Turtle Wife's Blog

A selection of photos from yesterday's 2011 NYTTS Turtle Show

2011-06-05T21:17:00.000-04:00

LI Turtle Rescue Party

2010-07-25T10:31:00.008-04:00

Turtle Rescue of LI held its annual summer BBQ yesterday. Always a fun time and an opportunity to talk “turtle” to our heart’s content.

Conversations participated in or overheard:

“I pick up the worms [that I feed to the turtles] with my hands.”

“Oh, I’d never do that; too gross. I always use tongs.”

“Ohh, Russian tortoises. They’re my favorites.”

“That sulcata tortoise over there…? He figured out how to climb out of the enclosure. We fixed it so he couldn’t, but he keeps on trying. Once they get an idea in their heads…”

“I’m trying to convince my friends that eight turtles is not a lot, but they just don’t believe me.”

2010-06-20T21:33:00.004-04:00

NY Turtle & Tortoise Society Show, June 10, 2010

As always the Turtle Show was great fun. Allen and I took lots of photos of turtles -- and turtle people

See more photos here.

Turtles Are My Bag

2010-03-15T21:39:00.021-04:00

Same bag, another view:

Green turtle shoulder bag -- 9 1/2" tall x 6"wide
50"-long adjustable strap
$35 plus 7.95 S&H.

To order contact asalzberg@herpdigest.org

Turtle handbag -- 15" long x 7" high x 5" wide
$89.95 + $14.95 S&H -- Green or Brown

To order: contact asalzberg@herpdigest.org

Double turtle backpack. Head to tail 19" x 11 1/2"
Zippered strap can be worn zipped up -- over one shoulder
Or, unzip the strap and wear it as a backpack.
Store stuff in both the large and small turtle.
Green only. $89.95 + $14.95 S&H

To order: contact asalzberg@herpdigest.org

Please allow at least two weeks for delivery.

Timber Rattler but No Turtles

2009-08-09T19:50:00.013-04:00

The only turtles we saw on our mini-vacation this weekend (aside from a sick turtle we brought with us so we could treat him every day) were at the Minnewaska Wildlife Center as we hiked around the lake. And here they are:

But the real excitement occurred after we'd take about ten steps out of the parking lot. Allen's cousin had just finished saying, "You know, every time I visit this park I see a snake," when we saw a juvenile timber rattler crossing the path. And here he is:

Some park goers wanted to take photos of the snake. Others were scared. I stopped told a man and a woman on bicycles to stop. I didn't want them running over the snake. From the look on the woman's face, she didn't want the snake running over her. But all it wanted to do was get to the other side of the road.

Taking Bob the Turtle on a Trip

2009-08-09T19:31:00.013-04:00

It finally happened. We had to take a sick turtle on vacation (well, along with us for a weekend away) so that Allen could make sure the turtle got his ointment and antibiotics.

Here's Allen, ministering to Bob in our motel. (The fact that Allen's wearing a Red Cross t-shirt as he applies ointment to Bob's paw is purely coincidental).

We kept the Do Not Disturb sign on the door so that Housekeeping wouldn't find Bob (in his plastic tub with lid) and freak out. We also weren't anxious to be thrown out of a "no pets allowed" motel.

What we do for turtles!

At the Turtle Show 2009

2009-06-21T15:01:00.033-04:00

The annual New York Turtle & Tortoise Show was held earlier
this month, as always, at the Village Community School in
Greenwich Village. And as always, a great time was had by all,
including the turtles.

Turtles on Vacation--Arizona

2009-05-03T14:53:00.013-04:00

Western Box turtle

Although we saw only one turtle on our recent trip to Sedona, the Western box pictured above at an indoor pet, we did manage to meet a turtle lover on our trip--from Switzerland. Allen and I took a jeep tour (a back country "wildlife safari") to see elk, deer, coyote, hawks.

There was only one other traveler on the trip. He introduced himself (call him “P”), told us he was from Switzerland and had just come from NYC. Hey, we're from NYC we said.

Have you heard of the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge out by Kennedy Airport? P. asked. Sure, we go there all the time. P. told us he thought Jamaica Bay was a wonderful birding spot—even better than those in Europe.

We realized that we take Jamaica Bay for granted. It’s four miles from our apartment. We go there a few times a year—just to walk around smell the salt air (the refuge is close to the Atlantic) and to be outside. One or twice, years ago, we helped out on Dr. Russell Burke’s terrapin nesting research project. But we’re not birders, and we are unlikely to see terrapins unless we’re involved in the research project, so we’ve begun to take the place for granted. You never know what’s in your own backyard that you’re overlooking.

