When I was about six years old, I found a snapping turtle walking across my grandmother’s yard and eagerly ran inside to tell her. In a panic, she ordered me to stay inside until it was gone, warning me that if a snapping turtle bites you, it won’t let go until it hears thunder.
I felt like I had narrowly escaped a horrible fate, that the turtle might have bitten me and then I’d be stuck carrying a massive turtle half my size on my ankle for weeks. I imagined sitting in first grade and having to explain to my teacher that I was stuck with the turtle until the next thunderstorm.
I also imagined that I would have liked the turtle anyway, and felt bad for him— being stuck on a person for weeks didn’t sound so great for the turtle, either!
Until Fossil joined our education program, I thought my grandmother was the only person who believed this bizarre myth, but I quickly learned that it’s very, very common, particularly in the Southeastern U.S. In some regions, they’re even called “thunder turtles,” rather than snapping turtles!
The internet as a whole doesn’t seem to have an explanation for this odd legend, but after looking into it, I have my own theories.
The Yoruba people of West Africa historically had a rich anthology of myths and folktales involving tortoises and turtles. Many stories about tortoises connect them to herbal medicine and fertility, while freshwater turtles are prominent in tales about weather and rain.
The Yoruba spirit Sango, who is still revered widely around the world, and is strongly associated with thunder, lightning, and rain. Traditionally, freshwater turtles were seen as friends of Sango, and were sometimes sacrificed in his honor.
While I can’t say for sure— and I’m neither a historian nor an expert in folklore— I have a hunch that, when Yoruba people were enslaved and forcibly brought to the American South, the association between turtles and thunder came, too… and that this influence spread to people of all backgrounds, fossilized into our collective cultural memory.
If this is where the myth comes from, it wouldn’t be the only way that African culture has shaped North America’s relationship with turtles. To this very day, the term “cooter” — which originated in the West African Mandinka and Bambara languages— is used by scientists and grandmas alike to refer to a group of freshwater turtles native to the Eastern U.S.
Snapping turtles definitely don’t hold onto anything they bite until they hear thunder, but it’s interesting to consider where these notions may have come from and all the ways that history shapes how we think about animals.
So what do you think? Have you heard this old wives’ tale, and if so, when and where? If you have your own theories and knowledge about why people associate snapping turtles with thunder, please let me know!
For Fox Sake Wildlife Rescue 