but rather the ones that are most often overlooked – the underdogs, the stranger creatures, and the “Plain Janes” of the plant and animal world. So, whatever species

! $!

Little turtle guy I once had you for a pet

Then you swam away

-Nick Zirk!

chooses to jump out of the hat and join me on this adventure, my job will be (to quote Laurie) to “fall in love” with my species, and through it gain a new understanding of my local habitat and my relationship with all living things in the world. A tall order methinks.

The hat begins its reluctant circle. I see each of my classmates/ teammates extend their fingers hesitantly beyond the creased brim to select their very own, soon-to-be-beloved species. One by one we go: White-somethinged Sparrow… Red Irish Lord (whatever that is)… Vine Maple… Sea Lettuce… Millipede… It is my turn. My fingers extend and retrieve the folded paper. I announce aloud, “Western Pond Turtle”.

And there he is: my buddy for the next three months, the lens through which I

will investigate the inner secrets of my habitat, my guide to the hidden places I have yet to explore…

I’m skeptical, to be sure. But I am already hooked. Looking at the faces of the others in the circle, I am sure that we share the same feelings. But, despite my skepticism, I have a distinct feeling, for reasons that are meant to be a mystery, that each of our species chose us. Ok Western Pond Turtle, let’s make this happen.!

! %!

My neck too short to get outside the picture where

I'm sure there's some food

-Cole Robertson!

FIELD NOTE: Western Pond Turtle…. now what?

I suppose I thought that once my species became a little more specific, I would have more of an idea as to how to approach this project. Unfortunately, as I stare down at the words “Western Pond Turtle” written on my scrap of folded paper, I realize that no such luck has crossed my path.

As I don’t know anything about turtles, or their habitat in the Pacific Northwest, my first instinct is to launch a thorough biological and geographical investigation into the creature. I suppose this makes a certain amount of sense, except for the fact that this is a course on English Literature, not Biology or Geography. I realize that I signed up for this class for the very reason that I wanted to bend my brain and break through the boundaries of the traditional boundaries of educational study fields, but this is proving to be much more confusing than I expected. What does the Western Pond Turtle have to do with English Literature? How do I marry the biological investigation with the literary analysis? How do I present seemingly unrelated ideas coherently in the same project? How do I find answers when I am not even sure what questions I am supposed to be asking? I know there are infinite paths laid out before me, but I feel blind, lost, and overwhelmed by choice.

FIELD NOTE: Imagining the questions.

Our instructions are vague and grand in their scope, yet daunting. Laurie has asked us to, among other things, compose a literary ecology of our species; to take adventures outside of the classroom; to surprise ourselves; to be patient and relentless; to dream; to pursue obsessively; and to “always travel lighter than the heart”. I cannot help but be moved at these romantic aspirations, and it occurs to me that in four years of university I have never had a teacher attempt to bend my brain in the ways that Professor Laurie Ricou is doing right now. I feel my limits being tested and it is a wonderful sensation, but I also feel terribly confined by the lack of boundaries. Perhaps as a UBC student I am like an animal that has been tamed as a pet - after several years in numbing captivity it is finally set loose, but at that point it is so unprepared for the responsibility of freedom that the only thing it can think of to do is return back home. I cherish this opportunity to point the grand culmination of my acquired knowledge back to the real world outside the classroom and towards the

! &!

Soft skin and big shell What a wonder of the world

I think to myself

-Kristin Lehman!

tactile ground beneath my feet, but first I need to break free from the trappings of standard education.

Despite the vague and nostalgic requirements, I realize that I need to create some definitive questions on which to build from. Laurie’s syllabus mentions Garrett Hardin’s first law of ecology, which simply states that, “Everything is connected to everything else” (Harding, 200), I am caught on this idea of connection, and it occurs to me that this may be the crux of the message Laurie is trying to impart onto us. None of the species on our list of choices stands out as particularly amazing or noteworthy, but the beauty of the simplest organism lies in the fact that by its very existence it is an essential part of the ecosystem that we are all thriving within. I start building off of this concept of interconnection within an ecosystem, and I think I understand the driving reasoning in selecting a range of animals within our own specific habitat is to force us to include ourselves as individuals within our analysis.

So, while I am looking at a Western Pond Turtle look at me looking at him looking

at me…. What I will really be thinking about is this:

Who are you, and how do you connect to your habitat? How do turtles and humans connect with each other? How do you play a part in or illustrate the grand connection we human beings forge with the natural world around us?

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Smile frisky turtle, For it seems that you're getting,

Some hot tree stump love.

-Craig Pagens!

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Green is the best, And you are wearing it well.

What a fancy guy.

-Sean Holler!

FIELD NOTE: On the topic of names From the invention of language comes the invention of names. The concept of name is a purely human construction, but one that has become so necessary for us to strike any familiarity with the world. You meet a new person, you say, “Hello my name is…” You discover a new species of plant or animal, you are given the privilege of naming it. A new baby is born, before anything else it is given a name. When an animal enters a family as a pet or for work, it is provided with a name, so that it can be set apart from the wild animals of its breed. The privilege of identity in the human scope of consciousness is governed by the idea of name. Such a trifling matter in the scope of all living things in the world, but absolutely essential in the way in which we find ways to identify and engage with the species that share our ecosystem.

!WHO ARE YOU? The Western Pond Turtle

Kingdom: Animalia Phylum: Chordata Class: Reptilia Order: Testudines Genus: Actinemys Species: Clemmys Marmorata (“Western Pond Turtle” WAZA)!

French: Tortue de l’Ouest German: Pazifische Sumphfschildkröte Spanish: Tortuga de Estangue del Pacifico Danish: Vestlige Sumpskildpadde (“Western Pond Turtle,” Arkive)!

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Why run from turtles Just turn around and squish ‘em

Then go look for more

-Rif!

!

FIELD NOTE: The Question of language

Human beings have an inherent need to communicate, and as such, language and written interpretations become our major sophisticated method of representing the world around us. In the experience of writing on something we forge a connection to it, and then bridge that connection in secondary experiences to whoever reads those words and imparts their meaning onto others. In this way of forging connection through literature, however, we are limited in the extent of the personal connection we can experience as the lens the poet views his scene through binds us into a finite frame. We can only experience what the poet has allowed us to, based on what he feels is important, relevant, amazing, etc, therefore a scope of writing on a subject does not so much reveal the truth of the subject, but the truth in the manner in which the subject is seen. How will the frame of poetry reveal the way in which human beings perceive the Western Pond Turtle? Can the science of an organism and the poetry of its being ever accurately cross paths? Where does the field guide end and the nature poem begin?!

WHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE? Western pond turtles are relatively small turtles. Their average length ranges from fifteen to twenty centimeters, and they weigh between 448 and 1100 grams (“Western Pond Turtle,” Washington NatureMapping Program). Their carapice, or upper shell, is flat and low, and generally dark green to brown from head to tail (“Living with Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 1). Darker spots or lines radiating from the centre of their scutes may break up the decorative coloring on their carapices, or they may be relatively patternless (Lovich, 2). The plastron, or lower shell, is a pale yellow colour, and the leathery skin

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Carapace: In reptiles, the top shell of a turtle or tortoise. Plastron: In reptiles, the lower shell of a turtle or tortoise. Scute: A large, bony plate or scale on the upper or lower shell of a turtle or tortoise.

Garrison)

! Z!

turtles are following me they follow me when

i don´t know which way to go

-Viki Reka Kissi

through which they breathe is a grey tone with pale yellow appearing on the neck, chin, limbs, forearms, and tail (Lovich, 2)

There exists a sexual dimorphism in the appearance of the western pond turtle. The carapice of the male is flatter and less marked than that of the female, and the plastron takes a more concave shape than its female counterpart

(“Western Pond Turtle,” WAZA). The male also has a lighter colored throat and a longer tail than the female, and the cloaca extends past the end of the shell where the female’s does not (“Western Pond Turtle,” WAZA). The feet of the pond turtle are webbed and flipper-like for smooth swimming in the water (“Western Pond Turtle.” Washington NatureMapping Program). At the first sign of danger it will dive into the water to escape beneath the surface, or retract its feet, head, and tail into the shell for protection (“Western Pond Turtle.” Washington NatureMapping Program).!

WHERE DO YOU LIVE? The habitat of the western pond turtle is a freshwater wetlands-based area with access to both land terrain and water (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 1). The ideal habitat includes a permanent source of slow-moving water with both deep and shallow areas, aquatic vegetation that provide cover and hiding places, areas for basking, and access to undisturbed dry land for nesting. The best areas would also include waterways corridors such as streams or small rivers that allow for movement between turtle populations (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 1).

Western pond turtles spend the majority of the year living in or near the water source of their habitat (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2). As reptiles, they have to regulate their temperature externally by absorbing the sun’s heat. Periodically they will bring themselves out of the water to bask in the sun on raised surfaces such as logs and rocks, or even on the elevated banks of the pond (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2). If these basking sites are limited, turtles

! "[!

Prehistoric days Held inside your reptile skin

Leather and sharp nails

-Mairin Deery!

can actually stack themselves on top of each other to take advantage of the space that is available (Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2). Occasionally, it has been observed that pond turtles may not take such a kind approach to sharing sites, instead resorting to aggression and violence, using an open-mouthed lunging technique to bite the other turtle and push it off its place on the perch (“Living With

Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 3) During the wintertime the western pond turtle hibernates in the mud at the

bottom of the pond, or buried in dry land. Turtles may travel up to half a mile from their home base in order to find a suitable site that will keep them insulated and protected from winter predators until they are able to return to pond life in the springtime (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtles,” 3). Western pond turtles can live to be over fifty years old (“Western Pond Turtle.” Washington NatureMapping Program), so protected hibernation sites are an important factor in making sure that populations are able to live to their natural old age.

FIELD NOTE: The poetry of appearance.

Visual perception through eyesight provides the main method by which humans assimilate information from their environment. From this idea it is no great leap to understand how so much of the poetry written on or about turtles focuses on their appearance – to forge a relationship the poet must first see the creature to identify it, and then write about it to create a connection.

One example of the way description of visual appearance is used can be seen is in the beautiful poem “What Turtle Blood Tastes Like,” by Jonas Lamb:!

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! ""!

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bay leaves and garlic this thing will not dive again

the soup is tasty

-Tuula Verhho!

In this poem Lamb describes a chilling young memory of crushing a turtle while playing in a swamp with his friend. Although he does not refer to the western pond turtle specifically, I feel that by the author placing the setting in an “algae bloom swamp” I can infer that he is writing on either a pond turtle or a very similar freshwater species, and that the description and emotion described in the poem are applicable.

In the poem Lamb refers to a childish ignorance and innocence, saying, “We believed no one could see us”, and speaking in the language and phrasing of a child as he says, “snappers’ll get yer toes”. This language lends the poem a certain naivety, perhaps almost to excuse the chilling action and imminent death that is to follow. It is

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Tough life for turtles Your days are getting numbered

The ponds are gone, man

-Alec McLean!

!

interesting to note that while the child is seen as the figure wielding the natural forces of “gravity, god, and geology” for destruction and amusement, the turtle is given a separate distinction from the child in that its descriptive language compares it to basic elements of the natural world. His shell is not called green but “mossy”, and the sound of the rock hitting his shell is not described in simple terms of sound but specifically like “green wood / cracking”.

By isolating in a single stanza the imagery of the cracking of young green wood with the imagery of “purple blood / and sickly tears”, Lamb is carefully connecting the visuals of graphic death with the destruction of wood, or perhaps a tree, rather than the turtle itself. This can especially be seen in his use of colors, as the green of the wood and the purple of the blood provide a dramatic visual contrast akin to life and death, almost as if the reader can see the purple blood spilling from the inside of the tree itself. As a tree is a common symbol for the grand concept of nature, one could say that the act of crushing the turtle is not seen as merely an act of very deliberate destruction executed in the cruelty of a child, but an act of violence against Mother Nature herself. In the act of wielding the power of nature against itself, the child in the poem experiences a transition from a naïve world as a creature at peace with the earth to a world of violence, death and consequences – a loss of innocence if you will. This transition is completed at the end of the poem, where in a careless act the children toss the crushed creature back into the swamp, simply because “it kept / looking into (our) eyes”, reminding them of their crime.

In contrast to the turtle/Mother Nature connection created through the visually descriptive imagery in Jonas Lamb’s poem, John Updike’s poem, “To a Box Turtle”, uses descriptive language that paints the turtle in a slightly different light:!

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Timmy, maybe Tom Doesn’t matter much to me

You guys look alike

-John Davenport!

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Western pond turtle I don’t know that much about you

Do no leave us yet

-Erik Lane!

Where Lamb used his descriptive imagery to place the turtle as a sacrificial figure, Updike uses words to describe the turtle that would otherwise be reserved for priceless jewels and treasures, such as in saying “The manifold jewel of you”. In this way he is thereby giving value to the creature but also commoditizing it as a decorative artifact, rather than a creature we share our habitat with. This subject of this poem is actually a box turtle, but language used gives a unique window with which to see how the Western Pond Turtle could be viewed Like Lamb, separates the human world from that of the natural as he reflects on the turtle, saying, “What are you thinking, thus sealed inside yourself?” In these words Updike is provided the visual of the turtle sealed into itself as well as sealed away from the human world, forever inaccessible to our understanding. Updike continues this idea of connection through disconnect, as he expounds upon the visual details of the creature using comparisons to human artifacts. In discussing the appearance of its shell, he says it is the “Size of a small skull, and like a skull segmented / of pentagons healed and varnished to form a dome”. One can clearly assume that Updike is referring to a human skull, as well as the manner in which it is formed in fragmented pieces that heal around the brain after birth. He expounds upon these humanesque projections later in the poem, referring to the turtle as a “leathery person” and suggesting that the bottom plate, or plastron, is saying “No” to any would-be attackers and intruders. As Updike continues to ascribe human characteristics to the turtle, such as by calling it “imperious”, or “courteous”, it is almost as if personifying the turtle with human looks and language is the only way for Updike to create a relationship with it. That is not to say that Updike’s descriptions are incorrect – in fact he provides rich language for the reader to accurately visualize the delicate details of the turtle while doing away with the dry prose of the average field guide. Rather than just describe the turtle’s forefeet, Updike calls them “dried coelacanth fins”, and “miniature sea-fans”, and the black nails are “decadent like a Chinese empress’s”. He also ascribes a material value to the creature in his description, such as by alluding to the obvious beauty and wealth of an exotic empress and providing such imagery as “eyes ringed with dull gold”. But it is important to note that even this descriptive imagery shows a kind of ascribed value and awe, it still holds a very human quality to it. Updike always comes back to the comparison of natural beauty with elements of the human world, such as in saying that the turtles bottom plastron is “fine-grained and tinted / tobacco-brown

! "&!

turtles die on land if they die being wet too

it is something wrong

-Viki Reka Kissi!

and the yellow of a pipe smoker’s teeth”. In his words, Updike illustrates the first step in making a true connection to the natural world through keen attention to detail and an appreciation for simple beauty, but at the same time displays a separation of “us versus them” in the way that he can only see the beauty in relation to the human world. One has to wonder, is it still “nature” if it is expressed only on our terms?

