THE ADVENTURES OF SHORTIE MAN AND SCUBA SHOP EXPLOSION BOY

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Nothing says excitement like diving into the depths of a murky creek bottom, hoping to find an animal that could possibly snap you in two.

My father and I recently joined about 25 other folks to look for alligator snapping turtles in a small creek down in Southwest Georgia. For those of you not familiar with alligator snapping turtles, are you familiar with the jaws of life? You know, those things rescuers use to rip car doors off after accidents? Right – now put a shell on one of those, and there you have it.

The turtles grow to approximately the size of a Winnebago, and have a thirst for human blood unmatched in the animal kingdom. (Editor’s note: Yeah, the dreaded attack turtle of southwest Georgia. While it can take your finger off, and possibly a hand, don’t buy his story. He was in more danger when he was stopped on the side of the interstate to secure his suitcase in the back of the truck.)

Apparently, the turtle’s numbers are in steep decline, apparently from people using the shells to cover stadiums. And, I am guessing they were at one point a popular stew meat as well. Granted, at one point, “Leave it to Beaver” was considered cutting edge comedy, so we can all pretty much agree that people back then were, for the most part, insane.

The study that we were participating in has been ongoing for 10 years. Hundreds of turtles, including alligator snappers, have been captured, marked, and released, so that more can be learned about these animals. Our task was to snorkel under the murky recesses of Spring Creek and track down the alligator snappers, and then call for someone else who didn’t mind losing a digit to extract the animal.

We were told that, during the day, the turtles will shimmy up under the banks, so all you will see is a big tail sticking out. That was the extent of the direction we were given. I asked my dad what I should do if we found one. “Catch it!” was his response. Gotcha. Catch it.

So we all headed out into the depths of the creek, some of us with snorkel gear on, and some folks decked out with full scuba attire. I had a mask and a snorkel, and the top of a wetsuit. My dad wore a shortie wetsuit, which I found out was not called so because short people used it, but because the bottom part was like a pair of shorts. Both of us kept our tennis shoes on in an effort to offset some of the lovely additions people make to our nation’s waterways.

By the time we were all suited up and ready to go, we looked like the two biggest misfit superheroes ever. We were Shortie Man, and his trusty sidekick, Scuba Shop Explosion Boy. But we were well equipped for what we were going to do, which was to plunge into a cold creek and look under rocks and stumps for big turtles.

Well, we looked. And we looked. And we looked for a while longer. A few people caught some other turtles, but nothing that could yield a bite that would warrant medical attention. Every time I would dive down, I was convinced that this would be the stump that housed the big daddy we were looking for. Nothing.

After several hours, the entire group was starting to gradually spread out, with some people opting for more canoeing than diving. My dad and I had opted for finding a place to park the canoe for a minute so that the feeling could return to my hands and the blue color would start to fade. Apparently, one of the main things a wetsuit does is make you forget about the parts of your body that are not covered in Neoprene, so that after a few hours, you say to yourself, “Hey, waddya know!?!? I barely have use of my hands now! How about that!”

As we were sitting in the canoe, letting the current take us where it willed, we heard someone scream, “WE GOT ONE!!!” A few hundred yards back upstream, someone had located about a 60-pound turtle nestled securely under a rock. A guy with a scuba suit went underwater for about 10 minutes to wrestle with the big guy, only to come up empty-handed. After letting the water clear up, he dove back into the mix. After several minutes of kicking and flailing, he emerged, clutching this massive turtle, which would have had no problem having a Neoprene-coated snack.

After watching the turtle for a while, my dad and I opted to paddle on down to the boat landing, which turned out to be roughly 43,000 miles away. And if you haven’t canoed for several hours straight in a while, I highly recommend the following: either don’t do it, or get an outboard motor. I know a serene and scenic canoe ride seems like a great idea, but man oh man – I had pains in places I didn’t know I had places.

But all in all it was a great trip. We accomplished the intent of the mission, which was to see an alligator snapping turtle, and had a few bonuses thrown in (including seeing a gopher tortoise eating a roadkill armadillo, which is a story for another day). I’m looking forward to doing it again some time soon. As soon as the feeling returns to my hands.