124 IN SPRING. 



a few yards only, when they reached little pools 

 that met all their needs. 



About what time the summer birds have ar- 

 rived, and golden-club blooms in the tide-water 

 creeks, gilding the mud-flats that have so long 

 been bare, the turtles, or three at least of our 

 eight aquatic species, begin "sunning" them- 

 selves, as it is usually said, but they continue the 

 practice through rainy and cloudy days. Every 

 projecting stump, stranded fence-rail or bit of 

 lumber capable of bearing any weight is sure to 

 be the resting-place of one, and if there is room, 

 of a dozen turtles. I once counted seventeen on 

 a fence-rail, and thirty-nine on a raft-log that the 

 freshets had stranded on the meadows. Why, at 

 such a time, should these creatures be so timid ? 

 They certainly have no enemies about here, and 

 their horny shields would effectually protect them 

 if fishing mammals like the mink and otter should 

 acquire aldermanic tastes ; and yet, so far as I can 

 determine by experimentation, there is scarcely 

 an animal more timid than the painted or spotted 

 water-turtle. Fear, with nothing to be afraid of, 

 is a contradiction, and I am led to suggest that 

 the timidity is hereditary. Something over two 

 centuries ago the Delaware Indians hunted and 

 fished these meadows without ceasing ; and there 

 can still be gathered the bones of such animals as 

 they ate from the ashes of their camp-fires. Tur- 