WHO DO YOU EAT?

The western pond turtle is an omnivorous reptile, thriving off the low plant and animal life that exist in its wetlands habitat. Although the pond turtle will consume a variety of species, its diet mainly consists of small insects, tadpoles, frog legs, snails,

leeches, aquatic beetles, dragonfly larvae, small fish, fibrous algae, marshy bulrushes, and cattail roots (“Western Pond Turtle,” Washington NatureMapping Program). If availability permits, the pond turtle may also seek out crustaceans, as well as scavenge the meat from the abandoned carcasses of dead animals (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2)

The pond turtle locates its food using both sight and smell (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2). It will cruise along the bottom of the pond and skim the banks of the wetland areas to locate its next meal (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2). Once its food is successfully obtained, the turtle will submerge itself beneath the surface of the water for eating, as it is physically unable to swallow air. The turtle can remain underwater for over sixty minutes before it needs to resurface for air (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2)

! "'!

Eat some yummy leaves But watch out for those bullfrogs

Or they will eat you

-Grace Annixter!

WHO EATS YOU? Western pond turtles are most vulnerable to predators during the early “childhood” life. It can take up to three years before a pond turtle “outgrows” its predators – becoming large enough that its would-be attackers can no longer consume it (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 3). Bullfrogs, largemouth and smallmouth bass, river otters, minks, and raccoons prey upon these younger turtles, and are of especially great danger to new hatchlings because of their especially small size (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 4). Small land predators, such as skunks, opossums, coyotes, red foxes, and dogs, also pose a great risk as they can disrupt poorly hidden turtle nests. These land predators can detect the turtle urine in the nest, and once the nest is discovered they will destroy all of the eggs within (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 4).

Although the pond turtle’s hard outer shell offers some protection, it lacks a repertoire of more aggressive defense skills against larger predators. Its best defense to avoid becoming pond dinner is to hide amongst the mud and vegetation of the pond, using its brown and dark-green shell to camouflage itself within its habitat (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 4).

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lonely life in pond cold water and muddy soup

must come up for air

- Tessa Rowan!

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WHERE DO YOUR BABIES COME FROM? Relative to its long life span, the western pond turtle is not sexually mature until it is approximately ten years old (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2) or grows to a length of approximately eleven centimeters (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 4). When the female lays her eggs in June or July (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2), she searches out an appropriate nesting site away from the pond, generally open slopes with sparse grasses and southern exposure for maximum sunlight and heat, which is essential to the health of the eggs (Lovich, 3). If no such sites are available nearby, female turtles are known to travel up to 2 km in order to find an appropriate nesting place (Lovich, 3). When the female has selected the site, she turtle urinates into the ground in order to moisten it and make it easier to dig into, and then with her hind legs she scoops out the loose soil (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2). After about ten hours, enough soil has been excavated to make a suitable space for her eggs. The completed nest is pear-shaped, and is approximately four inches deep and one inch wide (“Living With Wildlife:

Western Pond Turtle,” 2). Once she is satisfied with her work, the female will deposit her eggs into the hole and then cover them with the disrupted soil, forming a plug-shape at the top of the nest (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2). The clutch can be anywhere from one to thirteen eggs, depending on the size of the turtle (Lovich, 4), and occasionally turtles will “double clutch” in a

! "Y!

Lay eggs in the mud Soon there will be little guys

Playing in the pond

-Danielle O’Brien!

nesting season. (Lovich, 4) After the eggs have been incubated

by the summer sun, the eggs hatch around early fall - September or October - depending on the average temperature during the incubation time. If the weather has been warm and sunny, the turtles may hatch in as early as 75 days, but if the weather has been generally cooler and shady, they may not hatch for up to 125

days. Enough warmth is essential for successful hatching, and if the eggs do not get sufficient heat it is possible that they will not hatch at all (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 3).

Once born, the hatchlings will stay in the nesting site for almost one year. This is a crucial period for them, and undisturbed nesting sites are absolutely essential for their survival (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 3). When the hatchlings have grown to be about the size of a quarter, they will leave the nest and begin to venture out into the pond habitat, spending their early life in the shallow water among the vegetation in order to conceal themselves from possible predators (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 3). After they have left the nest for good, the nesting site still remains a place of importance in their instinctual memory, as female pond turtles often travel back to the site of their hatching to lay their own eggs (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 3).!

! "Z!

Turtles freak me out But not that Western Pond guy

Get that guy a beer.

-Oliver Samuda!

FIELD NOTE: I Am the Turtle Humans are by nature egocentric. I think its natural to always want to see a bit of ourselves reflected back into the natural world. In Updike’s poem he makes great efforts to see images of his own world in the details of a turtle. But I think it is also a natural desire to see fragments of our inner selves, desires, secrets, etc. mirrored back at us as well, perhaps in an attempt to feel less spiritually alone in our ecosystem. A simple yet exquisite example of this can be seen in the poem “Landscape with Mud Turtle”, By Jennifer Atkinson, as she compares her inner emotional state with that of a hibernating mud turtle, also known as a pond turtle (“Western Pond Turtle,” Atlantis).

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Sometimes I’m nervous Around turtles and reptiles

They look like dragons

-Kelsey Martens!

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In her poem Atkinson takes the imagery of a wintertime pond habitat to symbolize the desolation and confusion she feels in her middle age crisis. She says, “I’d have thought my life at halfway would look / half-grown, half-gone, or half-born / But try as I might I can’t get far enough out to see it.” She compares this feeling of great transition in her life to being in a wintertime pond, trying to get a view of the life thriving within it but blocked by “the reeds, the rocking cattails, / the hollow seed pods of last summer’s lilies”. It is as if she cannot get a proper view of her future for the evidence of the past weighing her down.

Like herself, the pond is in transition, and she uses the beautiful image of the

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Seriously, guys. Get that turtle to a cab. He's too drunk to drive.

-Oliver Samuda!

pond turtles frozen beneath the surface of the pond – “barely, not quite dead in their shells”– to symbolize her feelings of entrapment within herself. She has created an image of a kind of limbo that exists simultaneously for the turtle as well as herself, where neither is alive nor altogether dead. This words used to describe this kind of dormancy, or hibernation, is similar to the language used to describe feelings of depression, where one could feel caught in a low, dark place, unable to break free and feel the light and warmth of life.

In nature, there is an inherent understanding that spring will follow winter, and with that coming of warmth the turtles will “thaw, gasping at ice cracks, clawing at the slush and scum”. But it appears that Atkinson is not so sure, as she question this quality of self-resurrection embodies by the pond turtle as she wonders if nature can be trusted so completely, saying, “It happens every year. Until it doesn’t”. Perhaps this lack of faith in the continual seasonal life cycles is a reflection of a feeling of not having a firm place of belonging in her habitat, or a feeling of “meant-to-be-there”. The inevitability of the consistently transitional life cycle is seen so simply in other animal species, where its identification to habitat and “meaning of life” is inherent simply in its existence. But in comparing her inner emotional state with the life cycle of a pond turtle, Atkinson illustrates how, as a human being, a lack of firm identity has caused her to question whether or not the spring will come for her and break the ice that is keeping her down.

To provide a comparison to Jennifer Atkinson’s connection between the yearly hibernation cycle of a turtle and her own emotional troubles, the poem “To a Turtle”, by Maxine McGray Miller places the turtle (perhaps, although not specifically a Western Pond Turtle) as an embodiment of ambitious characteristics humans strive to see in themselves:!

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Crazy black nails Scratching from behind the glass

You want to get out

-Kristin Lehman

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When reading this poem I cannot help but remember the classic children’s tale, “The Tortoise and the Hare”, where the moral of the story always came in the faithful chorus of “slow and steady wins the race!” In describing the turtle’s perilous journey across a “humming highway’s span”, Miller puts her turtle in a similar David and Goliath-style scene, placing it in the role of the unlikely underdog attempting to survive amongst the dangerous powers that exist in the “ferment of the Universe”. The fact that “So small a life” continues to persevere in its journey of mortal peril is a testament to its slow and steady determination and its faith in the patterns of nature that “simple things will e’er endure”.

Miller shows the connection she is making with the turtle and the admirable characteristics it possesses as she says, “you, too, are akin to man”, meaning that such

! #$!

Are you for real, man? Giving turtles beer is a

crime? Since when? And why?

-Oliver Samuda!

characteristics it possesses as she says, “you, too, are akin to man”, meaning that such characteristics are essential for any animal, including the human kind, as they move throughout their lives. She celebrates these qualities as seen in the turtle, and in this way uses it a representation of the challenges and risks posed against us as we attempt to persevere against forces beyond our control and move forward in our lives. At the end it becomes almost a moral lesson à la “The Tortoise and the Hare”, as it is clear that Miller not only admires these characteristics for herself, but also uses his as an example for her readers, as she says, “He lifts his resolute, little face. / Salute the turtle thrusting on.” Through her verbal illustration, Miller presents for the reader an admirable creature that provides a dramatic contrast to the mud turtle seen through the words of Stewart Edward White (“Why Be a Mud Turtle?”), who sees the life of his turtle to be as small as the pond he lives in.

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WHERE HAVE YOU GONE? Western pond turtle populations have been steadily declining as a combined result of loss of nesting habitat, loss of hatchling habitat, and the predation on hatchlings by natural and introduced predators, including humans (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 1). Once plentiful, turtles began disappearing around the 1980s, leaving few adult specimens remaining in the wild today (“Western Pond Turtle,” Washington NatureMapping Program)

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I knew a turtle His name might have been Yertle

Childish me loved him

-Nick Zirk!

The area of the western pond turtles’ wetlands habitat has slowly and steadily been reduced by outside forces. Wetlands draining practices have cleared the ponds and marshes to make way for the intensive agriculture and urban development of the ever-increasing population of humans (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 1). Invasive species have begun to interrupt the delicate ecosystem of the wetlands, and the introduction of exotic predators, such as bullfrogs, opossums, and largemouth bass have disrupted the population balance of the species thriving within it (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 1). It is important to not that the invasive species are not isolated solely within Kingdom Animalia, however. Over the years, exotic plant species, most likely escapees from some nearby backyard, have been creeping in between the reeds and cattails of the wetlands and changing the behavior of the ecosystem. Species such as the Himalayan blackberry and red canary grass have disrupted the balance in wetlands vegetation, resulting in fewer of the floods and fires that are necessary for soil health, and reduced quantity and quality of habitat for animals such as the western pond turtle (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond

Turtle,” 1). Commercial trapping of the western pond turtle for food and pets is also a very real threat facing the species. Although it was more pressing issue earlier in the 20th century, before the western pond turtle was considered protected wildlife in the Pacific Northwest, it is still considered a factor in population reduction (“Western Pond Turtle,” Arkive)

As a result of these population threats, western pond turtle hatchlings are scarce. Most populations consist of large, older turtles – the survivor of previous generations that have now been left without younger turtles to replace them (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 1). In Oregon, where the western pond turtle is most plentiful, populations generally will have only twenty individual turtles (and sometimes even fewer), and exist isolated from each other and separated by barriers of roadways, urban development, farmland, and drained wetlands. This isolation causes inbreeding in turtle populations, resulting in a loss of genetic diversity and subsequent increased vulnerability to disease and genetic irregularities (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 1).!

! #&!

Crawl out the swamp, You hump the stump,

Done,limp lil lump

-Rif!

ARE YOU EVER COMING BACK? Between the destruction of its Wetlands habitat and the introduction of species that have proved themselves to be dangerous, unnatural predators, the future of the western pond turtle in the Pacific Northwest is looking rather bleak. Although there are organizations, such as the Western Pond Turtle Recovery Project (more on this later), that focus on the protection and restoration of western pond turtle populations (Slavens, 1), much of the conservation work can be done by the individual residents of this land, right in their own backyards and communities.

Most of the wetlands habitat that is home to the western pond turtle is located on private property. It is therefore up to the individual owners to take the initiative to preserve these disappearing habitats in their natural state, making them suitable places for pond turtle to survive (“Living With Wildlife: Western Pond Turtle,” 2). One may even go so far as to take active control over predator populations, including pets, and even building fences around nesting sites to make them less of a vulnerable target.

It is also important for individuals to pay a certain amount of attention should they ever run into reptile wildlife. If one crosses the path of a little shelled creature that could possibly be a western pond turtle, it is imperative that it is turned into a local reptile rescue organization, such as Richmond Reptile Rescue, based out of Richmond, B.C., and the Westcoast Society of Protection and Conservation of Animals, located around British Columbia. Organizations such as these play a crucial role in saving lost or abandoned turtles from an otherwise unfortunate ending by offering veterinary care and then placing them in zoos or reptile-friendly adoptive households that can care for the turtles for the rest of their long lives.

!

! #'!

Chillin’ on a stump You seem like you are pretty cool

Even with all that armor on

-Alec McLean!

FIELD NOTE: Writing A Relationship The last poems I discussed addressed the way in which the Western Pond Turtle can be perceived through various lenses of poets, and how it can illustrate both positive and negative characteristics within us. Certain poets have taken the human-animal relationship one step further in their poetry by using the turtle as a symbol for the relationship between humans and Mother Nature as a whole.!

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With his clever twist of imagery, Blanding is able to cleverly illustrate the hopeless future of the turtle amongst the destructive machines of human civilization. By using the extended metaphor of the turtle-as-truck, he brings the animal out of the realm of “natural world” and applies the expectations of human life onto the animal species. By playing with such expectations, such as the idea that everything moving on

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olive omnivore, whose shell is a hermit cave,

life can be fragile.

-Sabrina Jelic!

the highway must be a vehicle with a human driver, he opens the way for the reader to fill in the blanks in his distanced language. When he says, “neatest little trailer job,” or “nifty frame,” we are clearly supposed to assume that this is a truck of some sort, and then further begin to criticize the supposed driver’s shoddy driving skills. When Blanding writes, “The driver was an awful dub, he didn’t seem to know / The traffic rules or when to stop or where to go”, the poem begins to read almost like some sort of “Mothers Against Drunk Driving” warning, paving the way for the images of guilt and death that will inevitably color the ending. To Blanding’s credit, he manages to leave out the twist ending until the very last line, using instead a series of dots and spaces as a visual for the “mangled flesh” and “bits of shell” that the turtle scattered in a scene of destruction along the highway. By using language that would not be out of place in the description of a human car wreck, Blanding is illustrating how out of place the turtle is in our world of highways and semi-trailers, leaving the reader with a pinch of regret as they realize that it is, of course, we who have made him a stranger in his own habitat, ensuring that he “will not cross a road again.”!

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Ponds are so much fun! Look at you swimming around

Ker-plunk! In you go

-Evan Sontag!

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! #Z!

See, once upon a time There once was a turtle named Bill

He was a cool guy

-Dylan Gillespie!

