Prehistoric Battle
My morning started pretty much the same as yesterday. I took to the vantage point on the protruding tree trunks by the edge of the lake. I had a good sight of Lakeside Park from there and also of the trees on the bank. That was the plan, to capture the first rays of the sun as they hit the trees and hopefully snag a picture or two of the birds. I waited there with the red-winged blackbirds perched around me. They moved to the higher branches, preening themselves in anticipation of the sun:
No sign of the beaver today, it must have been keeping busy on the other side. There was one lone duckling which must have hatched late. It called out for a parent as it swam across the lonely expanse. I did not hold much hope for its survival, poor thing:
The other mallard ducks were feeding further down the lake's side between the two seated areas, seemingly unconcerned with the little duckling. All of a sudden, there was a huge commotion. Lots of splashing which seemed to be coming from one duck. The other mallard ducks left the area in a hurry, heading off in all directions. The duck appeared to be panicking as if it was caught on something. Perhaps on an old fishing line, garbage or something. I decided to take a closer look, making my way up the bank and along the trail to the seated area on that side. That was as close as I could get to the splashing duck. It would struggle for a while and then have to stop to rest, and when it did so, it was floating lopsided in the water.
You might think I'm a little crazy, but this is what I do every morning when I see the ducks to let them know it's me. I quack at them and they do actually come over to me. At 6 AM in the morning, it's perfectly fine to do so because there's no one else around to see me or judge me. And that is what I did, I quacked at the duck and got its attention. It then tried to get to me, flapping frantically with all its might. It had to stop to rest between struggling, and curiously when it did so, it was being pulled down and backwards, which could only mean one thing... a snapping turtle:
Normally when you watch a nature documentary, the cameraman is just a spectator. He does not interfere with the natural course of events and stays impartial. Well, I'm sorry, but I had to do something, so in I went, up to my knees with one camera still around my neck. As soon as I came close to the duck, it tried to steer away from me, and behind it, I could see a dinner plate sized snapping turtle firmly clamped on the duck's foot. I had one failed attempt at grasping the shell because my hands slipped off. I put my hands well underneath on the second attempt, and as soon as my fingers touched the snapper's underside, the snapping turtle let go and the duck took off to the safety of the other ducks. The turtle twisted around and I let go and got out of there as fast as I could, and yes, my camera did get wet.
The duck had gone to the main seated area with the other ducks, and I went around to check on it. It had the injured leg tucked up out of the way:
One duck came over and nuzzled it, as if to comfort it:
Hopefully it will be okay. I have seen ducks with injured legs before and they seem to have done fine. All of the ducks came around me as I checked on the injured duck. There were no ducks in the water at all. But there was something moving in the lily pads. The beaver was my first thought and then I saw a large shell, and then another. Two huge snappers were battling it out amongst the lily pads, with the ducks and me as spectators:
In one twisting, spinning mass, it was hard to distinguish which body part belonged to which turtle:
Claws and jaws were used in a fight to the finish. Each turtle doing its best to overpower:
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No sign of the beaver today, it must have been keeping busy on the other side. There was one lone duckling which must have hatched late. It called out for a parent as it swam across the lonely expanse. I did not hold much hope for its survival, poor thing:
The other mallard ducks were feeding further down the lake's side between the two seated areas, seemingly unconcerned with the little duckling. All of a sudden, there was a huge commotion. Lots of splashing which seemed to be coming from one duck. The other mallard ducks left the area in a hurry, heading off in all directions. The duck appeared to be panicking as if it was caught on something. Perhaps on an old fishing line, garbage or something. I decided to take a closer look, making my way up the bank and along the trail to the seated area on that side. That was as close as I could get to the splashing duck. It would struggle for a while and then have to stop to rest, and when it did so, it was floating lopsided in the water.
Normally when you watch a nature documentary, the cameraman is just a spectator. He does not interfere with the natural course of events and stays impartial. Well, I'm sorry, but I had to do something, so in I went, up to my knees with one camera still around my neck. As soon as I came close to the duck, it tried to steer away from me, and behind it, I could see a dinner plate sized snapping turtle firmly clamped on the duck's foot. I had one failed attempt at grasping the shell because my hands slipped off. I put my hands well underneath on the second attempt, and as soon as my fingers touched the snapper's underside, the snapping turtle let go and the duck took off to the safety of the other ducks. The turtle twisted around and I let go and got out of there as fast as I could, and yes, my camera did get wet.
The duck had gone to the main seated area with the other ducks, and I went around to check on it. It had the injured leg tucked up out of the way:
One duck came over and nuzzled it, as if to comfort it:
Hopefully it will be okay. I have seen ducks with injured legs before and they seem to have done fine. All of the ducks came around me as I checked on the injured duck. There were no ducks in the water at all. But there was something moving in the lily pads. The beaver was my first thought and then I saw a large shell, and then another. Two huge snappers were battling it out amongst the lily pads, with the ducks and me as spectators:
In one twisting, spinning mass, it was hard to distinguish which body part belonged to which turtle:
Claws and jaws were used in a fight to the finish. Each turtle doing its best to overpower:
And to usurp the other:
As the movie said, "There can only be one" and the victor is shown in the picture below. Its adversary had already taken off at some speed to the other side of the lake:
That was a little too much excitement after a heavy night at work. I wiped the water from the lens which had been dunked in the lake and packed up my cameras for the day. Time to go home and change into some dry clothes.
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