I grew up in the Comox Valley and spent my whole life here. When I was younger, I never thought it would be so hard to find a partner. But after 34 years, Maple Lake is starting to feel like a very small pond indeed. The chances of the perfect (or even half-decent) mate trundling my way feel slimmer than a heron eating nothing but stickleback.
Life as a Western Painted Turtle
I was seeing someone for a while and thought things were getting pretty serious. On days when the weather was perfect, we’d bask in the sun by the lake, mostly in comfortable silence, slipping in and out of the water until our temperatures were just right—neither too hot nor too cold.
Sometimes he’d lean over and gently stroke my cheek while I gazed into his dark eyes. He looked handsome in green and red and was irresistible in a striped turtleneck. I always felt he had a lot going on under his tough exterior; there sure was a lot going on under mine.
I’ve realized the trouble with comfortable silence is that I never really knew what he was thinking. I can say that with certainty, because in the end I never got to see beneath his shell. There was no breakup; one day, he was just gone, and I’ve been alone ever since.
Changes Around Maple Lake
Part of me wonders if maybe something awful happened to him. I remember thinking the world would end when the Island Highway came through. The roads around Maple Lake seem busier every year, the gravel pit gets a little larger, and the big cats and skinny bears in the narrow strip of forest seem hungrier, with fewer places to go. But maybe that’s just me being paranoid?
Maybe he found it hard to survive the winters around here. I pretty much sleep through winter, and I figured he would, too, but maybe he just slipped silently away to some distant, sunnier shore while I slept. It’s fine, really. Males, in my experience, are mostly disappointing. I find the whole territoriality thing a bit much. If I had to choose, I’d say I prefer hanging out with females.
And apparently there are going to be more and more of us, since climate change is warming our eggs. That sounds like some sort of conspiracy theory but is 100 per cent true*. Maybe not the best thing for the “future of the species,” but this single female is trying really hard not to let climate anxiety get to me. I’ve been accused of being cold-blooded—so maybe I could use some extra heat?
In my darker moments, I think maybe the problem was the way I look. Maybe there are more attractive females out there? My skin is kind of scaly, but I spend all my time outdoors! Sometimes I hate being curvy, but I’m not out of shape! I’m a bit of a foodie and will devour pretty much anything edible that fits in my mouth. And yeah…. it would be a stretch to call me athletic. I’m the slowest possible runner, and I’m in the shrinking Cumberland demographic that doesn’t own a bike.
But I can hold my breath for a really long time, and I’m the best swimmer I know. Like, so good I gave myself the nickname “Salmonella” (Get it?? I’m as fast as a salmon? But I usually just go by Sam).
I’ve tried meditating recently, and I think it’s going well. At least, I feel pretty calm most days. I can float with my head and my ears just below the surface, so the harsh noises and wild thoughts become gentle and still. I enjoy the light on the water, the breeze in the trees, the ripples on the surface, the quiet of the depths, and the lazy drone of the bees on the buckbeans.
Sometimes I get a little lonely. I’ve been known to talk to my cat, probably a little more than is healthy. And, okay, he isn’t even really my cat. He just kind of adopted me, and who was I to resist? Or I assume he adopted me, because he sits in the sun on the shore of Maple Lake and squints his eyes and purrs at me.
I think we have a special bond, because he hides whenever anyone else is around. Which is probably for the best, because he’s huge and could eat them alive if he wanted. I love him, but he terrifies me. And we all know how it ends once a conservation officer has to get involved.
Anyway, you probably don’t want to hear about my cat.
I’m sorry, I feel like I talked your ear off. But you said you were curious about life as a western painted turtle in the Comox Valley, so … those are my ramblings.
*Eggs of painted turtles that develop at warmer temperatures are more likely to become female, causing a shift to higher proportions of females, which will likely have negative impacts on turtle populations. (Learn more about western painted turtle conservation efforts.)
