You learn a lot of things growing up on a creek bank. You learn the difference in a tadpole and a top water minnow; a crawdad and a salamander; and a terrapin and a turtle.

For example, did you know the best time to catch a bunch of turtles is just after the creek has been up, rolling rapidly from a heavy rain?

Just after the water starts to recede to its normal level, or even slightly out of its bed, you can wade out in the shallow edges and find them. At this time they have usually been displaced from their regular spot on the creek and washed downstream a bit. They are sort of lost, and don't really know which way to go to get away. They become easy prey for a young set of grabbing hands. During my youth, many of them were captured and enslaved for a period of time. (They were not abused or harmed in any way, but held captive for our amusement none-the-less.)

When the rains would come and good 'ole Trace Creek would get "so high you could see under it", we gathered on the bank across the street from our house. The creek bank at that point was a good 25 to 30 feet above water level. We could stand there and watch the tree limbs, trunks, and all manner of debris being carried downstream by the rushing current. It was no time to be in the creek, but an exciting time to be standing there, watching it roll by.

We also knew when it settled down and began to get back to normal; the turtles would be there for the taking. We just had to be patient and wait for the swelling waters to calm.

When that happened, usually the following morning, we all came back and prepared our plan of attack. From our house, we drug a big washtub across the street and over to the creek bank. This was to house our captives until we could divvy them up and each take home our share of the turtles.

The bigger kids would go up stream a little ways, where the creek was a little narrower and not near as deep. There they would cross over to the opposite side. Then they walked back down the creek bank so they were, across from and about 25 to 30 feet below, us. They fanned out about an arms length apart and waded forward into the shallow waters, raking the bedrocks and swirling the water with their hands.

As the turtles appeared, the big kids would grab them and then toss them up to us. Sometimes it was a mad scramble for us little kids to keep up with the rain of turtles coming down. We dropped them into the tub and waited for the next one to come flying up from below. On a good day, we were catching all kinds of turtles; little green creek turtles, mud turtles, soft shell turtles, and small snapping turtles. Boys and girls alike, we had a ball with those little critters.

Turtle mania ran rampant at our house and throughout the neighborhood for several days after a good harvest. Then one day we would awaken to find the turtles were all gone. My mother had turned them loose. Back to the creek they went. Why? She said their mothers were probably missing them; we could catch more on the next rainy day and besides that. . . she needed her washtub back.