I'd only caught glimpses of snapping turtles before on lake or river shores. It looked ancient and Galapagoan and, by its rheumy eyes, as if it hadn't had a good sleep since the disappearance of dinosaurs. Algae was glued to its black carapace like the backing of wallpaper that you're trying to tear off.

In Riding Mountain, in a span of 24 hours, I saw two small black bears and one small cinnamon bear; an elk, while I was off-road mountain biking; and a wolf or coyote, I'm not sure which, as it streaked across the highway. There's never been a better time to spot a wolf. A wolf was seen in East St. Paul recently, and cottagers on Shoal Lake just east of Falcon Lake report hearing wolves howling at night.

I got out of the car. I wondered whether I could pick it up. I started to lift one side of its carapace when the snapper suddenly lunged at me with such ferocity. It's head wrenched around and swung backwards and snapped at me all in one motion, just missing my hand. Apparently, snappers can bite all the way to the back of their shells. I jumped back and felt a hot-cold sweat coat my face, as if I'd been misted, and goosebumps dimple my back and arms. We stood staring at each other, on the gravel road, in the dusk's light, like a showdown at the OK Corral.