Unlike Blanding’s human-centered universe, McLaughlin is able to spin a poetic universe where the turtle (or in her poem specifically, the tortoise), reigns in a world that revolves around the forces of nature as opposed to civilization. Although McLauglin is using referring to a tortoise in her poem, one can still take her imagery as an example of the way in which a western pond turtle can be seen as a sacred being above the control of humans. She begins her poem with the single syllable of “You-“, thereby immediately putting the subject spotlight and the focus of the poem on the tortoise. She follows this directive beginning with the reference to a common Native American creation myth (Sale, vii-viii), as she says, “you carry the weight of the world / on your backs.” In these words, McLaughlin immediately she offers the tortoise reverence and respect, not simply as an ancient being, but almost making it into the nature version of a Christ-like figure, holding all of the world’s problems, watching over all as time passes over in the tangible measurements of mountains and seas. With its inherent sacredness, the tortoise “watched / … the two-legged ones arrive,” and disrupt the balance of animal and earth with violence and ignorance. She writes, “The new two-leggeds / no longer named you / sacred / but killed / for no reason / and did not honor / tortoise.” It is interesting to note here that humans are written in using the same language as animals, “two-leggeds” and “four-leggeds,” and it this way McLaughlin is able to remove the human/animal hierarchy that has dominated the previous poems. She continues this in the manner that she personifies the “machines” that “tore the land”, thereby making it seem that people are no better than dogs and tractors when they are acting in ways that serve to damage the natural life around them. In her poem McLaughin tells the common story of ignorant human against sacred animal, destructive civilization against harmonious nature. However, by continually using distancing pronouns and monikers for the humans, such as “they” and “the two-leggeds”, while using personal directives for the tortoise in the way that it is continually addressed as “you”, she is able to illustrate an inner connectivity to the natural world that is generally absent from the previous works, however they may strive for it. McLaughlin ends her poem with a full-circle conclusion, displaying how the humans “grew in wisdom”. The tortoise, however, is still simply watching, continuing to carry the wisdom of life and the natural world that he has held all along, the wisdom that has escaped the ignorant humans. “From your burrows, / You watch.”!

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There used to be lots In the marsh behind my house

Last Spring I saw three

-Tim Long!

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Turtles: sweet creatures Salt water swims, sandy beach

You taste good in soup.

-Geoff Gregory!

PART TWO:

PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE DIRT

AND FEEL YOUR HABITAT

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Crazy armoured shell Your home, and your protection

Everywhere you go

-Grace Anixter!

EXPLORATION: A WALK IN THE WOODS

I pick my way along the trail, choosing my path alongside the errant tree roots, noting how they snake through the soil in a perpetual search for a better place to attach themselves. The weather is still determined to call itself summer, but there is a chill under the shadow of the trees. Crossing my arms around body, I am thinking I should have brought a better jacket.

Brittany is walking to my right, and she draws my attention as she stops to point out a Red Vine Maple, her species of focus. I listen with only half my attention, letting my mind wander to the rest of the woodlands surrounding us. I am quite sure that I am in no danger of encountering my pond turtle here, but that does not leave me uninterested in our current class field trip. In fact, these woodland areas around us, also known as Pacific Spirit Regional Park, hold quite a special place for me. I used to live close to here – just down the hill at Alma Street – and a few evenings each week I would don my running gear and lace up my dirty shoes, and push myself up the hill until my heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest. I would run, never stopping, until I reached the Blanca street plateau and could stealthily disappear through the hedges into the trail network of the Park. It was here that my real run began.

There was something about the woods – it was unexplainable, but I could run forever. Maybe it was the dank smell of the wet soil, or the perpetual dusky light under the branches, but I was never tired as long as I was running on the trails, flowing like veins bleeding through the body of the forest. I loved how the sound of my foot hitting the earth made a muffled squishy sound, so much more soothing than the definitive pounding that occurs on pavement. I felt some sort of a sense of accomplishment when I could feel the flecks of mud and needles that kicked themselves up and attached themselves to the backs of my legs, staining my socks and shoes in an effort to be remembered. When I compare my filthy sneakers to the pristine pairs that sparkle on the treadmills at the Fitness Worlds and Kitsilano Workouts, I feel even though our mileage remains on par I have accomplished something far greater. When I pass other runners on the trail, there is a moment where we acknowledge with a half-smile and nod the mutual recognition of this secret space we are sharing – our place in this habitat, close enough to the boulevard of 16th that I can hear the engines change gear, but far enough away that it doesn’t seem real. I see one of these eco-athletes coming up behind us. I know that to her we are not real – simply intruders on her moment of

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You look like an old man Like my grade seven math teacher

Sad eyes, wrinkled neck

-Suzanne Best!

peace. As she disappears into the branches, I am suddenly aware of the size of the trees around us, and that aside from the Red Vine Maple I am completely ignorant of their species. We veer off the path somewhat, and Laurie motions for us to stop. Toktam, the forestry graduate student who has graciously lent us her time and expertise for the day, has stopped in the centre of a clearing, bracing herself against her shovel. She begins to introduce the ecosystem of the woods to us, talking about the symbiotic relationships that complete up the efficient life cycles taking place around us. She mentions the Cedar and Douglas Fir trees (whose names I mentally file away for later retrieval), noting the decaying stumps that give nutrients to the new species of plant life growing out from it.

These trees are formidable in size, but I am surprised to find out that they are hardly the Old Growth I had

assumed them to be, and I feel the city girl in me exposing a bit of her ignorance. I notice how comfortable Toktam looks in these surroundings. She leans on

her shovel with a sense of ease and familiarity as she begins to press the point into the earth. After a series of mechanical motions, the shovel indentations begin to take the shape of a square plot of land, perhaps two feet by two feet in area. Toktam lays the shov!el down, and with he!r bare hands she peels away the top layer of the soil to expose to us the hidden workings of the forest biome. She brushes away twigs and dry leaves like friends, covering her hands in dirt. Someone points out her obvious comfort with the soil, and she giggles, saying she has probably made “around a thousand” of these soil plots. I have a hard time understanding why anyone would want to dedicate their life to the study of dirt, but somewhere in my brain I make the connection that this soil is to Toktam what the Western Pond Turtle is now to me: the natural matter through which she strikes her relationship to her habitat. I am suddenly fascinated by how I imagine she sees the world. I see “the woods”, but she sees a series of interconnected soil cross-sections and biochemical make-ups. I envy her deep knowledge of the ground we stand on.

I watch as her fingers keep working through the dirt, pointing out the depth of the layers and nutrient levels, and identifying evidence of fires extinguished long ago. She is familiar with the dirt, but respectful, carefully making sure not to disrupt the earth any more than is necessary. I am captivated by how much of the history of the park is available simply through this small plot of land. Like breaking the surface of a pond, so many layers are hidden beneath the surface – invisible to the unobservant person, but thriving all the same. I think in our attempts to discover the world around us, it is a common mistake that we forget to look down and notice

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Living in the mud Soaking up the hot sun’s rays

Not a bad life

-Nick Zirk!

where life emerges into being. We dismiss it as the dirt beneath our feet, or the cushioning for our expensive running shoes, but the soil carpeting our dear world makes up the cradle from which all life is borne and absorbed back into. It holds the energy of life, and the power of history.

I see this love and respect in the way that Toktam touches the dirt. And when our time is up and we begin to turn away, ready to make our way back into the easy symmetry and right angles of classroom study, I notice the delicate way in which she returns the plot of land to its rightful place. She smoothes the edges and stamps the corners flat, satisfied only when she has left no trace of our intrusion into the Parkland habitat.

Upon re-emergence onto the chaos of 16th avenue, I know I will remember that the soil cushioning my feet has a story.

FIELD NOTES: Adventures at the Vancouver Aquarium As my ongoing research has led me to realize, the current state of the Western Pond Turtle population in British Columbia (read: all but completely extinct) has made any attempts at “backyard” exploration rather futile. But yet I still feel that a face to face meeting with the little guy, however I choose to get it, is essential to the scope of this project. Not unlike my distrust of biographers who write their works without ever having introduced themselves to their subject, I do not believe any being can truly connect to another through the confining pixels of Google Images. Something altogether independent of research and information analysis occurs when two creatures meet each other eye to eye, and it is this precise moment of understanding, connection, whatever you choose to call, it that I continue to patiently seek with my turtle. Sometime in the end of last August (long before the pond turtle had become such an integral part of my everyday life), I purchased on a whim a season’s pass to the Vancouver Aquarium. At the time I had no idea what a fortunate coincidence it would

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! $&!

Save the western turtle There is nothing he’s done to you

He just wants to live

-Dylan Gillespie!

be, as now I realized that I held in my hand the all-access pass to the greater scope of British Columbia’s aquatic wildlife – obviously not in their “natural” habitat, but perhaps one as closely replicated as is possible for an urban aquarium of this sort. Laminated card in hand, confident in my quest, I stroll up to the front counter where I immediately find myself face to face with another species of wildlife in its habitat. The name on her crooked tag reads “Amanda”, and her figures leans expertly against the counter as she examines her delicate press-on nails with a scrutiny that few girls of this age reserve for matters beyond beauty. As I make my presence known, she interrupts her conversation with her fellow shiny-haired employee and greets me with a friendly smile, which soon fades to mild confusion as I pose to her my question of where in this aquatic labyrinth I might be able to find the Western Pond Turtle. She confesses that she does not know the reptiles very well, but that we do have a sea turtle and its really big and pretty and its, like, in the tank with the sharks and she could totally show me if I wanted. I answer that it is not, in fact, the sea turtle that I am looking for, although I am sure it is very impressive to the general tourist and elementary school visitor population, but instead a small brown pond-dwelling turtle, about the size of one’s hand, native to the Pacific Northwest. For a moment her attention rises from her nails and her face reveals surprise and excitement that there are actually turtles in her city. I gently correct here “are” to “were”, but it goes unnoticed as she directs me into the “British Columbia” hallway. Perhaps this has seemed like unnecessary description, for at first glance my front-desk musings with cheerful Amanda have little to do with pond habitat or the Western Pond Turtle as a species. However, as I walked into the darkened hallway to cruise the glowing tanks, I could not help but think what a strange thing it was that I have spent several weeks now totally immersed in the study of the pond turtle, lamenting over its steadily disappearing population, questing for a face to face interview, only to realize that most people have no idea this animal exists, or perhaps once existed, in their own backyard. On top of that, not only are people not aware of the pond turtle, they are equally if not more ignorant of its disappearance as a result of its habitat destruction from human interference. Although it occurred to me in speaking with Amanda that perhaps it was not so much ignorance as simply ecological apathy. Lacking the flashy grandeur and tropical trendiness of the sea turtle, the western pond turtle is hard-pressed to garner the same media attention as his marine peer. Competition is fierce in the world of conservation, where the sad eyes of a beluga tugging on your heartstrings can translate to millions of dollars in funding. It’s true that perhaps to the uneducated eye, the pond turtle doesn’t really have it all

! $'!

Reptile, they call you Cold blood and dragon-like skin

A creature of myth

-Mairin Deery!

going on in the looks department, and he probably isn’t going ever going to be one of the endangered species “guest soaps” hocked at Body Shop locations around the world. But still, I find it a terribly sad reality that the average person in the Pacific Northwest, even one working at an aquarium specializing in local species, knows more about a turtle from Australia than one in her backyard. Back in the Vancouver Aquarium, I begin to cruise the hallway lined with local aquatic curiosities – the bored looking squid suctioned to the side of his tank, tangles of kelp, about a zillion sea stars – but my pond turtle remained elusive. I inquire to one of the red polo-shirted employees, and they politely sent me, through a series of convoluted directions, directly into the “Amazon” section, of all places. There were, I grant you, a variety of reptilian species dwelling in that muggy corner, including a red speckle-backed freshwater tortoise. But nothing resembling the western pond turtle. Could it be, I wonder, that nobody in this place even knows what I am talking about? It hasn’t been that long since the pond turtle was rather common in this area; have we come so far that we don’t even remember it anymore? Rather frustrated by my dead ends so far, I marched my way back into the British Columbia hallway to demand answers. I accost the next red-shirted employee patrolling the tanks, and deciding that he looked enough the part of “trustworthy weathered researcher” I posed to him my question: Are there any pond turtles in this aquarium? His answer, although discouraging, was at least definitive: No there were not. But would I like to see the sea turtle? It was right around the corner and very big and its pretty green shell would match my pretty green eyes oh yes it would… (Well, not exactly like this, but you know what I mean) I politely declined. Not that it wasn’t as grand as everyone claimed, but it just

felt like I would be rooting for the snobby cheerleader in a made-for-TV-movie where the plain but charming underdog was supposed to prevail. I always root for the underdog. !

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! $P!

So small and so slow I could have crushed you to death

If I didn’t look

-Karla Ray!

FIELD NOTE: Widening the Lens to See the Whole Story The pieces of writing I have come across thus far, both poetic and scientific, have supplied me with “lenses” through which I have started to understand the way in which the western pond turtle is seen and understood by the human species. But this is only the beginning of the story. According to the first law of ecology, which states, “everything is connected to everything else,” (Hardin, 200) no species exists on this planet in isolation. So in order to truly understand what the western pond turtle is all about and continue in my search for him, I feel that I first need to understand how he and I share the space within our ecosystem of planet Earth. It is necessary to stand back and “widen the lens,” if you will, in order to see the pond turtle as an active part of his habitat and gain some slice of truth and awareness as to what kind of influence we, as human beings, have on it. For a moment, I want to move past the limits places upon my vision by the boundaries of the written word and forge a more primary connection to the turtle itself through the space we share with it.

FIELD NOTE: Investigations In Woodward Library (Going Where No Arts Student Has Gone Before)

My search for my brown-shelled buddy has led me to push the boundaries of my own familiar UBC habitat into very foreign territory: The Scary Science Library (also known as Woodward). A loyal Arts student to the end, I rarely find myself of the “creative learning space” of the Buchanan buildings. To find myself so far out of foreign territory can be a slightly nerve-wracking experience.

I left class several minutes early today in order to make this journey, as Joanna had helpfully suggested that I check out a series of government pamphlets stored in the reference section that catalogued and provided extensive bios on “animals of concern” in Canada. It was a vague lead, but it was all I had. Maybe if this underdog turtle wasn’t popular enough to earn a tank in the aquarium, I hoped at least it might have garnered some notice from the Canadian Wildlife Service.

After several unsuccessful search attempts with several librarians, I did in fact locate this elusive stack of government publications that Joanna was referring to. Titled “Hinterland Who’s Who”, written by the Canadian Wildlife Service and

! $Y!

You were once a pet. I used to tap on the glass.

I am really sorry.