Then, when P learned we’re turtle lovers, he told us that not only does he have Greek tortoises, he just hatched a number of babies. Plus, he said he knows a turtle person in Europe who has a house for his family and a second house for his turtles. It really is a small world.

On the tour we saw a rattlesnake and elk (above).

Cats and Turtles Get Along Fine at Our House

2009-03-29T22:06:00.006-04:00

Turtle Carapaces

2009-02-23T18:31:00.010-05:00

Turtle carapaces are varied and beautiful. And they're wonderful camouflage.

Turtle Plastrons

2009-01-18T20:35:00.018-05:00

Turtle plastrons–or turtles’ bottom shells--can be pretty amazing,
as you can see from these beautiful patterns and colors.

Husband, Cat , Turtle

2008-10-26T17:03:00.004-04:00

A typical Sunday morning at our house, years ago, when we had our leopard tortoise.

At the Reptile Expo

2008-09-07T21:10:00.002-04:00

: Reptile Expo Floor

Before leaving work on Friday, I mentioned to my boss that Allen and I were going to be selling herp chotchkas at a reptile expo on Sunday.

My boss, a non-herper, looked bemused. What is a reptile expo? she said.

To answer the question:

It’s a convention hall (in this instance the White Plains County Center) where aisle upon aisle of snakes, lizards, frogs and turtles (as well as spiders, hissing cockroaches, and miscellaneous other animals) are sold for sums ranging from $10 to $10,000.

Most of said animals are displayed in plastic takeout containers or cages, like these snakes.

: snakes under glass

Iguanas are kept in wire mesh cages.

: Iguana up for adoption

Chameleons are also usually displayed in cages. But sometimes, they're allowed to hang out on a tree branch.

: Just hanging around

Bearded dragons, that neither slither nor leap, are shown off for sale in oversized Tupperware tubs and fish tanks.

: Juvenile bearded dragons basking

Large beardies happily ride around on an arm, shoulder or other part of the anatomy -- before and after purchase.

: John from the Long Island Herp Society

: Unconventional traveller

Geckos come in takeout containers.

: Not our natural habitat

You'll find frogs in fish tanks.

: Dart frogs

Turtles in tanks and tubs.

: Red eared sliders

Then there's all the paraphernalia necessary to feed -

: Snake food

: Packaged food

House -

: Critter cages

And maintain your herp collection:

Mostly, I just enjoy looking at the people and the herps.

Chapter 1 of Confessions of a Turtle Wife

2008-08-28T20:31:00.011-04:00

GETTING UNDER THE SHELL

© Anita Salzberg

On our first date, my husband, Allen, mentioned in passing that at the age of twelve, he’d kept thirty pet turtles. “Turtles are wonderful animals,” he said. “They’re really underrated.”

My first mistake was thinking that this interest was cute.

My second mistake was thinking that it was ancient history.

Today, eleven turtles populate a three-foot-wide by nine-foot-long habitat that occupies one wall of the kitchen in our Queens, New York, apartment. Two more turtles occupy a 40-gallon fish tank in our dining room. A five-inch-long box turtle has the run of the house. And our bathtub functions as a motel for anywhere from one to fifty itinerant turtles. (Not to worry. We have two bathrooms.) There’s even the occasional dead turtle in our refrigerator, wrapped in aluminum foil, waiting to be taken to the vet for an autopsy to determine the cause of death. The day I found poor Sam I thought he was a leftover tuna fish sandwich.

Why do I put up with Allen’s turtle obsession? Because it’s his greatest passion . . . after me.

In the months following our first get-together, in the fall of 1985, dating segued into romance. Allen was a warm, intelligent man who made me laugh. We had a lot in common. We were both in marketing. I worked at an ad agency as a direct response copywriter (in other words, I wrote “junk mail”); Allen was as a freelance public relations consultant. We shared an addiction to books and a love of movies, museums, and plays. We’d both been raised in New York City (me in Brooklyn, Allen in the Bronx), and both now lived in Manhattan.

I was impressed by Allen’s decency: the time I tossed a bag of trash onto a heap of garbage bags in my building’s incinerator room, Allen insisted I put the bag down the chute. It was unfair to my neighbors, he said, to add to the mess. He himself was touched, he told me, when, during our second date (a cold winter night), I’d insisted that we warm up over a subway grate while waiting for a bus. Through such small gestures our love grew.

