This story is one of numerous swimming hole stories that we’ve amassed over the years, but it’s probably my favorite of them all.
First of all, we need to begin with Will Moore’s discovery. Whilst swimming around, my friend Will saw a tiny turtle coming up for air. Soon he had caught it and taken it ashore. No bigger than a fifty-cent piece, it was pretty darn cute. The pool was abuzz with the news of the turtle, and by the time we had our first Cabin Check, everybody was aware that there had been a turtle in the water.
Some speculation followed, and rumors of another turtle were whispered. Most of the counselors were convinced that this was naught but excitement over Willo’s turtle. But the rumors spread nonetheless, and soon even we were scouring the waters for the alleged turtle.
Soon thereafter, we heard a bunch of yelling on the far side of the pool. A counselor had seen a large, black turtle head pop out of the water, and upon being seen, had submerged back into the murky abyss. Now that we had a credible witness to the turtle’s existance, we were on full alert. All eyes scanned the water’s surface in hopes of finding the terrapin.
Every five to ten minutes, a shout would be heard, and a mad rush towards the spot the turtle was last seen would ensue, but each attempt was unsuccessful. Several times the turtle would swim into the foot or leg of a hapless swimmer, causing much flailing, screaming, and splashing, as well as causing the bolder of the counselors, such as Craig Maddux and myself, to dive beneath the brown waters and grope blindly for the turtle, but to no avail. Some of the unscrupulous counselors discovered that pinching a girl counselor’s feet while unseen underwater, would cause just as much panic as the actual reptilian they were mimicking.
Our tactics were not providing the results we wanted. We needed to step up our search. I believe it was Chris Field’s idea to lock our arms and comb the water from one side to the other with a huge, impenetrable line of people. Unfortunately, when the line formed and moved forward, the turtle chose to try to break through in the weakest place, much like a smart Red Rover player. It went straight into a group of linked girls, and the screaming and thrashing that ensued was a sight to behold.
Nobody that I’ve talked to remembers who told the kids to “Do the Turtle Call,” but it became one of the most amazing moments in Camp history. Almost as if they had all been taught that the Turtle Call just like a Cow Call would be “Moo,” or a Sheep Call would be “Baaaa,” all of the kids began to quietly say “Wooooooooooo,” as if imitating a timid and high-toned ghost. It baffled us to no end why they all thought that a Turtle would respond to that specific noise, but soon the counselors were joining in.
Swimtime was coming to an end. Clint Askins was life-guarding, and we were begging him for five more minutes to search out the turtle. Being the classy guy he is, Clint accepted, and granted us the time we so desperately wanted.
That’s when it happened. We saw Craig run and dive into the water. As he stood up, muddy water was running down his body, his arms were raised above his head, and a gleam of triumph was in his smile, for a large turtle was clutched in his hands. The kids rallied to and around him, as did the counselors. We circled the pool in a parade behind Craig and his catch, chanting in an Animal House way, “Turtle! Turtle! Turtle!”
We posed for pictures with it before heading back to the Cabins for showers, each of us knowing in our heart that the day would live on in Camp of the Hills lore, long after that summer had passed. To this day, I consider that to be the most fun swimming time we’ve ever had.
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