3 days ago
To get out of the turtle hospital, slow and steady wins the race
Sue Carstairs holds a painted turtle in her gloved hands and points out its injuries: a fractured shell and wounded underside from being hit by a car. It looks displeased at the inspection.
Two wires are holding together the broken shell, with bandage tape keeping it in place.
The little reptile is returned to its bin, with some lettuce leaves floating in water, to wait out eight weeks of recovery before a release to the same wetlands it came from.
Dr. Carstairs, executive and medical director at the Ontario Turtle Conservation Centre, operates the only accredited hospital for wildlife turtles in Canada. The centre just opened in its new, expanded home in Peterborough, two hours northeast of Toronto, in April.
Staff are busy. So far this year, as of July, the rehab centre has accepted 1,584 intakes, among them 492 snapping turtles, 924 painted turtles, three spotted turtles, eggs and two toads. Dr. Carstairs expects numbers to surpass last year's turtle intake of 2,300, partly owing to more awareness of the centre.
All eight species of freshwater turtles in Ontario are considered at risk federally, largely owing to habitat loss, road mortality and poaching. Three of those – the Blanding's, spiny softshell and spotted turtle – are endangered.
Turtles are vital to the health of wetland ecosystems, dispersing seeds for new growth in their droppings and keeping water clean by consuming dead animals. They also help control insect populations and play a key part in the food chain.
Southern Ontario has the highest density of turtles, and greatest diversity of turtle species, in Canada. The centre receives animals from across Ontario, and sometimes other provinces as well. Last year, the centre says it released 5,011 turtles back to their home wetlands.
Habitat loss and cars are key reasons for turtle injuries and deaths. Others swallow fish hooks and can't eat, or are hit by boats. And there are wildlife traffickers, who poach turtles for the exotic pet trade or for consumption in other countries, Dr. Carstairs says.
The centre's work isn't going to single-handedly save turtle populations. 'But we can buy time to stop the decline and fix the problem,' she says, while working on solutions to protect them. These include determining turtle-crossing hot spots on roads and then creating eco-passages, or tunnels under roads, for the animals to use. Workers also install special fencing as barriers in busy turtle spots.
The centre, which is largely funded by donations and foundation grants, has an educational area, but the hospital and incubation areas are closed to viewing. The Globe and Mail was given a behind-the-scenes tour.
One vet, Kristen Janke, was busy examining a painted turtle in the surgery room. She drilled small holes in the shell, inserted orthopedic wires to hold it together and then applied a bandage.
Hundreds of turtles were in bins recovering after treatment. In April and May, mostly males were brought in. In June, it was females, many hit by cars as they crossed roads, trying to nest. Some died, but even after death the centre can extract eggs, incubate them and release the hatchlings.
Snapping turtle eggs are kept in Rubbermaid containers at 27 degrees – an optimal temperature for hatching both males and females. About the size of a toonie, hatchlings emerge 'with attitude' from the get-go, says Dr. Carstairs, who has worked at the centre since 2009. Fully grown snapping turtles can weigh up to 35 pounds – and live to more than 100 years old. As females age, their reproductive ability increases, meaning older turtles are crucial for the population. But unlike other turtle species, snappers can't retract their heads into their shells, which is why they often sustain head injuries.
All told, the centre will incubate about 10,000 eggs, from different species of turtles, by the end of this season, releasing the babies into the wild either this year or next depending on when they hatch. Survival rates are just as high for those released as those hatched in the wild, the centre's research shows.
While in rehab, the injured turtles are given a diet of smelt, lettuce, pellets and, in some cases, fresh worms.
The centre relies on 'turtle taxi volunteers' – an army of more than 1,500 people – to bring in animals for treatment.
Wayne Harvey has been part of this team since 2019, only he doesn't drive injured turtles to the hospital – he flies them. About three to five times a year, his Cessna 172 serves as a sort-of turtle ambulance.
One time, he arrived at the centre and unpacked boxes of turtles, only to find one was empty. A big snapper had ripped a hole in the side, made a run for it and was hiding under a rear seat.
He has also released some back into the wild. 'We just let them go at the shore, pointing at the water, and they know where to go. They just dive off and away they go.
'It's cool. It's like you're completing the circle of life here – they might not have survived, but now they're back where they belong.'
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