May in Montana

Couldn't stay in the house Sunday afternoon, so we scurried out to Turtle Springs. Once there, we moved across the sun-dappled duff like predators, or perhaps more like shadowy grazers, being as silent as we could. We tried to generate no vibe of threat. Even so, it took us a while to become transparent to the wild things.
The slow materialization of the nearly-fabulous Fairy Slipper (Calypso bulbosa) was the first unusual thing we experienced. This Montana orchid only appears to innocent children and gentle enlightened adults. Montana folk tales say it should never be transplanted or it will disappear within a year. Suddenly no more. Montana folk tales say it should never be picked except by innocent children and young lovers deep in the grip of Eros and Philos.
We stalked this one carefully and took this shot.

Later, sitting in the shade I pointed out a silver light moving on the far bank of Turtle Springs. I said to Daisy May, my lady, "What is that? A silver light, over by those tussocks that look like a line of turtles. What is?"

I scanned the area with a cheap pair of binocs we happened to have with us.
"Ohmygawd! It IS a line of turtles!"
27 in that single bask. As we studied the far, sunny side of the pond, we found over 100 Montana Painted Turtles, Chrysemis picta, on logs, rocks, and tussocks.
I have spent a few years concerned about our local populations of amphibians and reptiles -- Montana has been drying a bit as well as warming a lot and waterlinked wildlife has been declining. These turtles, with their heads lifted stiffly like wooden-headed erect penises, didn't seem the least concerned.

There were, of course, plenty of geese and mallards present, but the newly arrived red-winged blackbirds trilled the news to us that they were back and this was their backyard.
After an appropriately long visit, we slipped away like deer.