A Dinosaur in the Garden

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My wife came running into the house all freaked out this morning. As she was working in her garden she almost stepped on him. :D

This isn't he first one we have found in the yard, but he is the first to penetrate the garden perimeter wire ;). They live in a creek about 30 yards off our property.

Anyway I opened up a piece of the wire and with the occasional poke of a scoop shovel he was back on way home.

The original fencing was mainly for rabbits but I may need to upgrade to stop small armored critters.
 

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I think the poorest we ever were was back in '56, we was so poor all I got for Christmas was fresh library books. We ate meat once a week, Dad would bring home a pound of hamburger. Mom would cut up an onion, toss in the burger and a big ole can of pork an beans, she called it "slum gulligan". The shack we lived in was built onto the existing roof of a large tenement building, the floor was so sloped all my toy horse and cowboys had to be going uphill or downhill or they fell over. I would roll a marble up the floor and shoot it on the way down, like Sundance when I started school I couldn't let a marble quit rolling or I couldn't hit it.
The reason I started this stuff was that snapper, the owner of the tenement had a ole coon hound named Comanche, he had been a hell of a hunter in his day but for now was relegated to the back yard of the man's property to ward off rats that swam the big river at the back of the property, turtles and such. The man had killed a huge snapper and left his shell out to dry for some reason or the other. Ole Comanche and me were best of friends, I was just small enough at five to barely fit inside that big ole shell. I got to thinking that if Comanche wouldn't mind I could tie a rope onto his collar and sit inside this shell so he could then haul me around. I had me a hell of a good time with that ole dog and the shell, he was more than just obliging and would really get up and go with me a flying along behind, it was great fun...when your a kid you really don't know your poor, in a way its like being stupid.
 
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They are cool critters. I like seeing 3-4 of them sunning on a log. Like the steam room for us.
 
Turtles are a lot of things but cool never crossed my mind. Common snappers like that one are mean as they come. Most those log sitters are red eared sliders.
 
We used to have wild strawberries in the back yard. At least that's what they looked like. The turtles loved them. We always had two or three hanging around.
 
My dad was a supervisor in a large manufacturing weld/fabricating shop. He had one guy that had been there forever and lived local to us. The old guy would run lines in local ponds hooked to empty milk jugs and catch turtles. Usually a couple times a year he would bring my dad a couple pounds of cleaned turtle meat. Mom would cut it up into smaller chunks and then pressure cook the meat. Then the meat would be dredged in seasoned flour and fried until just lightly brown. Then water added to the skillet and covered for a couple minutes to steam the meat. When mom was done the meat was, tender as could be.
 
Turtle meat is delicious...and legal during lent.

They fight you hard while you are cleaning them, long after the head is removed. Andrew Zimmern on Bizarre Foods showed how to separate the skin from the meat using an air-compressor, but I've never done it that way.
 
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Have never eaten fresh water turtles. In the 1950's my Father and Uncles would catch sea turtles. Never made soup out of them. They were deep fried and yes, tasted like chicken. Illegal as heck now to even touch one.
 
I think the poorest we ever were was back in '56, we was so poor all I got for Christmas was fresh library books. We ate meat once a week, Dad would bring home a pound of hamburger. Mom would cut up an onion, toss in the burger and a big ole can of pork an beans, she called it "slum gulligan". The shack we lived in was built onto the existing roof of a large tenement building, the floor was so sloped all my toy horse and cowboys had to be going uphill or downhill or they fell over. I would roll a marble up the floor and shoot it on the way down, like Sundance when I started school I couldn't let a marble quit rolling or I couldn't hit it.
The reason I started this stuff was that snapper, the owner of the tenement had a ole coon hound named Comanche, he had been a hell of a hunter in his day but for now was relegated to the back yard of the man's property to ward off rats that swam the big river at the back of the property, turtles and such. The man had killed a huge snapper and left his shell out to dry for some reason or the other. Ole Comanche and me were best of friends, I was just small enough at five to barely fit inside that big ole shell. I got to thinking that if Comanche wouldn't mind I could tie a rope onto his collar and sit inside this shell so he could then haul me around. I had me a hell of a good time with that ole dog and the shell, he was more than just obliging and would really get up and go with me a flying along behind, it was great fun...when your a kid you really don't know your poor, in a way its like being stupid.

Love the story!
Larry
 
Just saw two smalls ones preparing to lay some eggs along the railroad tracks yesterday. Wife is pretty proud of this pic of a snapper swimming.

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