-Danielle O’Brien!

published by Environment Canada, these pamphlets provided an extensive catalogue of animals of concern. Beginning at 1995 and sifting through to the present, I found:

Black duck, ruffed grouse, American robin, black-capped chickadee, downy woodpecker, killdeer, lesser snow grouse, murres, raccoon, arctic fox, chipmunk, cougar, coyote, eastern gray squirrel, grizzly bear, muskox, North American eagle, sharp skinned hawk, cooper’s hawk, Northern goosehawk, white-tailed deer, beaver, pacific salmon, blue jay, cassin’s anklet, great horned owl, marbled murrelet, semipalmated sandpiper, snowy owl, wood duck, woodchuck, greater snow goose, bald eagle, osprey, swift fox, black bear, caribou, Canada lynx, loggerhead shrike, red fox, whooping crane, American goldfinch, bison, canvasback, evening grosbeak, lemming, loons, northern gammet, ptarmigan, purple martin, striped skunk, redhead, ruby-throated hummingbird, American goldfinch, bison, bufflehead, piping plover, Atlantic puffin, mallard, Atlantic bluebird, harlequin duck, moose, tundra swan, ring-billed gull, peregreen falson, shorebird, herring gull, polar bear, wolf. 68 pamphlets total; 42 birds; 25 mammals; 1 fish; 0 reptiles; 0 turtles 0 Western Pond Turtles Hope is not yet entirely extinguished as I uncover one other pamphlet in the stack titled “Endangered Species in Canada”. Published in 1999, this pamphlet gives a specific report on the status of Canadian endangered species as assessed by the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada (COSEWIC). According to COSEWIC, animals are ranked as follows: EXTINCT: species no longer exist EXTIRPATED: species no longer exist in the wild in Canada, but they occur elsewhere ENDANGERED: species are facing imminent extinction or extirpation THREATENED: species are likely to become endangered if limiting factors are not reversed VULNERABLE: species are of special concern because of characteristics that make them particularly sensitive to human activities or natural events. !

! $Z!

Endangered species I always think tropical Well what do ya know.

-Erik Lane!

Five different species of turtles appear in the “Endangered Species in Canada” Pamphlet: Leatherback Turtle. Endangered Blanding’s Turtle. Threatened Spiny Softshell Turtle. Threatened Spotted Turtle. Vulnerable Wood Turtle. Vulnerable. (Western Pond Turtle. Once again, nowhere to be found.) I am thoroughly disappointed, and I feel quite let down by the Canadian Wildlife Service. I feel that somehow by omitting my turtle from their list of “species of concern”, they are somehow not doing their job. Their job is all about being concerned about animals at risk, and my animal deserves concern! I am trying to find solace at this dead end by attempting to find meaning in its void, but I do not yet know what it is. Suddenly the Woodward library is depressing. Another dead end. FIELD NOTE: One Man’s Swamp is Another Turtle’s Kingdom

As it turned out, Woodward Library was not quite the dead end I first saw it to be. Although the ancient filing cabinets of forgotten relics from the print era proved to hold nothing of value for the western pond turtle, I was able to gain some valuable, albeit dusty, information about its habitat (or should I say, OUR habitat) of the wetlands ecosystem. Although I am still rather annoyed that no one is paying the western pond turtle any specific attention in the British Columbia area, I am pleased to see that his home is at least getting noticed… What Are Wetlands? Environment Canada describes wetlands as “areas that are seasonally or permanently covered by shallow water and areas where the water table is close to or at the surface, and there are water-saturated soils and water-tolerant or water-loving plants. They are transition zones between land and water.” (“Working Around

! %[!

Living sweet pond life Splashing around in the grass

With your cool pond friends

-Kelsey Martens!

Wetlands”, pg.1) By the looks of them, one would hardly know

that the wetlands are one of the most valuable and threatened ecosystems in the world, and may be one of the only remaining “wild” spaces. (“Working Around Wetlands”, pg 1) Generally hiding behind more generic names, such as “pond,” “swamp”, “that gross muddy area”, (2) few people understand what great complexity exists in this habitat. In Canada, “wetlands are everywhere. They are found along the shores of oceans, lakes, rivers, dotted across the prairies, and in countless, poorly-drained depressions in the Canadian shield…. (and) river deltas and estuaries near the shallow bays and inlets along our coasts.” (2, pg 1)

Why Should We Care About the Wetlands?!

“Wetlands are…among the habitats richest in species.” (“Biodiversity” n/p) They provide a unique habitat to a range of species that require the specific combination of water and terrain for feeding, breeding, and nesting (“Wetlands, 2), such as amphibians, reptiles, mammals, migratory birds, waterfowl, and fish. (“Working Around Wetlands”, 3) Wetlands areas are also important in the natural processes of clean water filtration, nutrient cycling, and flood control. (“Great Lakes Fact Sheet,” 9) In a sense, a wetland area “acts like a giant sponge” (“Wetlands” 2) as it soaks up excess rain-water and snowmelt and releases it during drier seasons, preventing the potentially devastating effects of flood an drought (“Wetlands” 2)

Wetlands provide huge value and benefits at little or no cost to human society (“Great Lakes Fact Sheet”, 8), but unfortunately, as stated by Environment Canada

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! %"!

Pond turtle is so fly And although he is sorta shy

He's a damn good guy

-Dylan Gillespie!

themselves: “society has generally only realized the benefit of wetland services after they have disappeared.” (“Great Lakes Factsheet,” 2) Why Are the Wetlands Disappearing? Wetlands areas are disappearing at an alarming rate due to the disruptive actions of human interference (“Great Lakes Factsheet,” 3). Many people regard wetlands areas as mere wasteland, and set out to drain them or fill them in to make the space habitable for humans. (“Wetlands,” 2) In dredging ponds, draining or filling, burning or cutting surrounding weeds and brush, building roads, highways, docks, wetlands areas may be permanently destroyed and made inhabitable for the wildlife that previously thrived there. (“Wetlands,” 3) Pollution in the air and water has also become major concerns, as pesticides, weed killers, and other toxic wastes leak from the soil and take a toll on the plants and animals. (“Wetlands,” 3) $

It seems that hardly anyone raises their hand to complain when the wetlands are leveled to make room for the latest pre-planned housing development – the kind that makes billboard promises of health, wealth, and happiness to all who are lucky enough to cross their thresholds. I suppose that in this time of “more/bigger/better/now” it is easy to forsake what seems to be a trifling amount of land for the greater good of the family in the short term. But decisions for the short term are necessarily short sighted. In the case of a wetland area, the economic benefit of draining or filling it to build housing developments is a trifling matter compared to the long term economic losses that will be sustained from the elimination of natural water filtration systems, erosion control, and sediment trapping, to name a few. (“Great Lakes Fact Sheet,” 9)

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! %#!

!

In water and land Crawling in and then back out

Breathing like magic

-Lisa Rosenberg!

At Walden Pond This is my pond, not mine to own but mine To know the greatness of – to see the chill, Gray ghost of dawn evolving from the water; Or so it seams, and then the sunlit fog Has curled its vapors from my sight: the pond Lies new and silver-blue, shaking the sun’s Light in my face. Was that the loon’s loud laugh, Or was the wilderness once crying out To me? Sometimes I hear; but I don’t know What I have heard (my thoughts were far away), And then my mind rings clear – but not enough; Perhaps there is a sound in silence too. Yet never mind – the pond is fashioned from The dawn into the day; ducks dive in depths Of ooze and quack contentedly. I listen – But there’s too much to hear, to hear a thing. This is my pond, not mine to slip the sleek Fish from, though I do at times. The line I use seems but a cord that fixes me To nature. Such a tie needs careful tending. Or the small hold it has may loose itself And at some superficial joy let go The small hold altogether. Slowly now The day fades into night – and soon the pond In evening lies, a breadth of burnished fire With scattered flames against the sky in gold And green and mauve. And then the gold is gone, And silver-calm and silhouette have come: My pond now has more beauty than I see With mortal eyes. A still merganser slides His glassy way to sheltered rest – so I To mine, though I would gladly stay and wait. -Henry David Thoreau (qtd. In Friesen, 2-3)

! %$!

!

Western pond turtle You look happy in your pond

Soon it will be farm

-Danielle O’Brien!

“… there lay the transparent pond

already calm and full of hope as in a

summer evening”

-Henry David Thoreau (qtd. In Friesen, 2)!

“There are those to whom place is unimportant,

But this place, where sea and fresh water meet,

Is important.”

-Theodore Roethke (qtd. In Vanderbilt, 187)

! %%!

Hey turtle buddy Why are you trying to cross

This busy roadway?

-Alyson Holler!

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that little turtle so lean, so green, what you mean?

I'm hungry now!

-Marco Rowan!

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FIELD NOTE: If This is Your Land, Then Where Are You? Range maps for the Western Pond Turtle from Southern British Columbia to Baja California:

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Little green machine! Chomp! Chomp! Chomp! All your food gone.

Taken by big fish

-Jessica Au!

FIELD NOTE: NOAH’S PET ARK Personal Interview with Graham White, Friday November 6th

A few days ago I found myself hanging out with my friend Craig, who has been playing the part of academic advisor, confidante, and shoulder to cry on in frustration during the scope of this project. On this particular day I was expressing my concern over the fact that my “local species” was in fact no longer local at all, and I was missing out on the opportunity to truly experience it first hand. In talking to my other classm!ates who were wrapping their projects around the idea of

“multi-sensory experience”, I felt I was at a real disadvantage because my species was simply not available to me. At this point Craig, generally the bearer of brilliant ideas, jumped in with the suggestion that I should buy the little miniature pond turtles from the pet store. Although they would not exactly replicate the experience of seeing my true species (which is rarely found in the wild, much less a pet store), it would give me good way to personally try and create that “connection experience” through documenting its care and behavior. I was intrigued by this idea. I knew the turtles he was talking about –the reptile version of the goldfish starter pets – so I set out in my quest to find one. I found myself at the threshold of Noah’s Pet Ark, the pet destination of the West Broadway area, where families and lonely college kids flock regularly to pick our their new best friend. Opening the door, I was immediately hit with the musty hot smell of wood chips and aquarium slime that so characterizes pet stores. I perused the aisles of tanks – mostly fish and small mammals, with a few birds adding to the steady din in the background. There were sparkly fish, big fish, ugly fish, decorative rocks in six different colors, floating plastic plant life (just about everyway possible to make your pet feel more at home in captivity), but no pond turtles to be found.

I located Graham White, the owner and proprietor of Noah’s Pet Ark, and inquired about how exactly one would go about buying a miniature pond turtle. He looked rather surprised by my question, and replied (with a mildly horrified look) that he “does not sell pond turtles.” I inquired as to why this was the case, as I definitely

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Little pond turtle Keep trying to save yourself

I believe in you

-Suzanne Best

remember some childhood friends having turtles as pets, so I assumed it could not be too unusual a request. He went on to explain to me that it was simply his personal policy, as the majority of people who come in to purchase pond turtles for their curious children are simply not prepared to handle the long term care they require. When little Mikey, Sally, or Michelle grows out of her turtle pet and the parents no longer care to clean the aquarium, the turtles are most often released into the wild, where more often than not, they meet their untimely demise on the highways or under lawnmowers. He paused for a moment, clearly wanting to drive home his next point, and went on to tell me that turtles are the number one abandoned pets in the Greater Vancouver Area. But regardless of the turtle’s safety after it has been set free, allowing non-native turtles (as pet turtles must be by law) to enter into the habitat can have unsettling and potentially devastating effects on the ecosystem, for example taking already scarce habitat and food sources from the turtles native to the area.

I immediately felt guilty, as I saw myself as one of the people who might have bought their creature on a whim, without stopping to consider the commitment that I would be making to its long life span. But I was newly curious, however, about the firm rules of the reptile pet business. I suppose having never had pets growing up (allergies and nomadic lifestyle preventing), I never gave much though to what was “allowed.” I asked Graham, “If you do not sell non-native turtles, what about species that are native to this area?”

Graham replied that provincial legislation prevents native species to be sold as pets. As so many do end up being released into the wild, he tells me, it completely disrupts all efforts of population control and stabilization. In order to have come control over the species growth, predator control, and habitat needs, they need to know that all wild turtles came from natural breeding in the wild, not Timmy’s broken terrarium. In other words, Graham finished, pets stay in the home, and native species stay in the wild.

Although I didn’t find my miniature pond turtle, I did not leave Noah’s Ark feeling discouraged. Thanks to Graham, I was able to sidestep the trap of being an unfit turtle owner and further contributing to the current plight of abandoned reptiles in the area.

As I review the situation, it’s looking like I might have exhausted my resources in the Greater Vancouver Area. I need to expand my search beyond my immediate habitat and focus on where the turtle actually is – not where he is supposed to be, even if that takes me far from my home and my comfort zone

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Bullfrogs, kids, and guns Better hide in the mud now

Bad day for turtles

-Jess Gibson!

EXPLORATION: ART IMITATING LIFE/LIFE IMITATING ART I am late, as usual. I have mistimed the busses, and I am afraid that I will miss the opening of our field trip to the Vancouver Art Gallery. I am not yet entirely sure how this particular adventure will relate to our projects in progress, so I feel this necessary need to soak up instruction wherever it is available. The #3 bus strains to roll me through the less savory areas of downtown, and I feel that I do not have the luxury of red lights and stop signs. We finally pull up to the last stop, and after a few blocks on foot I find myself in front of the Vancouver

Art Gallery. Its location directly at the heart of the downtown districts has given it the identity of a kind of symbol that speaks to the intersection of culture that takes place here. Inside, cherished works of high art are displayed with the respectful sincerity of vaulted ceilings and hushed voices, while on the front entrance steps teenage stoners kill time in between half hearted attempts at skateboard tricks. By the side of the fountain at Hornby street, the bicycle couriers double-fist coffee and cigarettes on a five minute break, while at the back steps the latest group of grassroots activists attempts to rally the tourist crowd around their current cause. On any given day, this odd cultural cross-section thrives with these personalities as necessary ingredients for the final result. They are an urban symbiotic relationship if you will, sharing lighters and jokes as they shift in and out of the landscape. I catch the eye of a courier friend of mine, waving as he mounts his bike and rides away. As I cross the doorway into the art gallery lobby I consciously remember to include myself in this urban ecosystem. The gallery smells cold and sterile, and I hurriedly deposit my bag and run up the stairs and quickly as possible to catch up with the class. I find Laurie on the third floor, the perfect picture of calm as he stands before a large print of maple trees covered in snow. I don’t know why, but I feel like this is exactly where I expected to find him. I think he is a bit amused by my flustered state, and he cracks a half-smile while relaying to me the orders of the day. I am to be an art critic for the day, he tells me, and select a piece that strikes me in such a way that I might be able to see something in it that all others would miss. Afterwards we will regroup and “teach” our pieces to the rest of the class. In the telling it seems to be such a simple task, but by this time I have come to some realization of the depth of connection that Laurie is trying to obtain from us in these field trips, and it requires a very

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You open up wide Snapping your mouth at nothing

Just feeble attempts

-Nick Zirk!

deliberate stretching of the mind, spirit, and imagination. I leave Laurie to his musings on maple saplings and make my way through the labyrinth of rooms to find the piece that will “speak to me”. The collection they are currently showing is exquisite. I can easily see how they should elicit inspiration from us, seeing as they are mostly representations of habitat as it illustrates the connected relationship between man and nature. I heard once that Gary Snyder was inspired by Japanese paintings of American habitat landscapes. I have no idea whether this is true or not, but I can easily see how poetry could arise from these visual expressions of space. I am lost for choice, and our time is limited. I pass by early Canadian watercolors, bright oil images of triumphant trappers, humble charcoal Emily Carr sketches depicting criss-cross landscapes of totem poles…. But finally I do select, with just enough time to spare to rejoin the group downstairs for our self-directed “art class”.

