Speaking of Wildlife —by Jamie Proctor

Introducing painted turtles
Michelangelo and Van Gogh

Welcome to the twenty-ninth column introducing the residents of Speaking of Wildlife: Ontario animals that can’t be released back into the wilderness due to permanent injuries or over-habituation to humans. Today we’ll be looking at two distinct forms of mobile pond rocks: Michelangelo and Van Gogh, our painted turtles.

Painted turtles are among the Speaking of Wildlife residents you’re more likely to have seen (and identified by the beautiful red-and-black markings around the under-rim of their carapaces) than not. They may be deemed Special Concern under the federal Species at Risk Act, but they’re probably one of the turtle species in Ontario that’s doing the best that it can under the circumstance (we are the circumstances).

They still suffer from habitat fragmentation splitting populations apart, traffic mortality (especially prominent in nest-hunting females), diseases spread by invasive turtles (red-eared sliders look a little like them, but lack the ‘painted’ shell-rim and have red ‘ear’ stripes on their heads), surprise fishhooks in their lunches, the historical drainage of wetlands, cottages being built on top of them, illegal collection as pets (daily reminder that native Ontario wildlife may not be kept as pets), pollution, anthropogenic climate change, and occasional malice, yes.

However, this is somewhat mitigated by their relatively rapid rate of maturity and reproduction (a female painted turtle can begin laying eggs at eight years old), so they’re not currently in quite the same degree of ecological pickle as, say the Blanding’s turtle.

The province plays host to two of the painted turtle’s three subspecies: the midland and the western (the former found across the province south of Lake Superior; the latter on the lake’s north and west side). Their fondest homes are slow-moving bodies of water with soft bottoms that hold plenty of vegetation, which serves as both shelter and occasional snack. They are not picky eaters, although they appear to trend slightly less carnivorous as they age.

On the other end of the stick, they uphold the staunch turtle tradition of being eaten by nearly everyone during their childhood and cutting back on potential predators as they age: by the time they’re adults they mostly have to worry about raccoons, minks, otters, coyotes, corvids and cars.

They’re on more comfortable ground with the weather: painted turtles handle winters admirably well, squirreling themselves away in the mud of their shallow-bottomed habitats, where they participate in both the popular Canadian turtle pastime of wrestling the meager scraps of oxygen available in their underwater tombs into their bodies, and – in a truly impressive display of biomechanics even by turtle standards – using the carbonates and calcium of their own skeletons and shells to ‘buffer’ the massive lactic acid buildup that occurs when their bodies are deprived of oxygen.

Michelangelo and Van Gogh are different turtles with seemingly similar stories: Van Gogh was kept as a pet until adulthood (thereby forfeiting her chance to gain survival skills), and Michelangelo almost certainly also underwent the same treatment because in a roomful of human-habituated turtles he’s the MOST human-habituated turtle by a factor of ten. Forget popping in his head, the boy barely cares to move his legs when you pick him up. Alas, this affability is more tempered towards his fellow chelonians: Michelangelo is an unrepentant toe-nibbler, and thus must live in glorious solitude.

I am a somewhat consistent figure in both Michelangelo and Van Gogh’s lives due to my weekly cleaning of both their water filters (with a sink, to remove built-up gunk and food chunks) and their shells (with individually-labelled toothbrushes, to loosen stubborn scutes).

Both tolerate this with some degree of good grace and understanding, but in their hearts, they probably prefer me on the days when I rain turtle kibble or whole mealworms on them, which they snatch from the water’s surface like palm-sized Jaws preying on two-centimeter swimmers.

Speaking of Wildlife is a wildlife sanctuary located in Severn, Ontario. You can book a private tour or a birthday party there, by visiting the website at www.speakingofwildlife.ca. The centre also celebrated its tenth anniversary this fall, and North Simcoe Life sends owner Krystal and all the staff and volunteers heartiest congratulations on this very special milestone!