Turtles reappeared in Allen’s life-and entered mine-one weekend in April, when, eager to get out of Manhattan for an afternoon, I suggested we visit the Bronx Zoo. Visiting the zoo was fine with Allen, provided we stop at the Reptile House to see the turtles.

We arrived at the zoo on a balmy afternoon, and paused to admire the peacocks, giraffes, and lions. But after two minutes, Allen grabbed my hand and began leading me away from the African Veldt. “Hey wait, I want to watch the lions,” I said.

“No problem. We’ll come back after we’ve seen the turtles.”

My desire to see the big cats evaporated. We could see them later, or another day. I was in love and amenable to Allen’s suggestions. Five months had zoomed by; we were planning to move in together.

“Okay. Turtles it is.”

At the Reptile House, we stopped just inside the entrance to scrutinize a display of newly-hatched snakes and caimans. That’s when Allen spied a flyer for The New York Turtle and Tortoise Society (NYTTS for short) on a bulletin board next to the display. “This is wonderful,” he said. “First I fall in love with you, and now I find people who love turtles.” Allen joined the Turtle Society the next day.

Apparently, lots of people loved turtles. At the time there were more than 500 Turtle Society members in the New York City area alone. The Society held monthly meetings at the American Museum of Natural History, in a room right next to the Hall of Reptiles.

Within weeks of joining the Turtle Society, Allen confessed that my love and support had given him new impetus to return to his first love: turtles. He assured me that he’d acquire, oh, maybe two turtles, and that when he moved in with me in late fall we could find room in the apartment for say, one twenty-gallon fish tank.

Of course I agreed . . . how could I deny the love of my life two turtles?

Allen hadn’t seen turtles in pet stores in many years. That’s because, during the 1970s, a near-epidemic (hundreds of thousands of cases across the country) of turtle-related salmonella poisoning among young children had prompted laws banning turtle sales by local pet stores. Jim Van Abbema, a new Turtle Society acquaintance, suggested that Allen would find turtles in Chinatown, where they were sold for food. “But be prepared for a shock,” Jim warned. “They’re kept under terrible conditions.”

Allen was on his way to Mott Street minutes after hanging up the phone. I stayed behind at his place. When he returned a couple of hours later, he gingerly pulled two thrashing, six-inch-long turtles out of a paper bag and held them up for me to examine. “These are diamondback terrapins,” he said. “They’re saltwater marsh turtles native to the east coast.”

The struggling terrapins had jet-black eyes, gray shells, gray skin with black speckles, and wide webbed feet with long, spiked claws. Their broad, ivory-colored jaws made them appear to be wearing permanent smiles. I could see why Allen liked them; they were pretty.

Watching them, Allen’s expression turned grim. “It was awful,” he said. “The fish market where I found them had dozens of water turtles crawling around a big, filthy tank with no water. When I showed the shopkeeper the ones I wanted, he said, ’I prepare for you? Chop head?’ I almost grabbed the cleaver out of his hand. ‘No, no,’ I said. ‘Keep fresh!’”

I was both amused and appalled at Allen’s description. “That’s terrible.” I smothered a giggle. Yet I was proud that Allen had saved two beautiful creatures from being turned into a meal.

Allen named the larger terrapin Soup. “After all,” he said, “that’s what I saved her from becoming. What should we call the other one?”

I knew what we should call her. We’d recently seen Lily Tomlin’s one-woman Broadway show, The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe. During one sketch, Tomlin held in one hand a reproduction of an Andy Warhol painting of a Campbell’s Soup can. In the other hand, she held a real Campbell’s Soup can. “This is soup,” she said, indicating the painting, “and this is Art,” she concluded, indicating the can. Then, she reversed herself: “Art,” she said, raising the canvas. “Soup,” she declared, holding up the can.

“We should call the turtle ‘Art,’” I said.

Allen installed the terrapins in a twenty-gallon fish tank at his apartment. To his dismay, and my surprise, Soup died while we were on vacation. So, Allen made a repeat trip to Chinatown where he acquired another diamondback terrapin and two softshell turtles.

The softshells were unlike any turtles I’d ever seen. Their pancake-shaped bodies looked like olive-colored Frisbees with long limbs and necks, webbed claws, narrow heads, and tiny elongated snouts.

Allen told me that their aerodynamic shape allowed these river turtles to outswim some species of fish. He set them up in a second fish tank, and they shuffled themselves under the layer of pebbles that lined the bottom of the tank. Allen named them Nessie and Houdini after their long necks and their fondness for hiding out under the pebbles. He called the new terrapin Sid Vicious, because, even though it was a female, it had a savage bite.