One by one we lead each other back through the gallery space, stopping on each of the pieces chosen for discussion so that we can impart its hidden knowledge to the rest of the class. Ally takes us to a lush and grandiose painting of a waterfall encased within an overly gilded frame, and points out the tiny spectators painted into the shadows as they overlook the bubbles of oil foaming at the bottom. Derrick leads us across the room to a less imposing image of a forest scene on a hillside, and with a manner of quiet authority he points out the areas of new growth that interrupt the ancient trees. I am amazed at how he can so clearly see such distinct levels of forest age through the brushstrokes. As each person steps up to speak about their piece, I notice how our personal backgrounds and current

species research have leaked into our analysis of these works and shape the lens through which we perceive the scene. One by one we carry on, and I begin to feel a pattern emerging. It may only be an over-reaching perception in an attempt to stretch for the desired connection, but I am convinced that as we have travelled through the rooms our chosen works of art have illustrated the modern history of the perception of man’s relationship to “wilderness”. We began at the tiny figures first overcome by the power of the nature, then the first attempts at harnessing its power as a resource. We experienced the taming of nature for recreation, and at last the final death of the “wild” in the face of “civilization”. And as we arrive at the end of this life cycle/gallery tour, I am overcome by the feeling that the work of art that I have chosen provides a beautiful and poignant visual ending to this relationship. I guide the class up to the third floor, through room after room and finally into the smallest corner in the very back of the gallery. Unlike the rest of the pristine whitewashed walls, the walls in this

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Hey Turtle! Buddy! I would pat you on the back

But you can’t feel it.

-Karla Ray!

corner have been painted a dusky charcoal grey. Single lights exist to illuminate each one of their featured artworks, setting them in dramatic relief from the shadowy backgrounds. I stand before my selected piece: a rather small photograph in a series depicting the remains of a decrepit work shed. We strain to see the details in the picture; the darkness in the room makes it difficult to pick out the outlines of the rusted chains folded over the rotting wood of the workbench. I trace my finger around the edges, pointing out all the details that had stood out to me when I looked at it the first time. Gradually it comes to a rest at the bottom left as it points out a tiny folded shape in the corner. I myself had stood before this photograph for several minutes before I saw it: a delicate vine of ivy curling itself around the rotting bench, interrupting the decay with striking green. I continue talking to the rest of the class, explaining that when I first noticed the fragment of plant, I saw it not as a random part of the decaying shed, but a very deliberate representation of a slice of nature fighting back from the boundaries of “civilization” that have been forced upon it. Looking upon that picture, I saw what a temporary joke that mankind is to Mother Nature. We build structures and infrastructures and borders and boundaries, all to hold her at bay... and for a time it seems that we are successful. But the moment we abandon our place in a landscape, she will once more rise up and consume all evidence of our existence. Only the soil will remember as it tells roots and stones the joke that was once called modern man. I am pulled out of my reverie by Laurie, as he reminds us that he still has a piece of artwork to share with us – notably also a photograph. He leads us back to the impressively large print of Maple trees where I first found him, and we gather around. I enjoy the aesthetics and the subject matter, but it is not until Laurie begins his explanation of the shadows that I see the hidden detail: it is not, in fact, a single shot, but a series of layered shots overlapped and combined to show a fracturing of time in a single frame. I am impressed, and a little annoyed I did not notice it myself. It brings to mind the subject of lenses – not simply the lens of a camera, but in the way that every work of art or poetry is a vision through the perceptual lens of its creator. The viewer/reader is bound by the details available, forced to create their own reality from the portrayal without knowing the full story behind the canvas, camera, book cover, etc.

We stare at the Maple trees together, but I suddenly feel disconnected from my classmates as I come to the realization that although we share this experience, we will always be separated by the lenses through which we see it. We are once removed. Close but empty.!

! &"!

sitting on a log a frog, a bug, some slime mold

the turtles best friends

-Marco Rowan!

FIELD NOTES: Meeting “Andrea” Phone Interview, October 16th, 2009 Upon leaving the aquarium the girls at the front desk were able to provide me with a contact number for someone “Andrea,” with the face explanation that she might be able to help me in my quest. Following up on this contact number proved to be more difficult than expected. We played an extensive game of phone tag where my eagerness to get a hold of her was tempered only by the frightening realization that I really had no idea what to ask her. At this point I wasn’t even entirely sure what her role in the aquarium was, as up to now I had only known her as the extension number of “someone who might know more”. In my voicemails I tried to give the impression that I was doing a very important and mature research project, and that I was also probably very important and mature, so she should definitely take me seriously and lend me her expertise. However, my lack of a formal interview script left me feeling a little bit nervous when we finally were able to talk. The elusive “Andrea” was in fact Andrea Cotter, herpetologist for the Vancouver Aquarium. We exchanged the necessary pleasantries, but as we turned towards the subject of the phone call it became clear that she was still a little confused as to why I was calling her, and what it was I wanted. I guess I was still asking myself that question too. On the surface, I suppose I just wanted more information about where else I could find the western pond turtle around Vancouver, but I felt like I needed something else – something that would help me reconcile my previous disappointing experience at the aquarium. I began with a fairly vague inquiry about the whereabouts of the turtle, asking politely if she could recommend any other organizations or institutions where I could continue my search for this elusive underdog. She was more than happy to help me, and although her cheerful tone was genuine I sensed that she was a bit amused by my dedication to finding such a forgotten creature. Andrea pointed me in the direction of some excellent resources – some of which I had heard of already, and some of which would prove to further me in my quest – as well as some names of people at the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle, and the Oregon Zoo in Portland (both of which were much more involved in western pond turtles, she explained). As I quickly jotted these names down, it suddenly occurred to me what my real question for Andrea was. I asked her, “If western pond turtles are at such risk that they have essentially been eliminated from the area, why does the Vancouver Aquarium

! &#!

Ancient reptilian Holding all the world’s secrets

On your carapice

-Jessica Au!

focus so much more on exotic imported species, such as the giant sea turtles, rather than put a spotlight on disappearing local species?” She paused for a moment, perhaps to search for an answer. I heard her sigh, and then she began to explain. She told me that in the 1970s and 1980s, when the aquarium was undergoing a major expansion, the popular conservation topic at the time was saving the Amazon rainforest. Whoever was holding the purse strings at the time felt that the way in which the aquarium could contribute most to those conservation efforts, particularly in the way of education, was to bring as much of the rainforest to Vancouver as possible. In this way they could expose the citizens of Vancouver to the habitat and wildlife of faraway places by letting them see it in “real life,” thereby drumming as much international cause and concern as possible. She went on to explain that although the Amazon rainforest doesn’t have quite the same conservationist cache that it once did, there has been no push to expand space to accommodate for local reptiles at risk, such as the western pond turtle and its peers. There is simply no demand for them. It was so disarming to realize, once again, that the turtle that I had come to care so much about was simply not on anyone else’s conservation radar. Nobody seemed to remember, or care where the western pond turtle had gone. I felt that my questions had been answered to the best extent they could be at this moment. I thanked Andrea for her time, and as we were signing off she reminded me to come in again and “take another look at the sea turtles.”

And I said, “Of course I will, Andrea. Of course.”

EXPLORATION #4: CITY KIDS ON THE FARM

We are still walking distance from the engineering classroom buildings and the fraternity houses, but as we pile out of our respective automobiles, all gumboots and winter coats, and survey the landscape around us, university life seems many, many miles away. Our latest planned excursion has taken us right to the edge of campus and onto the rough and wild-looking grounds of the UBC farm, where another graduate student, Andrew, has graciously lent us his time to take us on a tour of the grounds and tell us the story of the agriculture that occupies this plot of earth.

We group together and walk up to the main office building to meet Andrew, also known as the academics coordinator of the farm. I pull my jacket closer around

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Western Pond Turtle Or Pacific Pond Turtle

The last of it's kind.

-Justin Longoz!

my neck and look around at my classmates. Ally catches my eye and smiled as she says, “I feel like I’m in kindergarten…”

I can’t help but notice how true her innocent statement rings. In all of our outings so far there has been a tangible level of interest and inspiration amongst the group of us, but there was something about this particular adventure to the farm that seems to be breeding a sense of excitement that is turning us into a class full of eager and giggly children. Perhaps it is the nostalgia of the “field trip” and all the excitement it held as an elementary school student, but in as I overhear whispered comments such as “I’m so in love with the farm,” I am convinced it is something more. After so many hours, so many years going from classroom box, to library box, to apartment box, and back again, I imagine few of us can remember when we had the last opportunity to go outside and see the subject matter we are studying reflected back at us in the form of living beings. The idea of going outside and playing in the dirt is so childlike, but so essential in making personal connections to the dynamic scope of the ideas of ecology and eco-criticism.

Andrew asks us to gather around and he begins to introduce the farm to us. He is a slight man, with a permanent half-smile in the corners of his eyes. As he talks, I realize that the half-smile I am seeing is a reflection of true passion and joy in his work. His speech is eager, and he barely takes a breath as he leads us down the pathway towards the agricultural grounds. Having never been here before, I am not sure exactly what to expect, but I am surprised that the landscape seems to be missing the endless parallel lines that usually classifies a scene into farmland. But before I can eve think to ask, “Where does the farm start?” Andrew is answering my question.

As he leads us like a shepherd with a herd, he sweeps his arm around the expanse of land and announces that their goal is not to create a “farm” in the expected, modern sense of the word, but to create an ecosystem where numerous crops can thrive together, mimicking the growth patterns and partnerships that occur in their natural habitats. Although it may seem like a supposedly random assortment of crops would be an ineffectual way of making an income from agriculture, Andrew assures us that this is in fact the most efficient way for a small (ie: not part of a hierarchical corporate structure) farm to operate. Should the weather lean towards too hot or too cold, or should there be a disease that wipes out a single crop, the sustainable farmer is able to sidestep the devastation because he has a variety of crops that may have been thriving in the process. As Andrew is

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Green, brown, and patterned Nature spent some time on you

Small but amazing

-Kristin Lehman!

pointing out the various species of plants and animals that are involved in this balanced farmland, I am reminded of the basic philosophy behind martial arts: if one works with the energy, as opposed to against it, one will be more successful. I believe the same goes with Mother Nature – there is no need to make her the opponent

But these theories of using community habitat and ecosystem balance as guidelines in structural planning do not stop in the field, but rather continue beyond the apple trees and beehives and into the human community, existing barely hidden behind the wind-breaking trees. As Andrew explains to us, the goal of the farm is to make it a personal experience, involving the local community in such a way that we can place ourselves in the agricultural space and feel more connected to where our food comes from. This is your farm, he tells us. You can come here every day and walk around, ask about the crops, or even join onto one of the volunteer crews that work every harvest season to bring the fruit and vegetables from the ground to the market. There are no closed doors here, he says to us, because this land belongs to everybody.

Unfortunately, the whole “this land is your land, this land is my land” attitude is not shared by everybody, most specifically the suits who have been viewing the farmland with dollar signs in their eyes. As Andrew explains, the obscene structures of Westbrook condominiums threaten on a daily basis to overtake the farm space, of which a significant amount has already been parceled off and sold. But that is just it – taking over SPACE, rather than building PLACE, is what motivates structures such as the Westbrook development. People who are making decisions with only the bottom line in mind tend to forget the long-term value in creating community connection and attachment, which is one of the basic values that the entire UBC Farm structure is based upon. Andrew provides us with such examples as their various education and family programs, as well as the CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) Produce Box that can be purchased at the beginning of the year, allowing the individual to “invest in the land,” if you will.

Looking around at my classmates, I can see some depth of emotion in everyone’s eyes. Perhaps it is our generation, or maybe we are exceptionally influenced by the “green culture” in Vancouver, but I think all of us would be devastated to lose this valuable land. It is devastating to me that we may be one of the last classes who has the opportunity to come on a “field trip” and watch our studies in action amongst the turnips and the chickens.

As always, time was running shorter than we would have liked, and long before we were prepared to leave we found ourselves walking back toward the direction of civilization. Just as we were leaving the park, I noticed a big yellow school bus pulling into the grounds and releasing a gaggle of young shrieking school children onto the farmland. “Enjoy it while you can, kids,” I said to myself, “enjoy it while you can. I make a mental note to buy a CSA Produce Box next year. Once again, I am rooting for the underdog.!

! &&!

Grey leathery skin Rough scales like the dinosaurs

From another time

-Alec McLean!

FIELD NOTE: The Commoditization of Nature

The UBC Farm provides an opportunity for everyone in the community to see and experience successful sustainable agriculture in action. As Andrew presented it to us, it is a viable and sensible alternative to the modern farming techniques, but few people support or take advantage of it. I believe this is a result of the common don’t know/don’t care attitude that befalls our society in this day and age. First of all, few people truly realize the ecosystem damage sustained at the hands of modern agriculture, only seeing instead the rippling stalks of wheat that scream “Health!” “Prosperity!” and “Pastoral Values!” at the minivans passing by. Secondly, although some people are aware, protecting the earth from some vague and unseen notion of “habitat damage” is outweighed by the convenience of driving to the nearest supermarket to pick up shiny, bug-free imported fruits and veggies. To us, the idea of the traditional farm has become so entrenched in our symbolic memory that we forget that real nature does not look like modern field-and-grid-style farming, that author Freya Mathews has termed the “Euclidian approach. (Mathews, 199) As Mathews describes it:

“…it imposes a conceptual grid of straight lines on land, and land is then parceled up into the discrete, usually rectangular “blocks” of the surveyors plan. The blocks are treated as separate entities, generally leveled or otherwise physically modified to constitute the black sheet that can then accommodate the designs of its subsequent ‘owners.’ In this process little if any account is taken of the contents even of adjoining blocks, let alone the character of the region at large. The bumps and curves of actual things, the particularity of the actual ground on which we stand, is regarded as incidental, contingent: the world as it is given to us is mere scenery, a manifold of appearances that can be replaced and rearranged, like theatrical backdrops, to suit our convenience.” (Mathews 199) This grid-style agricultural system can be seen as the symbol of a cut-and-

conquer attitude held by early settlers, who “saw themselves as conquerors or ‘Lone Heroes’ whose purpose was to enter, subdue, and make the land fruitful, bringing culture and civilization to nature.” (Strang, 125) The success of farming in modern

! &'!

Scarring in your face Tractors? Or maybe mowers?

People have been cruel

-Danielle O’Brien!

culture has been defined purely in the terms of “maximizing agricultural productivity and wealth.” (Worster, 85) However, such productivity seem suddenly terribly inefficient when it is coupled with the costs of land and habitat restoration that will be necessary to keep the ecosystem in an, albeit precarious, balance.

A perfect example of this tragic miscalculation can be seen in the plight of the western pond turtle and its wetlands habitat. Wetlands areas have been reduced by as much as ninety percent, and the destruction shows little sign of letting up. (“Biodiversity”) The benefits that were once reaped naturally via the land must now be reproduced artificially. However, as there is “no direct market for services such as clean water, maintenance of biodiversity, and flood control,” (“Great Lakes Factsheet, 1) these ecosystem costs are hardly ever taken into consideration. That is, until someone is looking for a turtle that was once common, and is now nowhere to be found.

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Western Pond Turtle I would invite you over

But I can’t find you

-Mark Ahmadi!

