Inspired by naturalist, wetlands biologist and artist David Carroll, I went for a walk this evening in the woody bog behind my house.

Carroll lives in Warner, and he spoke Saturday evening at an Appalachian Mountain Club meeting in Canterbury.
Carroll studies, writes about, photographs and makes wonderful paintings of turtles. Salamanders, too, but mostly turtles, especially Spotted, Blandings and Wood turtles. I'd heard him on the radio some weeks ago, and mentioned to Margo that his books sounded interesting, and right down her alley. She already had Saturday's soire on her calendar, so a date it was!
Carroll gave a short talk and slide show, echoing themes from his book (I'm in the midst of Swampwalker's Journal; he's written others, too but I can only speak of the one. It's beautiful.) He starts tramping out to visit his turtle friends early, while the snow still lies deep. Amazingly, they are out and about even then, if you know where to look. Knowing where and how to look is important; turtles are apparently quite adept at disguise, and what he called "cryptic basking," hiding in plain sight to safely soak up the sun.
It also takes patience; Carroll recounted how he tracked a wood turtle hatchling for the first two hour journey of its life, until it hunkered down under a log. It stayed put there for 12 days before moving on! Apparently, turtles really do take life slowly, and why not? I was impressed to learn the life span of a sucessful turtle. Most species don't reach breeding age until around 20 years, and they can live to be 100, if they don't get run over while crossing a road.
Loss of habitat is another of Carroll's major themes. Turtles depend not just on the wetlands where they breed, but wide areas around them. Beyond just preserving wetlands and vernal pools, Carroll advocates leaving some land undisturbed by humans. Even trails and footbridges encroach on habitat, he says.
Carroll also mentioned that he sometimes roams for days, even weeks, without spotting a turtle, so I had slim hopes as I set out down the trails into the swamp. Still, the habitat I'd seen in his slides looked familiar to me… I know there must surely be turtles in and around Salmon Brook. There are deer, ducks, heron and fox, so I assume the area supports at least a few turtles. I followed a trail out to a pennisula of dry land, then began making my way through the bog toward the stream. It was slow going. I'd worn some old sneakers, but I was concerned for my running jacket, which kept snagging on thorny branches. I followed paths where I could, and pushed grasses and reeds aside where I couldn't. I rarely saw terra, never mind terra firma. I may well have stepped on a turtle, for all I know. I did try to stop often, peer around, look low and listen. The wetlands got wetter, and less land like, as I approached the stream. At times I was obliged to crawl over thick grass, as I sank too deeply on my feet. I tried wading in the brook, too, but the light was getting too low to see the bottom well. Heading back to firm ground by the most direct route I could find, I passed a clear area of lower grass and other vegetation, where a little trickle of water oozed toward the bog.
There I saw a frog.
I stopped and looked, bending down with a hand on my knee. The frog looked back. Eventually I took a step forward, and the frog took a hop, into a soggy spot shielded by the roots of some sort of shrub.
That was the extent of my amphibian sightings. It was worth the walk, but I don't think I'll make a habit of marsh mucking. It's fun, but I couldn't help but worry, while thrashing around out there, that I might be making life all that much harder for creatures that I couldn't see.