Turtle Sniper

As the weather warms in Bristow, the highways have become littered with adventurous turtles, braving the warm asphalt in the hopes of exploring what can only be the surreal just on the other side. It is almost like an obstacle course, weaving through the turtles and inwardly rooting for the awkward animals to survive without being squished by some 18-wheeler. I am, however, not so romantic about the snapping turtles living in the pond, eating our catfish and literally peaking above the surface of the water to locate our bobber so they can grab onto our hooks. Removing the turtle from the hook is just the cherry on top after you discover that it was not a large-mouth bass you ensnared, but rather, an obnoxious turtle. I remember once my cousin, Travis, covertly left his baited pole in the water at the catfish pond, and we returned to find a turtle on the line the next morning. Grandad was little upset, but I remember all of the cousins watching in sick fascination as he immediately beheaded the turtle with his pocket knife.

After our fishing trip, Joshua conducted a little campaign of turtle and snake population control with his 30-30. I was officially the spotter, and part of me felt a little compelled to yell “Pull!” every time I spotted a little head peak above the surface (undoubtedly looking for an orange bobber). Here is the death toll:

Turtles Sniped: 6

Turtles Escaped (Possibly injured): 1

Cottonmouths Obliterated: 1

This is not an actual shot of the Cottonmouth he killed although it is very similar. I mainly just posted this to creep Joshua out.

He seems a little exasperated that I am taking his picture for his blog before his big hunt. Obviously, I am unnecessarily delaying the inevitable onslaught for such womanly pursuits as picture-taking and blog-writing. The previous picture is penance for picture-taking grumpiness.