FIELD NOTE: Looking at the Woodland Park Zoo*

(*All following factual information taken from “Western Pond Turtle Factsheet.” Woodland Park Zoo Online)

Since 1990 they have been collaborating on a joint head-starting project “to secure the future of the western pond turtle in Washington. With a team of

researchers and volunteers, females turtles are tracked to their nests, which the team then fits with protective ex-closures to protect them from predators, and also keep the hatchlings from wandering away when they have hatched. When the hatchlings have emerged from the nest in the fall, they are collected and taken to the zoo facility for a

“head-start” in life. During this time they are kept warm and well fed, until they have outgrown many of their predators and are strong enough to survive in the wild. Although the western pond turtle is still considered an endangered species in the state of Washington, the head-start program has so far been a huge success. When it began in 1990, there were only two wild populations of western pond turtles left in the entire state, numbering an estimated 150-200 turtles total. In 2006, almost 1,000 hatchlings were released into the wild from the head-start program, and observation and recapture have proved that they are surviving well. In addition, four adult turtles have been selected from the Puget Sound Region for a captive breeding program, which at this time has at this time produced thirty hatchlings, most of which have been released into protected pond habitats in Pierce County, Washington.

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! &Y!

Travelling Turtle Always your home on your back

The sign of nomads

-Alita Costa!

FIELD NOTE: The Washington State Western Pond Turtle Recovery Project* (*All following factual information taken from “The Washington State Western Pond Turtle Project”) HISTORY

The Washington State Western Pond Turtle Project was borne out of the efforts of Frank Slavens, Curator of Reptiles at the Woodland Park Zoo, and his partner Kate Slavens, of the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife and the Woodland Park Zoo. From 1985 to 1990, surveys had confirmed the decline of the species throughout the state. “Whereas the western pond turtle had been described as ‘common’ in the Puget Sound area, it was now virtually extinct.” (Slavens, 1). With the species already in a precarious position during the year of 1990, Dan Holland, a researcher for the Washington Department of Wildlife who was currently surveying the remaining turtles, witnessed a devastating respiratory disease attack the remaining turtles in the area. Approximately 25% of the population was killed within a matter of months.

One hopeful situation did arise from this tragedy, however, in that Dan Holland and his crew had managed to locate six turtle nests an protect them with exclosures in order to protect them from predatation and destruction. The idea was that these hatchlings could be collected in September, and then “head-started” before they were released back into the wild. The only problem arose, however, in that there was simply no space available to house the hatchlings at the zoo, as they were already caring for turtles that had been recovered from the epidemic. This is where Frank and Kate stepped in, literally opening their Seattle home to the turtle hatchlings, and caring for them in their basement from September 1990 until February 1991.

By now a thriving partnership had been formed between the Washington Department of Wildlife, the Woodland Park Zoo, and Frank and Kate Slavens, based on a mutual dedication to saving the western pond turtle and reverse its pattern of rapid decline. The biggest concern in the area of western Washington was the destruction of viable habitat and the draining of the wetlands to make room for lakeside houses, as well as further population damage done by private poaching from the pet and restaurant industries. On top of that, there was major concern about the rampant population growth of bullfrogs and certain fish that had been introduced as non-native predators into the area. “The prospect of recovery was grim.” (Slavens, 2)

! &Z!

Western Pond Turtle, You are elusive and sexy, Much like the Sasquatch.

-Scott Williams!

CONSERVATION IN THE FIELD

In the summer of 1991, eight adult turtles (survivor of the epidemic), were outfitted with transmitters and re-released into the wild, and the project team quickly learned how to locate the turtles using telemetry. For the remainder of 1991 and through to 1993, they continued to survey the turtles, watching for nesting females, and killing as many of the rampant bullfrogs at they could get their hands on, day and night. From 1994 until today, the project team has grown to be a formidable and dedicated force, incorporating a team of volunteers:

“(The volunteers) trap turtles each spring, transmitter females, monitor the females through the nesting season. These volunteers are not professional biologists; they are people from many walks of life sharing a love for turtles and a dedication to the project. They are willing to brave cold, wet, hot, and windy weather. They are willing to check a turtle at

0500 or 2300 or both, depending on the turtle. They are willing to sleep in tents pitched in very old barns, eat lots of bologna sandwiches, encounter rattlesnakes, and smash bullfrogs. They are very special people.” (Slavens, 3)

Between April 1st and May 15th of each year, the team sets out trap the turtles. Each is examined, measured, weighed, and marked with a WDFW number so that their statistics can be charted over the years. The adult females will have transmitters glued to their carapaces before they are released back into the pond in order for the team to track them to their nesting sites. Once a female has been released, the telemetry begins immediately. Her position will be tracked once a day until May 15th, at which point they are tracked every two hours

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Shell on your back You can hide if you get scared

Tuck in head and legs

-Dylan Gillespie!

from 9:00 am until 9:00 pm every day until the female has nested. This continues until July 15th. The team then buries temperature and humidity sensors next to the nests, and covers the entire nesting site with a protective exclosure to keep potential predators, especially bullfrogs, out. When the eggs have hatched, the team collects the hatchlings and transports them to either the Woodland Zoo or the Oregon Zoo for head-starting. The rate of survival and success of the hatchlings re-released into the wild has been proved the efforts of the team to be extremely successful.

LOOKING AHEAD

Other zoos in the Puget Sound area have shown interest in starting their own head-start programs, as well as captive breeding programs. Recovery of western pond turtle populations looks promising, but there is still a long road ahead. “Full recovery is a slow process with a species that naturally has low recruitment. The commitment has been made by The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, the Woodland Park Zoo, and a stubborn group of volunteers* to see it through and hopefully, within our lifetime, we will succeed.” (Slavens, 4)!

*Of which, next spring, one of them will be me!

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Cannot believe how sad Is this turtle’s existence.

Weeps alone slowly.

-Justin Longoz!

FIELD NOTE: Talking With Frank Slavens

I sit down at one of the tables outside the Vancouver Public Library, successfully poaching it from some Starbucks or Blenz customer. I spread out my notebook, and pens in front of me. I take out my cell phone and I begin to dial the foreign area code…

After some back-and-forth correspondence, I have finally managed to arrange a phone appointment with Frank Slavens, who, with his wife Kate, heads up the Washington State Western Pond Turtle Project. In reading about his work, I found myself to be so inspired by the personal investment he seemed to have in the conservation of the western pond turtle, especially in contrast with others to whom I have spoken that seemed to have little or no interest in its disappearance. When I had earlier emailed him about my inquiries on what drives him to do this work, he replied back with the almost cheeky response, “I have no idea what drives me to do anything.” However, I was almost convinced that there had to be more to the story – I wanted to find out what it was about the turtles, or Frank for that matter, that inspired him to dedicate a good portion of his life to them – to open his very home to them.

I dial the number and let it ring. A male voice answers, slow and deliberate in tone. I take this to be Frank and I introduce myself, trying to hide my nervousness as much as possible. I start out by explaining the scope of my project and the conservationist lean it has been taking, and how the Western Pond Turtle Project has been a central focus in my research, especially in the personal dedication that he and his wife Kate have lent to the conservation efforts….

As I pause, Frank jumps in and tells me that this is, in fact, his last year on the project, as he intends to retire. After 19 years, he tells me, the time has come when he feels he can step away from it and oversee it from afar. He goes on to explain that when the project began in 1990, when he was the current reptile curator at the Woodland Park Zoo (a connection I did not realize until now, and I file it away to ask him about further), he and Kate would commute the 500 mile round trip from Seattle down to the Gorge in Washington to collect hatchlings during from April 1 to July 15. As Frank tells me, the inefficiency of this commute became apparent and they began staying down at the field site for extended periods of time, first with tents, then trailers, and after that a barn with electricity. As the team and the project grew,

! '#!

I had a turtle When I was young and smaller

Turtle was small too

-Sarah Bennett!

Frank explains, more resources were needed, so six years ago a house was built so they could stay on the site all season. As the city became further and further from their lives, he and Kate sold their home in Seattle and moved into the field property full time. As I hear Frank tell me about this, something about the sound of his house reminds me about my Papa’s land, and I can’t help but romanticize it a little bit.

I point the conversation back to his comment about retiring, asking if this means that there is no longer a need for a recovery plan, as I was quite sure they were still listed as an endangered species in Washington state. Frank tells me bluntly that there is always a need for more turtles, but there just is just simply no habitat. After a pause he elaborates, explaining that the Woodland Park Zoo will be taking over the administration of the project in conjunction with their head-start program, but at this time they have nearly achieved the goals they set for themselves in 1990, which calls for four populations in Oregon of which no more than 80% are adults, and three populations in Washington of which no more than 80 % are adults. This year, 2009, the team was able to collect 1,600 hatchlings for their head-start program – an astronomical increase from when they started out in 1990, and definitely a testament to the success of the project. Frank tells me that right now there are thirty transmittored females out in the field, over half of which are head-starts, and at least thirty more head-started turtles out in the ponds that they are not following with transmittors. As he pauses I remark how wonderful it is that you can see them come back – to truly see the success of the work.

I then turn the conversation from the project to the turtle itself, and my curiosity as to why so little attention is paid to it. I recount to Frank my trip to the Aquarium, and explain that whenever I ask about the western pond turtle, people either don’t know what I am talking about, or they can’t figure out why I care so much about it. I ask Frank for some insight, and he is not surprised. He tells me that they used to be extremely common, but ever since they started disappearing in the late seventies and early eighties, nobody ever saw them. He says to me, “They just don’t exist anymore.”

At this comment I feel more than a twinge of compassion for my underdog turtle friend. How are you supposed to survive in a world when nobody notices you are gone?

I tell Frank that it has been my observation that those who are involved in the conservation of the western pond turtle seem to be extremely passionate and dedicated to its cause. I ask him, what is it about the pond turtle that inspires you?

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Ancient reptile King of the pond animals

Basking on your log

-Tim Long!

dedicated to its cause. I ask him, what is it about the pond turtle that inspires you? Essentially, what drove you to be where you are? I think I can hear Frank chuckle a little bit, and he says, “The Tokay Gecko.”

“The what Gecko?” I replied, sure that I had misheard him. “The Tokay Gecko,” Frank says again. He explains to me that when he was a

child he saw a Tokay Gecko hanging on the side of its glass, and he thought to himself, how do they do that….? From there, he tells me, his personal interest in reptiles was born. He began learning about reptiles, going to the zoo…. But when he asked the question, “Do you breed these?” The answer came back “No.”

Frank told me the thought to himself, if all of these animals are going extinct? Why doesn’t anybody know how to breed them? That question became a driving interest in his life, and fast forward 40 years, Frank found himself the Reptile Curator at the Woodland Park Zoo. Frank told me that he has always had an affinity for turtles, so when the Department of Wildlife approached him about doing captive breeding with the western pond turtle, he says, “It seemed only logical.” Frank tells me they were able to capture five adults, and the wild turtles currently in the field are mostly offspring from those original adults.

I then ask Frank about a comment he made earlier, about a lack of space for the turtles. I ask him, “Is this really a problem of habitat destruction?”

“Everything,” Frank replies, suddenly raising his tone. “Habitat destruction. People. It’s wall to wall people.” Frank pauses for a moment, and then continues, “They’re not gonna live there. It’s all people, concrete, pets, cars, driveways…. There is no habitat left. Not in Everett to South of Olympia. It’s all… gone. It’s just people. That’s all habitat, and it’s going away….” I can hear his voice soften and trail off a little bit. “These animals need space. There’s just no space left.”

I realize that without knowing it I have found the answer as to what drives him in his work. In only a tone of his voice, I realize that this is something that touches Frank Slavens deeply. In talking with me about the project, he was able to rattle off numbers and remembered facts without any lingering emotion in his voice, but suddenly, when we get to the real factors that matter, I can hear how much he cares. As he continues, I realize that for Frank Slavens, conservation is not a movement or a new concern…. It just is. It is his life.

He says to me, “You just see something that needs doing, and you do it. “What you got better to do?”

I am touched and silenced by this simple question, because the fact is, I have no!

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Western pond turtle. You used to be everywhere

What happened to you?

-Lindsay Jones!

answer to it. Nobody does. There is nothing that can be more important than saving the world we live on, and all the species we share it with.

We end our conversation with some talk about a potential volunteer opportunity for me to help collect hatchlings next spring. I only realize after I hang up the phone that I had not planned anything about turtles, or the collecting of turtle hatchlings next year…. It really just came about as an organic concern of mine – after spending so long studying with these turtles, I really just want to lend my time and hands to help in any way I can. As Frank might say, it’s only logical. (

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Turtle I shall play.

-Asia Brumwell!

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PART THREE:

THE WORLD ON YOUR BACK

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Sitting on your log What are you thinking about

In your small pond world?

-Ewan Ross!

EXPLORATION: PAINT WITH LANGUAGE

I arrive in class today ready for our latest adventure in habitat studies. Laurie is absent today, but in his place we have the pleasure of Laurie’s PhD student and poet, Sonnet. (Could there be any better name for a poet, really?) We arrive with sketchbooks and crayons in hand, armored from the weather in our rubber boots and raincoats. We still have no idea what the task ahead of us will be, but by this time we have learned to be prepared for whatever surprise Laurie might throw at us.

The weather, however, proves too daunting even for us today. I doubt that anyone is disappointed when Sonnet announces that our “Nature Art Class” will have to take place indoors with borrowed outdoor specimens. She produces a few potted plants, each with its own personality and aesthetics, and explains that today we will be illustrating how what we see in them. I can’t help but remember our Art Gallery field trip – but where in the gallery I was playing the part of art critic, here I will actually be producing the art that expresses the very nuances of our connection to nature, even as it is contained in the form of a potted houseplant.

Sonnet instructs us to first craft a few lines of text expressing these plants, and then complete a series of timed drawing exercises. Upon completion of our drawings we will then take another stab at verbal expression, the idea being that after a multisensory exploration of the plant through artistic illustration we would have access to a greater depth of poetry through which to express it in words. Feeling quite like a child with my crayons spread around me, I am once again aware of the immense value in seeing a living being up close in real life. I already feel that my sixty-four colors will be inadequate to represent the refractions of fluorescent light, or the transparencies of young chlorophyll flesh at the tip of each leaf. Colored wax to paper, I trace the brilliant Crayola dye across the paper in an effort to catch the movement in the lines and angles between stems and leaves. Never being much of a life drawer myself, I generally tend to stick with colors and shapes that produce an abstract energy rather than struggle in an attempt to reproduce what Mother Nature has already perfected in her uniqueness.

I steal glances at my classmates’ papers in an attempt to see how we are executing this creative assignment, and I am once again struck at our own perfect uniqueness, evident in the dramatically different ways we choose to “express” through artwork the plant species before us. Where I draw abstract representations, another paper contains deliberate sketches that place each leaf exactly where it should be. I see one paper that is filled to the borders with a tangle of branches, and another that places the plant as an afterthought in a classroom scene – a representation of its current habitat, if you will.

I sometimes forget how different the lenses are through which we each forge our connections of place and being in the space around us. Every painting, photo or poem is a production of these lenses, and thus becomes not a representation of the habitat around us, but a representation of a tiny slice of the artist’s personal

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Well lah di damn dah! Wish I could carry my house.

Turtle, stuff yourself.

