A
Queer Old Turtle
Moodus, Conn., Sept. 22,
1896
“The Devil’s Blowing Hole”
is a deep body of water which forms a part of that lazy, limpid stream known a
Salmon River, in Central Connecticut, where Joe Cone, the verse writer and
paragraphist spends his summers. The stream winds through that wild but
picturesque famous a few years ago for its “Moodus Noises”. “The Devil’s
Blowing Hole”, whose name is of Indian origin, has at one time and another offered up many curiosities, but none greater
than that which was pulled from its depths on Thursday last by the young humorist.
“Jester Rest”, his summer
home, lies under the east slope and so does the “Hole”. It is only a ten
minutes row up there, and when not entertaining friends under the great apple
trees the young Cambridge author is generally found at this dark pool after the
wary and stubborn bass. Thursday with a companion he anchored and threw out his
bait. A few fish were taken when a strange tugging came on one of their lines.
It proved too much for reel and limber tip, and “hand over hand” was resorted
to, when to the astonishment of both men a monster snapping turtle appeared on
the surface. It is nothing strange to hook a large turtle in this pool, but the
strangeness about this particular affair lay almost wholly on the turtle’s
back, which as it neared the boat, looked oddly enough. Set all around the top
edge of the shell, pointing upward, was a row of small white flint arrow
points, or “Indian arrow heads”, as they are commonly called. These were set as
neatly a a jeweler would set a stone, only many of the points were nearly
invisible from the growth of the shell In the center of the back was a wigwam
set in small pieces of white flint, with a tomahawk and spear-head outlined
beneath. In one corner of the shell was carved a date, “1780”, and in the other
three, “1795”, “1801”, and “1819”, respectively. The date carving was clearly the
work of more educated hands, but the stone setting must certainly have been
executed by the “Machimoodus” Indians at some earlier period. Owing to the
turtle’s being pulled from deep, cold water it was sluggish and easily pulled
into the boat, when the men started immediately for home with their prize. The
carving clearly proved that the turtle had been captured at four different
dates, and then released. The captors finally decided to carry out the same
plan after keeping the reptile on exhibition a few days and photographing him.
Accordingly, he was put
under an inverted barrel for the night, and peace once more fell over the
Salmon. In the early morning his turtleship was among the missing. He had dug
himself a neat hole under the barrel, bidding adieu and leaving no address. A
careful search about the premises failed to discover the old-time Indian mascot,
and if he is captured again this summer he will in all probabilities be put in
irons.
“Camperout.”
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