14 Nebraskaland • April 2022
IN THE FIELD
Male and female ornate box turtles in a Sandhills blowout. GERRY STEINAUER, NEBRASKALAND
By Gerry Steinauer, Botanist, NGPC
TURTLE LOVE
One morning last June, while photographing wildflowers
in the Sandhills blowout, I came upon a pair of ornate box
turtles. I determined, based on eye color — male box turtles
have red eyes, while a female's are yellowish-brown — that
they were of the opposite sex, apparently an amorous couple
on a blowout tryst. And I was intruding.
I hated to be rude, but with no box turtle photographs in
my portfolio, this was, for me, a fortuitous photo opportunity.
So I crept in close to the couple and set up my tripod. The
male, either scared, shy or embarrassed, wanted nothing
to do with this botanical paparazzo and instantly retreated
to the safety of his shell, leaving only the tip of his nose
sticking out. He remained unwilling to pose and, after a
few photos, skedaddled, running as fast as a turtle can to
shielding vegetation, perchance a patch of sand lovegrass,
downslope from the blowout.
The female, on the other hand, was not the least bit
camera shy. She stayed put, head exposed, the perfect model
of female turtleness. Perhaps she decided that dealing with
a camera-carrying botanist was less stressful than being
pestered by an aroused male. For a female box turtle, mating
is a rather trying event, as here described by one author: "The
male chases the female, biting her on the neck, head, and the
edge of her shell. He may even roll her over on her back. The
male eventually mounts the female … and hooks his toes into
the female's shell." The female's only satisfaction appears
to be that pushy males sometimes fall on their backs while
doing the deed and, if they're in a place where they can't flip
themselves over again, die.
After posing for about 10 minutes, the female became
restless, her eyes seeming to say, "That's enough old chap. I
need to get going." So I folded up my tripod, thanked her for
her time and left. At the dune's crest, I looked back to see her
sauntering downslope, perhaps to locate her beau. Or not.