-Harrison Cowan!

relationship with the world. The time runs out and we drop our pencils and crayons, ready to share with

the rest of the class our literary and pictorial expressions of the inner spirit of potted plants. I am so fantastically pleased and pleasantly surprised to hear the poetic musings of my classmates. From finely detailed lyrical descriptions to verses that would not be out of place at a beat poetry slam, I am so aware of our individual lenses and viewpoints. I do not know if it is a direct result of our current ongoing species project, but I feel so much more moved by the simplistic beauty that surrounds me on a daily basis than I did ten weeks ago.

We are such creatures of our habitats.

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FIELD NOTE: ATTEMPTING TO UNRAVEL MYTHOLOGY

In my process of burrowing deeper and deeper into the realms of literature relating to the western pond turtle, I realized that so much of what I was pulling out was related to ancient mythology, specifically that of First Nations and Native American culture (which seemed fitting considering the rich history of First Nations and North American cultures within the geographical range of the western pond turtle). The fact that these literary images continued to show up seemed to me a very poignant point in the concept of “connectivity” because language, stories, and poetry are all indicative of the relationship a group of people have with its environment, and “each cultural group interacts with the landscape in a way that is consistent with the particular beliefs and values that knit each of their cultural forms into a coherent whole.” (Strang, 178) In this way mythology provides the reader with an entirely new lens with which to explore the way in which traditional native culture illustrates its own connectedness to their natural landscape.

Simply put, mythology is the story of oneself in a place (Lippard, 33). But further, mythology is about dialogue with natural place (Kane, 14), and is directly connected with the idea of the “interanimation” of a place (Bryson, 11), which linguistic anthropologist Keith Basso describes in this way:

“As places animate the ideas and feelings of persons who attend to then, these same ideas and feelings animate the places on which attention has been bestowed, and the movements of this process – inward toward facets of the self, outward toward aspects of the external, world, alternatively both together – cannot be known in advance. When places are actively sensed, the physical landscape becomes wedded to the landscape of the mind, to the roving imagination, and where the mind may lead is anybody’s guess.” (Bryson, 11)

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Western pond turtle But not of the Ninja Kind

Still hidden from us

-Kathrine!

While myths, however, provide access to an animated landscape, the factor that truly differentiates them from poetry or other literatures is the fact that it is not about a landscape, or people in a landscape, but it is told from within a landscape. According to Sean Kane:

“Myths sing a map of the landscape of the hunter, but they are sung from the landscape’s point of view. The otherness of myth ensures that the impulses of the hunter are turned into the overall balance of life of the region.” (Kane, 77)

This nature-centered universe differs greatly from the human-centered

universe seen in the previous poems, such as John Updike’s “To A Box Turtle,” where turtles and the natural world were seen from a distance, as commodities, or subject to the standards of human criticism. In poems such as Updike’s, nature is looked upon as foreign, and the idea of supernatural power is nowhere to be seen, but in mythological literature “it is a good idea to assume that the story is told from the viewpoint of the supernatural.” (Kane, 79) Mythology then enables us to inquire on the subject of human-nature connectivity in a unique way, because unlike reading the works of an author attempting to make a connection, in mythology it is an assumed characteristic of the story.

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Easy turtle life. Wherever you take yourself,

Your bed comes with you.

-Alita Costa!

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Pokemon Flashback! You remind me of Squirtle,

Western Pond Turtle

-Geneva Locke!

I have heard several versions of this particular tale over the years, depending on the First Nations tribe of its origins, or the creative decisions of the storyteller. Sometimes it is a Sky Chief with a daughter, other times it is an Earth Mother alone; sometimes another animal, such as the toad, will help the turtle bring up mud from the bottom of the ocean, other times it is the turtle alone who succeeds in the task; sometimes there were other worlds before this one, and other times this land is seen as the first land that had ever come into being. But for the most part, all the versions I have heard share the same scene – one with a supernatural Creator-type being, and a selection of animals, and a tiny bit of mud that forms the great land resting upon the back of the turtle – the land that the First Nations people will call home. Although, as in most myths, the turtle is simply called “Turtle” without any specific signifier for its breed or kind, I feel that the idea of a turtle using mud to build a continent somehow brings to mind the idea of a pond turtle burying itself in the mud of the earth. Although this turtle is written as originating from the ocean, I feel that one could still apply the symbolic reference to all species of turtle, including the western pond turtle. If the earth is made of mud, and the pond turtle lives in mud, it seems no great leap to infer that all turtles, not simply the Great One supporting the earth, carry within them an inherent affinity to the Creator, as well as the ancient origins of the natural world. Interestingly, this rings remarkably true to the factual existence of the turtle, as studies have proven that the origins of turtles date back to the prehistoric era, or otherwise, the “dawn of time”. In this respect for the sacred age of the earth, one can see how the turtle represents not simply a deep connectedness with the natural world, but also a respect for what a small role the human species plays in the grand scope of things, compared to, for example, the way in which the Christian story of Creation is an allusion to God’s creation of man in Adam and Eve.

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! P%!

Black shiny eyeballs Staring at me through the glass

I feel quite guilty

-Alec McLean!

FIELD NOTE: Turtle Island

In my research regarding turtle symbolism in the Pacific Northwest, I continued seeing the name “Turtle Island” connected to references about First Nations culture any mythology. Each time I saw that name appear in print, I kept thinking to myself, “Where is this Turtle Island anyways…?” It wasn’t until I picked up a certain publication (named, fittingly, Turtle Talk), that I finally received a complete explanation. In his foreword, Kirkpatrick Sale recounts his version of the creation myth as told by the Lakota Sioux. This legend is generally similar to that of the Michigan people above, although in this particular version the Lakota Sioux do not include any “Sky Princess in distress,” and it is Turtle himself who carries the mud up to the surface. (Sale, viii). However, Sale fleshes out the ending in such a way that it provides a beautiful glimpse into the great cultural importance carried between the lines of the legend:

“Lastly, S/he reached down into the earth and began to form the soil into the shapes of men and women, red earth and white earth and black earth and yellow earth, and with one more clap of the hands, all these came alive too, each of them given speech and understanding and power. Then the Great Originator said to the people, ‘The first world I made was bad, and the creatures on it were bad, so I burned it up. The second was bad, and the creatures stupid, so I drowned it. Now I have given you a third world, and if you learn how to live upon it with reverence and harmony, living in peace with each other and with all your brothers and sisters – the two-legged and the four-legged and the many-legged, the swimmers and the fliers and the crawlers, the plants and flowers and trees – then all will be well. But if you make this world bad, and ugly, and unhappy, then I will destroy this world too. It’s up to you.’ And S/he named the land Turtle Island, for it was the turtle who provided the mud from which it was made, and S/he placed it atop the turtle so it would be forever a reminder for the people of the animal that carries its home upon its back throughout its life, and must protect and preserve its home because its home protects and preserves it.” (Sale, viii)

! P&!

I had two turtles Ebony and Ivory

Then I set them free!

-Geneva Locke!

Although its origins are firmly rooted in the ancient legend of the creation of North America, the term “Turtle Island” has since transcended its mythological origins and become a symbolic signifier for a greater sense of appreciation for the sacredness of the ground beneath our feet, both in First Nations culture as well as modern culture with a bend towards ecology and conservationism. As Sale says:

“It is a designation that defies the artificial political labels pasted on the map by legislatures entirely distrustful of geography, and tries to understand the continent more in terms of its basic realities, the natural features which truly demark and define the land. It is an idea that gives primacy, as seems right, to a remarkable testudinate order of adaptable, long-lived, and very tough land, marsh, and ocean animals, assigning them the sort of primacy that in other cultural myths is given to the large, pipedal primates who walk erect.”

In the stressing of this kind of nature-centered universe (a quality which was noticeably absent from almost all of the turtle-focused poetry I came across), the symbol of Turtle Island is also stressing “the importance of the natural world and its protection and preservation as, in its necessary and inescapable way, our home.” (Sale, ix). In other words, Turtle Island has become synonymous with “ecological consciousness.” (Sale, ix). Because of this cultural and symbolic reference, the social movement of bioregionalism has adopted the designation of Turtle Island to their cause, using the image of the turtle as the face for the environmental and conservationist causes they advocate for. As Sale explains in Turtle Talk:

“…the turtle emblem appears on the official proceedings of the North American Bioregional Congresses that have taken place every other year since 1984, it is branded on to a chip of local wood that every participant in those congresses is given to wear on a necklace, it is

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! P'!

Happy turtle friend Snapping at my ten fingers

They are not your food

-Sean Holler!

printed on tee-shirts and newsletters and banners and books; and the clearinghouse center for the movement is called the Turtle Island Office.” (Sale, ix)

Sale champions the simple image of the turtle as the ideal totem animal for such a determined grassroots organization, as it presents itself as “they symbol of the competitor in the race who is acknowledged to be slow and cumbersome and a little late off the mark, but also steady and sure and determined and persistent – and who eventually wins.” (Sale, ix). It seems fitting, then, that the animal who represents the original creation of the earth has also now won the position of representing, in a way, the destruction of the earth as well as its hopeful renewal in the hands of a few concerned citizens. Hopefully the damage sustained to Turtle Island by its unappreciative two-legged inhabitants will not be too heavy for the turtle to carry while we attempt to right our wrongs and move forward in “a belief in hopeful possibilities.” (Bingham & Love, xiv) !

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-Bob Pember!

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Shy little creature Hiding from my dark shadow

From inside your shell

-Jess Gibson!

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Small green pond turtle I can see your head, not now

You are so crafty

-Craig Pagens!

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Hanging out in ponds Among all the ducks and fish

For how much longer

-Erik Lane!

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! Y"!

Western Pond Turtle The Muse of Brilliant Haikus

High Five to You, Friend

-Dakota Cornell!

This particular myth from the Michigan people demonstrates connectivity with nature in a unique way, in that rather than using a strictly nature/animal based world as the setting of the story, the world of Turtle Gets His Shell is comprised of both human and animal figures sharing the landscape in equal status. Where such poems as Lamb’s “What Turtle Blood Tastes Like” display the human/animal relationship with a sense of vertical hierarchy, with the human placed squarely at the top, the relationship between Nanabozhoo and Turtle are shown on a horizontal plane characterized by respect of primacy afforded to the turtle.

By injuring Mishekae through an act of clumsiness and ignorance, he is doing an act of injury to the Mother Earth herself, and therefore must claim an act of retribution and repair the loss of balance in order to absolve himself of guilt. By providing Mishekae with a new shell that has so many aesthetic connections with the earth itself, such as “a round hump that resembles her hills and mountans,” Nanabozhoo is not simply referencing a version of the creation myth, but also showing an offering of respect to the natural beauty and order that exists in the landscape before him. By then suggesting that the divisions of the shell are “like the many tribes that are a part of (Mother Nature); each different and yet connected to her,” he is drawing his own direct connection to the natural world, while still offering Mishekae the sacred respect of being the creature who holds its visual representation on its very back.

By drawing attention to this sense of natural connection through this image of the turtle, the Michigan people are able to use the idea of the origins of its shell as a teaching tool to model the kind of respect and kindness that should be afforded to all species of the earth in the horizontal model of interconnectivity. The “sense of a mutual relationship advantageous to both animal and man” (Kane, 77) then becomes a part of the tribal custom and shared knowledge.!

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! Y#!

Swim, turtle. Swim fast. Get away from predators

And see tomorrow

-Kelsey Martens!

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! Y$!

Die Sumpf-schild-krö-te will nur in den See hi-nein

ist a-ber in Not

-Claudia Heckmann!

By placing the turtle in the context of holding “the mystery of the moon on the

shell of its back,” Eagle Walking Turtle is calling attention to the sacredness of the animal in its connection to the powers of Creation. In fact, the turtle is referenced in a later part of the myth as “Grandmother Earth,” (Eagle Walking Turtle, 46) as well as the force guiding the rest of the animals who are seen as the subject of the myths of the other twelve moons. This idea of sacred power is harnessed by the single turtle who serves as the subject for the thirteenth moon, thereby giving its message that much more weight within the context of the story.

This particular legend is unique in that rather than simply being a version of a common story, it is told from the personal perspective of Eagle Walking Turtle, who writes in his introduction about how he remembers his grandfather telling these stories to him when he was a boy living on the Northern Arapahoe Indian Reservation, saying:

“The following thirteen stories are among those that Grandpa told us about the love and respect our people have for our animal brothers and sisters – the four-leggeds, the ones that fly, the ones that slither in the grasses, and the ones that swim in the waters.” (Eagle Walking Turtle, 5) By acting as a subject in one of Grandpa’s stories, the turtle becomes

synonymous with the figure of a grandfather himself as well as the action of imparting the traditional knowledge and natural wisdom onto the younger generation. The child is taught to not only listen to his elders, but also to listen to the voices of the landscape. Only by letting connecting to the natural world and letting it teach him its secrets will the boy be successful in his life, just as Red Hawk was in the story. As he recounts in the way in which his Grandfather ended the story, “Grandpa said that we can learn from the turtle, who is always slow but deliberate. We, too, should be patient and should always stop to think before acting.” As long as the younger generation keeps connecting to the landscape and absorbing “the love and goodness of Grandmother Turtle, our turtle,” the world will continue to stay young. (Eagle Walking Turtle, 46) !

! Y%!

Nature made you right Alive on water and land Breathe easy, small one

-Grace Anixter!

FIELD NOTE: Place, Space, and Nativity

It has become quite clear in the analysis of these myths that even with bare linguistic description the works of First Nations and Native American cultures provide access to a much deeper level of connection than many of the previously examined poems could afford. I have spent quite some time trying to unravel the question of modernity versus nativity, and what exactly causes one culture to have such trouble drawing a deep connection to the natural world and the animals (seen here as the western pond turtle) that inhabit it while another culture easily experiences it as an inherent value of their lives. Although authors may use a number of different terminologies, there seems to be a consensus that it is a matter of place versus space. According to Lucy Lippard, “Space defines landscape, where space combined with memory defines place.” (Lippard, 9) In other words, space is merely seen while place signifies an environment that has been experienced and connected with.

In the words of Lippard, “Northern Americans (White Western Society) are inherently placeless.” (Lippard, 63) According to Freya Mathews, “Modernity is a restless condition, a condition with discontinuity with the past and dissociation from the future.” (Mathews, 11). A human born of such a disconnected modern culture, although “necessarily born in a particular place…is not of that place.” (Mathews, 60) Such a distanced view transfers the natural world from a position of being revered and respected to that of being a material resource for consumption that is “devoid of subjective interiority.” (Mathew, 60) Putting nature below human on the vertical hierarchal status system forces a barrier between “human” and “wild”, or “animal”, which prevents the making of any deep connection.

According to Mathews, “Nativist tendencies, or tendencies towards cherishing a ‘sense of place’ have been widely identified by scholars across a range of fields.” (79). Unlike the distance that characterizes modern culture, traditional native cultures are built around “a deep, pervasive, ubiquitous, all-embracing affinity with life.” (Westling, 149) Nativity “ascribes an innerness to a place as well as an outerness,” (Mathews, 49) which aids in creating the deep connection missing from modernist culture. This kind of inner/outer duality as well as the animation of the natural landscape “as a living organism and nurturing mother” (qtd. in Bryson, 16) allow for greater deeper connection and attachment to the landscape as well as the other species that exist within it.

