This morning I saw not one, but two, snapping turtles. Big ones, dark brown all over, leathery and self-confident in the way that only a slow-moving animal with a hard shell and jaws that can smash bones can be. The first one was standing in the middle of the path that passes by the river, a trail of swooshy imprints showing its circular, but not aimless, route. I wondered if it was okay - always feeling that wild things, given the choice, avoid human areas - until it blinked and moved its muscular head.
The second turtle had just emerged from the reeds next to the river, right by the end of my jogging trail. It paused in its turtly errand and considered me thoughtfully as I ran by. Its jaw flexed, twice, reflectively, as if it were considering whether I'd make a good snack. I was too fast for eating, even if I am slower than all the other morning joggers, my feet thumping faster than a turtle's heart beats.
It's hard to feel superior though, face to face with a turtle, because it's clear that the turtle's standards of excellence are entirely different from your own. Speed and style and pants that fit matter little in the face of this slow assuredness. The turtle takes its time; if you watch the turtle walk, you see that each step is chosen with care and attention. The turtle would rather be late than stumble along the way.
The turtle, were it able, would probably choose not to wax poetic about all this anyway. The turtle's motto is probably something like "That's That, Then" or "We'll Get There When We Get There." I sense that the turtle has little need for symbolism. So in honor of turtles, in the hope that my steps will be as well-considered as theirs, I'll just observe that a day that starts with two turtles, even those encountered while one is panting and sweating and otherwise compromising one's dignity, is bound to be a good day.
Posted by hilatron at June 26, 2003 11:19 AMDoombot offers two observations: 1, it is turtle egg-laying season. In a mode of motherhood whose standards of excellence are also quite different from that of human mammals, turtles seemed impelled to give birth at far remove from their own comfy surroundings. They travel considerable distances to lay a clutch of eggs, bury them, and then go off about their own slow business elsewhere. Not even visitation rights.
2, Turtles clearly know how to consider the lilies of the field, which toil not nor spin. Hurray for the turtles.
I had a pet turtle once. It turned anorexic, and all its meal worms metamorphosed into beetles. Mom wasn't too fussed on that.
Posted by: EV at June 26, 2003 03:13 PMthat was somewhat existential.
i grew up on a street called turtle creek, and on hot days driving by the embankments, i'd see little turtles sunning themselves. when i would get up close, they'd fall back in the water.
Posted by: jenni at June 27, 2003 03:50 PM