Allen now had four turtles and two twenty-gallon tanks at his place. I felt the situation was under control. These new creatures were pleasant to watch as they swam and basked. More importantly, I didn’t take care of them. My complacence was short-lived.

That October, a month before we moved in together, Allen insisted we visit New Jersey’s aptly named Turtle Back Zoo. We were there for a private tour of the zoo’s extensive turtle collection, available only to Turtle Society members.

Two other members, Ray and Monica, had arrived ahead of us, also for the tour. For an hour, I listened to Allen and his new friends ooh and aah over hundreds of turtles not on view to the public. Then, I was ready to move on. The temperature in the room housing the turtles was over 80 degrees. I was hot, out of sorts, and overwhelmed by the sight of so many unfamiliar animals. Before that afternoon, I’d believed there to be between six and twelve types of turtles in the world. Allen now set me straight: there were over 250 species.

Then the zoo’s turtle keeper, Allen Foust, led us into the education building to discuss something called a “turtle adoption committee.” I turned to my Allen, perplexed. “Turtle adoption committee? Does he want you to take in more turtles?” I put a hand on one hip and looked at him accusingly. “You knew all about this, didn’t you?”

“I swear, I didn’t know a thing,” he said. He grinned. “But it sounds intriguing.”

Allen may have been telling the truth about being in the dark about the committee, but Ray and Monica were evidently charter members. They handed out photocopied sheets headed “Turtle Adoption Application.”

“Here’s what I think we should ask people who call the Turtle Society to adopt a turtle,” Ray said. “We should only give turtles to responsible people.”

The form listed such questions as, “Why do you want a turtle?” “Where will your new turtle live?” And, “If you’ve ever owned a turtle before, is it still alive?”

After reading the form, I still didn’t understand how all this concerned us.

“So,” said Ray, “is there anything else we should ask?”

Allen decided not to reveal to the others that he hadn’t known about the committee beforehand. “No, there isn’t,” he said. “These are great questions.”

“Good,” said Allen Foust. “Take some forms and make copies. Everyone who wants to adopt a turtle should fill one out. Based on their answers, you’ll decide whether or not they’ll make good owners. Ray and Monica, you’ll handle New Jersey adoptions. Allen, you’ll take New York. We’ll run your phone numbers in the next Turtle Society newsletter.” Foust settled back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “There are thousands of turtle owners in New York and New Jersey, and they all call me to take turtles when they decide to get rid of them,” he said. “Now, they can call you.”

“You mean people are going to drop turtles off at my place?” asked Allen, delighted at this splendid turn of events. I had a sudden, all-too-prophetic vision of running a year-round resort for homeless turtles.

“Did he say thousands of turtle owners?” I asked. Allen was about to move in with me. Turtles, I liked . . . well enough. The idea of being inundated with turtles . . . gave me pause. Would hordes of people want to give Allen turtles? Where in my one-bedroom apartment would we find room for them? How would my two cats take to them? The cats had readily accepted Allen, and he them. Still, would the cats tolerate turtles?

“Don’t worry,” Allen said. “Thousands of turtles owners won’t be calling. Besides, I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

You may reprint all or part of this excerpt on your Website or in your newsletter, provided you include the following citation:

Turtles on Vacation

2008-08-23T17:25:00.013-04:00

Over many years of being married to a turtle lover – my husband Allen – I’ve learned that there are, strictly speaking, only two types of vacations:

Those undertaken for the express purpose of seeing turtles
Those undertaken for simple rest and relaxation – along with the hope that one will see some turtles along the way.

Last week, we vacationed in Connecticut and Rhode Island – a rest and relaxation vacation. Nevertheless, there were turtle sightings, to wit:

We spied Eastern painted turtles at Mystic Aquarium’s wetlands pond.

At Marble House (below), a Gilded Age mansion in Newport, RI (now a museum), we took a self-guided tour. When we arrived in the kitchen, the narrator on the tape mimicked the sound of chopping off a terrapin head in preparation for cooking. (I guess this was a turtle “sounding” rather than a “sighting.”) Across the room, in a glass-fronted cabinet, was a turtle mold, made of what looked like pewter. Not sure what might have been cooked in the mold. Wasn't allowed to take photos in the house, so no picture of said mold.

And in Connecticut, at a Feast of Green Corn, known as Schemitzun, presented by the Mashantucket Pequot Tribal Nation, we saw rattles, medicine pouches and dream catchers made by tribal artisans from turtle shells and other materials.