It is only through this attachment/connection that true relationships with the

! Y&!

The Pond turtel just want into the Lake

but is in trouble

-Claudia Heckmann

smallest members of the ecosystem can thrive with the respect and reverence, such as seen in the previous myths. How do you notice a turtle if you only see the best way to paver over its home? This idea lies at the heart of the bioregionalism movement. As Marie Wilson says, “One of the avowed aims of bioregionalists is to become “native to place” as human groups once were, before the advent of industrial civilization ” (76) As bioregionalists have adopted the turtle emblem as their totem animal (see above), one could say that the turtle itself has become a symbol of the greater effort to return to placeness/nativism and the reanimation of our world. (Mathews, 72)

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We could learn from you

-Mairin Deery!

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! YP!

Silly dumb turtle, Your head small, your shell so big.

Does your flesh taste good?

-Dave Jackson!

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! YY!

House on your back, Jack? Not a bad set up you got.

How cool is that, Mack?

-Harrison Cowan!

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! YZ!

turtle's shell is like a trailer home but with more

death and much less fun

-Bob Pember!

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!

Both the Okanagan story of “How Turtle Set the Animals Free,” and the Seneca story of “Turtle’s Race with Beaver” show clear characteristics of being a part of the story foundation that resulted in the classic children’s morality tale “The Tortoise and the Hare.” In the race between Turtle and Eagle, as well as the race between Turtle and Beaver, Turtle’s constant characteristics of patience and wisdom win out against the more outwardly impressive characteristics of quick cleverness and great strength. The tale of the Tortoise and the Hare mirrors this lesson in the moral of the story, commonly told as, “slow and steady wins the race.”

As certain aspects of these myths have quite apparently been adapted for use as a children’s tale, it is not hard to see how these versions could have been written for use as teaching tools. Using such nature stories in an educational aspect not only illustrates within a culture their connection and affinity with nature, but also identifies which social arrangement and personal characteristics were seen as ideal. In both “How the Turtle Set the Animals Free,” and “Turtle’s Race with Beaver,” the animal who tries to disrupt the horizontal social structure and place himself in a position of higher status than the rest of the animals, Eagle and Beaver respectively, are punished for their sense of entitlement by public embarrassment, as well as the abdication of their title to the turtle, who represented the characteristics of wisdom and sharing from the beginning. As Turtle says in the end of “How Turtle Set the Animals Free,” “Now I am Chief. You are free. Go where you like, Animal People.

! Z[!

Lost in the grasses Trying to find a marker

To get back home

-Nick Zirk!

Anywhere!” By the end of both myths it is clear that the teaching moral is not simply

wisdom or patience, but mutual co-operation on all levels of life, which signifies a true sense of connectivity within a habitat. As Murray Bookchin says in Turtle Talk, “…nature is not harsh or brutal or anything like that. Nature is riddled with co-operation, with animals interacting with each other in mutual attempts to survive. Those animals most fit to survive are those most fit to co-operate.” (127). In the end of “Turtle’s Race with Beaver,” the act of Turtle still offering to share the pond with Beaver, even after Turtle has beaten him fairly, is a representation of the flexibility needed in order to survive peacefully with others.

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sometimes I picture inside a turtles shell is

a cozy house

-Elaine Laroche!

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! Z#!

Shut down, hibernate Let the winter pass you by

Start anew in Spring

-Alyson Holler!

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! Z$!

Turtle sits on log Head held aloft, lost in thought

pondering future

-Ewan Ross!

Like the morality myths of “How Turtle Set the Animals Free” and “Turtle’s Race with Beaver,” “Taddle Pond” is an example of how myths are effective teaching tools. By using the animal kingdom as a backdrop, negative and positive characteristics can be reflected back at the human audience in a clearer light. Like the previous myths, “Taddle Pond” uses the turtle as a symbol for knowledge and wisdom in the animal kingdom, but in this case it illustrates the negative consequences of excessive closed-mindedness, which cause a disconnect, as opposed to the sought-after deep connection with the natural world.

Similarly to the legend of “Thirteenth Moon,” the turtle-as-teacher symbolism is used in “Taddle Pond” to illustrate those characteristics that should be aspired towards in order to achieve better balance with the natural world. In this case, however, it creates an interesting contrast in that it is the younger generation teaching the older, rather than the more common pattern where knowledge is gleaned from ones elders. One could speculate that this could be an effort in behavioral modeling for the younger generation, as they may see themselves more clearly in the younger turtles in the pond as opposed to the elders.

FIELD NOTE: The Lessons of Dr. Seuss

Although I have found no proof of a direct correlation, it is interesting to note that many of the themes found in “Taddle Pond” are echoed in the modern classic Dr. Seuss tale, Yertle the Turtle. In Seuss’ tale, Yertle is the king of the pond, but he is unsatisfied with the reigning state of equality. He decides that as king, he should be higher than all else he sees. He says:

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Yertle orders his turtles to pile underneath him, building a throne so high he could see all across the land. But he remains unsatisfied, and continues ordering for more turtles, even after they complain about his tyrannical ways. He says:

! Z%!

Splash! Into the pond Careful you are not dinner

For hungry bullfrogs

-Dylan Gillespie!

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The turtles of the pond continue to be used and abused for King Yertle’s selfish narcissism. It looks like there will be no end to the cruelty, until one day, Mack, the Turtle on the bottom of the throne tower, let’s out a burp. From this small action the entire tower crumbles, and Yertle tumbles from his throne in the sky back into the mud, where he truly belongs. Seuss writes:

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In this final line of “maybe, all creatures should be,” Seuss is displaying this technique of acceptable and admirable behavior through animals. One might suppose that the turtle makes for such an effective role model in stories such as this, is because it does embody the character traits of knowledge, wisdom, temperance and ancient being – as seen in the myths above. Such character traits would be exactly the qualities that the ideal teacher would encompass as well, thereby drawing another connection between the image of the turtle and the transference of knowledge between generations.!

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!

! Z&!

If just two turtles mate right and multiply well

there'd be nine turtles

-Bob Pember!

EXPLORATION: EAT YOUR FRIENDS I can’t do it. Being a dedicated omnivore, I thought I had more of a stomach for this, but there is no way in Heaven or Earth I am cooking my turtle. I thought I was more prepared for this. Seeing as “turtle” was one of the few species on that could be consumed with relative safety, I really wanted to take the extra step for our end-of-class luncheon and see if I could prepare a real turtle soup. I perused websites with catalogues of “game recipes”, and I selected what I thought would be extra-delicious…. I got as far as the words “cubed turtle meat” before I realized that this was simply not going to happen. The Western Pond Turtle and I have gone on an epic adventure during these last twelve weeks, and after everything we have been through together – endless library visits, pet store interrogations, aquarium investigations, even international visits to the zoo – how could I throw his distant relative into a pot? In my mind’s eye, his sad little eyes were giving me a look of such reproach, such disappointment. I could almost feel him saying, “Have I taught you nothing during our time together?” The true culmination of these huge lessons hit me. This wasn’t just an animal – a creature below me to be commoditized and consumed in cubes as a hilarious delicacy. He was a part of my habitat. By looking him in the eye I gave him the recognition of a fellow species in my ecosystem, and the respect of our connection forged from the same soil. We share the same body of earth, breathe the same air, and see the same sky. In this moment I can see the turtle of the myths – the metaphysical creature, the power surreal, the underdog returning to victory as he carries the troubles of the world on his back. A little turtle never seemed so big. It shall be turtle chocolates and Painted Turtle Merlot in lieu of turtle soup. Maybe I am now a vegetarian.!

! Z'!

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Tiny litte guy Pinched between thumb and finger

Retreat for safety

-James Rendina!

! ZP!

FIELD NOTE: International Adventures to see the Western Pond Turtle December 5th, 4:15 am

I stand at the bus stop on the corner of Main Street and 28th Avenue, my McBreakfast in one hand, burned coffee in the other. As I attempt to fight off the black morning’s chill, I struggle to remember how exactly it came to be that I got up (voluntarily) long before dawn with the idea that I was going to catch a train down to Seattle to look at, of all things, a turtle. The last time I saw 4:15 am was in the context of not having gone to bed yet. I scan the desolate street, watching the digital numbers slowly drop on my estimated bus arrival time, I am quite sure that the only logical reason for my presence here is that I have gone completely and totally insane. December 5th, 11:40 am

I few hours of scrunched slumber in the train car has left me with creaking joints, but at least refreshed enough to call myself human again. I pull aside the winder drapes to reveal an unseasonably sunny day that has apparently burned off the majority of my morning’s bitterness. As I stare at the brilliant Pacific Northwest landscape rolling by the tracks, I try to piece together exactly how exactly how I the western pond turtle went from a little scrap of paper in my hand to the subject of an international railcar adventure. I think to myself that this must be what Laurie meant when he said to us, “Fall in love with your species…”

No matter how the final end of this project turns out, I feel that I have definitely achieved that goal. December 5th, 2:15 pm

Standing in the courtyard of the Woodland Park Zoo, in Seattle, Washington, United States of America.

After several phone calls to the Woodland Park Zoo, I was finally able to get in touch with the reptile curator, Mark, who was more than accommodating to my strange request to see the turtle hatchlings. He arranged for me to meet with Bill McDowell, the turtle handler and hatchling caretaker, who could show me around the entire facility.

Leather dragon skin I forget your origins

Locked in prehistoric days

-Devon Sackville!

! ZY!

Bill and I had agreed to meet at the South entrance to the park. We had previously exchanged signifying details, something to the effect of “pink hair” for me, and “green sweater” for him. I scan the pathways, and finally I see him walking towards me, carrying a slight limp with an awkward gait. He comes up to me and extends his hand with a friendly greeting. I shake his hand and begin to tell him how excited and grateful I am to get this “behind-the-scenes” turtle tour at the zoo, but he immediately interrupts me, telling me it’s a pleasure to have me visit. He leads me away from the visitor’s entrance and towards the gates labeled “Employees Only.” I can’t help but feel a little bit special as he unlocks the gate and ushers me through. We exchange some small talk as we walk up the trail in the direction of the hatchling facility, and in the course of our conversation I get the feeling that he is as equally excited to have me visit, as I am to be here. I suppose with elephants and jaguars just a few paces away, little freshwater turtles don’t seem that exciting to the average zoo visitor. But today I am not the average zoo visitor, and no tropical import could possibly lead me away from the western pond turtles. And as we near the hatchling house I begin to have some idea as to how important this visit – this face-to-face meeting with the subject of my obsessive study over the last twelve weeks’ – truly is. I feel like I have been planning this moment for so long, that now that I am here I don’t even know what to do with myself…. We come to the hatchling building – essentially an old barn-like structure hidden from the main zoo by several layers of brush – and Bill lets me in first. I am struck by the thickness in the air. The musky odors of wild animals and sawdust are almost tangible on my skin. As I look to my right I catch a glimpse of a Tupperware container filled with dead mice, and I do my best not to look horrified. I have managed to pass myself off as a serious “researcher” thus far. I don’t want to ruin it now. We pass a couple of rows of enormous bird cages which look, for the most part, empty save for a pair of brightly colored specimens in the far corner. They are working on breeding them, Bill tells me. We turn a corner and pass through an office corridor leading into a second room that appears to be filled with an assortment of plastic tubs, ranging from the size of sandwich containers to large bathtubs. We enter, and as my eyes adjust to the dim light, I realize that all of these containers are filled with TURTLE HATCHLINGS! From where I am standing they look like bath toys as they slither through the water as though on propellers. Beside me Bill is pointing out all of the details that make this “turtle factory,” as he refers to it, a successful endeavor. He shows me his meticulous hand drawn charts, tracing the measurements and weights of each individual head-

You breathe like a fish But the water still holds death

When a turtle drowns

-Suzanne Lane!

! ZZ!

start turtle. He explains their method of identification, which gets more complex and specific the older and bigger they get. He gives me another version of the “Frank and Kate” operation down in the Gorge…. But I am only half-listening. My attention keeps getting drawn to these wriggling little creatures as they scramble around their plastic sandwich bins. I recall my biological research and try to identify all of their aesthetic characteristics: olive and brown carapice, yellow plastron, grey lizard skin…. Somehow, no matter how accurate and detailed the explanation, no matter how well I know the facts, it seems somehow different when I finally see the real thing. I am trying to pay attention to Bill, but I just can’t peel my eyes off these little guys, watching them as they dive into their “hide-log” the moment my black shadow comes near. Bill pauses as he notices my distraction. “Would you like to hold one?” He says. I don’t even know what to say. I had up until this point been attempting to work up the nerve to ask him, at the same time not even sure if that was even appropriate. I was afraid I might crush him or contaminate him with my terrible “city-girl” germs. But I manage to say, “Can I…?” Bill says, “Of course!” as though I had asked borrow a pencil, not hold an incredibly endangered reptile species in my bare hands. I stand beside him nervously as he reaches his hand into the tank, trying to catch one of them between his fingers. He passes the creature to me, and I take it gingerly, somehow afraid that I might do damage even though I know how strong their shells are. He takes up barely quarter of the palm of my hand, and Bill tells me that this is one of the “bigger guys.” The moment I touch him all four legs retreat into the shell, and his neck squishes as far back as it can possibly go. His black eyes stare at me from the cavern of his two shells, perhaps assessing the danger of this new stranger. Although I know they are extremely shy by nature, I feel guilty that I have caused it to be frightened. I stare back at him; I guess hoping I can get the “I come in peace” message through to him via eye contact. We stare at each other.

There are no words, no poems, and no myths that could possibly describe the feeling of this moment. This is the true culmination of these weeks, this class…. this wonderful adventure. Forget everything else I have written. In fact, forget everything else you have read. This is true connection - the moment you can stare into the eyes of another living being with the understanding that you both share this fragile earth. It is unexplainable and intangible. It is true poetry.

The turtle breaks my gaze, and I gently put him back into his plastic bin. This is the end of our relationship, fittingly forming an end of sorts to my academic project,

Starbucks, shopping mall Barbie, Ken, video games

Turtles in between

-Ryan Aberle!

! "[[!

but at the same time there is no end at all. Although this project will be over in a matter of days, pieces of it will stay with me forever. Not simply in an unusual interest in the western pond turtle, per se (although that will be there), but also in greater understanding, appreciation, and respect for the earth that supports my footsteps each day.

Upon (regretfully) leaving the hatchlings at the zoo, Bill assures me that he will see to it that I can join the team of graduate students from the University of Oregon that assist Frank and Kate in the collection of western pond turtle hatchlings each Fall. I will be sure to keep you updated…… . !

Desperate black nails Clawing at me behind glass

Please don’t look at me

-Brenna Holler!

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*Although some of these works have not been cited directly in my paper, every single one has in some way shaped my thought process during this long journey, and lent a piece of itself into this project that entirely transcends the boundaries of a specific point of reference.

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Thank You.

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“We are anarchists; we must never forget that.

And the proof of anarchism is self-government. Without hierarchy.”

-Gary Snyder

Produced from the blood, sweat, and tears of Erin Jane Samuda

Fall, 2009