Iget some odd stories crossing my desk, and from time to time they bring back

memories. One that hit this week fit that bill, and caused me to wince at the same time. Just the headline alone was enough to make me consider putting on protective gear before reading the rest of the story.

"Snapping Turtle Bites Boy's Penis"

Apparently, someone released a North American snapping turtle into a lake in Germany. The turtle bit a fifteen-year-old boy through his swimsuit, and again on his hand as he scrambled to get away from it.

When I was young we had a summer cottage on a lake about one-hundred miles north of Toronto. It had a resident population of snapping turtles.

On one occasion, long before I came to be, my father was clearing rocks from the lake bottom to make way for a new wharf in a protected bay behind the cottage. He had a great deal of difficulty pulling one rock from the bottom, but eventually managed to dislodge it.

As he told the story, had that "rock" been facing the opposite direction, I never would have been born. He would have suffered the same fate as the German boy, coming face-toplace with a snapping turtle.

It wasn't uncommon to find snapping turtles sunning themselves on the rocks around our cottage.We'd also see them swimming along with their heads out of the water. They had a face that only a mother snapping turtle could love.

After one late evening fishing trip, I left a string of five or six smallmouth bass tied to the wharf, with plans to clean them for breakfast the next morning. When I went to get them, I discovered that I had provided a buffet banquet for a turtle. He left me with a couple of heads, but little else.

We were taught to give the snapping turtles as much room as they wanted. My mother always knew she could get us out of the water by simply saying, "Oh... Is that a snapping turtle coming around the point?" No one wanted to be in the water anywhere near a turtle.

When Diane and I started going to the cottage after we were married, we'd take our border collie along with us. He loved to swim, and would dive off the wharf after tennis balls all day long if you'd let him, and if your throwing arm lasted.

On one memorable occasion, Diane and my father were sitting on the wharf with the dog. Dad would throw the ball as high as he could over the lake so that it would make a large splash when it hit the water, making it easier for the dog to spot.

It may have been similar to what he did with that turtle he pulled from the lake bottom years earlier.

I was snorkeling nearby, and had moved underwater to the area in front of the wharf. Just as I surfaced, the tennis ball descended. The back of my head and the front of the ball collided, nearly rendering me senseless. I was convinced I had surfaced underneath a snapping turtle. I did what every other red-blooded man would do in that situation.

I flailed my arms wildly and screamed like a little girl.

You really shouldn't scream with a snorkel in your mouth, especially, if the top of is still under water. It just gives you one more thing to worry about. On top of being convinced that a snapping turtle is about to show you how it got its name, you are also painfully aware that you have just filled your lungs with lake water and are about to drown. Having my wife and father a few feet away on the wharf did me absolutely no good.

People who are laughing hysterically make lousy lifeguards.

Snapping turtles were put on the International Endangered Species list just last month. The turtle is now protected, even so far from its natural home. As for the bitten boy, I am sure he will make sure that he is also protected the next time he goes into that lake.

I know I would.

2006, Gordon Kirkland