Turtle Pond Envy

2008-08-03T19:37:00.000-04:00

I have a bad case of turtle pond envy.

Each time Allen and I visit friends who have a) a backyard, and b) a backyard turtle pond, we find ourselves, apartment dwellers that we are, wishing for a little bit more real estate for our turtles.

This weekend, we visited turtle friends who are blessed with both a backyard and a turtle pond/s.

Who wouldn't be envious?

Last year, we visited other turtle friends with a similarly
resplendent outdoor people-and-turtle set up.

Sigh!

Can Turtles and Iguanas Be Friends?

2008-08-03T19:33:00.001-04:00

This was a question I'd never thought to ask - until yesterday, when Allen and I visited our friend AJ, an iguana rehabber. We see AJ at every reptile show at the Westchester County Center in White Plains, NY.

She's usually there with one or more iguanas who need homes, along with Merlin, an iguana who has the run of her Connecticut home, which she shares with her husband, two sons and approximately 35 other iguanas. (I didn't get an exact read on the lizard population -- the number may be higher, though I doubt lower.)

Just as many turtle lovers start out with one turtle, AJ started with one iguana, a birthday present from her family 12 years ago. Then, a friend wrote a story for a local publication about her iguana, and included AJ's phone number. "The phone hasn't stopped ringing since," says AJ.

I knew that we'd be seeing a large number of lizards; I just didn't realize that AJ also keeps turtles, tortoises (and frogs). Or, that her tortoises coexist quite nicely with her iguanas, as you can see, above and below.

The iguanas also coexist (for the most part -- gotta separate the dominant males) very well with each other. And many enjoy a swank picture window habitat.

The turtles in our house should have it so good!

]

More Turtle Show Photos

2008-08-03T18:06:00.001-04:00

One of the most exciting part of the Turtle Show is taking photos of people and turtles. In fact, it might just be the very best part. And this blog, well, it's a great forum to show off lots of those photos.

Above, our turtle judge.

Next, some of the turtles he judged.

Above, a red foot tortoise.

Above, a red-eared slider.

Star and Leopard tortoises.

A Mata Mata, or a South American leaf headed turtle. Yes, this really is a turtle!

Above, a juvenile Eastern Box turtle

An adult Chinese box turtle

A common snapping turtle (and "floating" friend). Yes, this was photo manipulated.

And the only pair of turtle flip-flops I've ever seen!

Bet you didn't know there were this many kinds of turtles in the world!

The Annual NY Turtle & Tortoise Society Show

2008-08-03T17:50:00.001-04:00

One thing never ceases to amaze me about the annual New York Turtle & Tortoise Society (NYTTS) turtle show – how fast the time goes. Allen and I drive into Manhattan, arrive at the Village Community School at 11 am, and spend the next hour setting up (we don’t bring turtles; we bring turtle chotchkes to sell) in the school yard.

At noon, the “doors” open to people and turtles. What feels like mere minutes later, it’s 5pm – the white, red and blue ribbons are being announced, and the trophy for best turtle is given for health, longevity and breeding success.

And then it’s 6—time to pack up and go home.

How does the day go by so fast?

Many things remain the same from year to year: turtles bask in tanks and tubs and kiddie pools. Umbrellas provide shade for some; pottery shards, newspaper, and plastic tubs shelter others from the heat of the day.

Sulcatas, red foots, yellow foots and leopard tortoises mosey around the school yard, getting under people’s feet, eliciting oohs and ahhs and attracting everyone with a digital camera (including me, of course).

Dr. Roger Wood of the Wetlands Institute in Stone Harbor, New Jersey is on hand with educational displays, adult and hatchling diamondback terrapins, students from Stockton State College and international interns learning about turtle conservation.

A veterinarian, most often Dr. Bill McCord, goes from turtle to turtle, carefully judging each turtle and giving each owner care advice. (How old is your box turtle and what are you feeding it? It’s two years old and you’re giving it fruits and vegetables? Try to give it worms once a week, or a pinky. It needs more protein at this stage of life.)

Dozens of turtle species are exhibited: red-eared sliders, snappers, spotted turtles, eastern box turtles, Chinese box turtles, Greek tortoises, cooters, mata matas, hingback tortoises, Horsefelds tortoises – even some Japanese pond turtles, which won this year’s grand prize.

One thing is plain: people love their turtles!

When I can get away from our sale table, I walk around, take photos, talk to old friends, and do my own ohhing and ahhing over the turtles.

The day is rarely long enough!