Fred is a baby Painted Turtle. David came across him this week as he was walking along the bank of the pond. The tiny turtle had hatched this spring, was journeying to the pond, and was in the grass upside down. “He must’ve gotten tired.” said Davy. He picked him up and brought him home, as satisfied as if he had discovered treasure.
We showed him to Sarah Joy and she squealed, “OH, SHE’s SO CUTE!” to which the brothers all responded as one voice, “IT’s A HE!”
(We can’t be sure if Fred is a boy or a girl, but of course the boys wish him to be A BOY.)
I wanted to photograph his size, so I ran in the house to get the camera and a fifty cent piece. He fit neatly upon it, in Davy’s hand.
If you have children about, I hope you show them these pictures. Tell them that David is ten and is keeping Fred as a pet. He lives in David’s room in a gray bin and eats celery.
All this is stale knowledge to older people, but one of the secrets of the educator is to present nothing as stale knowledge, but to put himself in the position of the child, and wonder and admire with him; for every common miracle which the child sees with his own eyes makes of him for the moment another Newton. Charlotte Mason