A
Turtle’s Life
My
pond is small, and square, with invisible walls and nowhere to swim to. I’d
been carried and placed among giant, brown square things. All I heard was the
slam of something closing, and now everything is dark. Dark,
dark, dark, overwhelmingly dark. I feel sick. I want the sun, I need the
sun, and it is too dark, too small a space.[1] I am
not swimming, but the water is pushing me back and forth, as if the pond is
being jilted by something on the outside. I struggle to swim up, to breathe, or
contact the air. But the movement pushes me down and around against the
invisible pond. I hear sounds and zooms;
loud, blaring, unhappy, upset sounds, nothing that an animal should scream. I
continue to paddle around, but fail to find food, light, or air. I only see
dark, so much dark, and I cannot understand anything.
I am lifted from the mountain of brown things, and I
finally see the sun as it comes all at once in a giant blast of energy. It
hurts my eyes, and I try to swim away, but I still cannot breathe, and there is
nowhere to swim too. The water sloshes wildly as I am moved. There is no land for
me to breathe on, and the weight of the water pushes me down. My shell aches.
Finally, the world stops spinning, and someone places me on brown wood. I
always want to eat, but now, I hurt too much to hunger. Suddenly, something
happens, and the water swirls, bubbles, and frightens me. But oh a rock, a rock
dropped in! I swim to the teetering edge and breathe. [2] Once
the world stops spiraling my eyes adjust. The ground appears brown, smooth, and
organized with no grass, and the sky is a white-gray with no clouds. The sky
lacks a sun, but the world remains bright. I see an orange square with strange
symbols in an alien language: “U-T-A-U-S-T-I-N”. I understand nothing but my
rock, and my water. I am still ill.
I
lack the will to eat or sleep. Without a sun in the sky the world makes no
sense. So I stay on my rock waiting for the sun to appear in the ugly white
sky. I hear noise, but do not move, because I must wait for the sun. Something creaks;
I notice the entrance to the room opening and a giant in the distance coming
inside. Though it could be the animal I exist with, I swim to go hide. Alas,
the world is of course, too small. So small that it makes me sick to my belly, and
I cannot hide. The monster approaches until it stands right next to my place. I
freeze and stare back, helpless, hoping that if I act lifeless, it will fail to
recognize me. It leaves after a moment. I am clever, it did not see me.
I
hear angry growls and snarls. I poke my head out from my carapace and see two
giants in front of my pond. The one I live with growls the loudest of all and waves his arms around. The other monster, the one that came
by my place before, ends the snarling with a loud grunt, and leaves. The animal
I am with walks to my pond and stares downwards. I hide back in my shell, in
case he wants to eat me.
Days
pass, and the animal I live with stares at me a lot. I worry it will soon pick
me up and eat me. It paces and scratches its head with its claws. When it does
this, I hide, and when it leaves, I am able to swim. I feel better because I
can eat and breathe, but my world is still too small. I cannot find the sun,
and when I try to bask, the outside air feels cold. I wonder if it is time to
hibernate, but there is nowhere to bury myself.[3] So
I keep swimming in circles, confused.
Once
again, I am lifted and carried. I hate the rocking motion of the water, and my
shell hurts as I am thrust against the invisible walls of my pond. I notice
that I am outside, in a world that I can understand. The world is dark as it is
the middle of the night, and I can hear the chirps of crickets. My belly starts
to rumble with hunger. I am carried
across the land for a while; eventually, the animal holding my pond comes to a
stop. The square I live in tilts to the side, and I am falling. I land in more
water, and all I can see are bubbles rising and twisting around me. A creature
peers out from the mass of bubbles, and hisses. I swim, panicked, and come face
to face with another of these beings. I twist and turn away from it, only to be
confronted by another and another and another. All of these new animals swim
like me, but have hard shells that are rough and ridged. Overwhelmed, I sink to
the bottom, and bury myself in the mud.
Morning
comes, and sunlight filters through the water down to where I rest. I raise my
head out of the muck, cautious as ever. The beings around me take no note and
continue to swim. Occasionally they bump into one another and exchange hisses,
and then continue to be on their way. Carefully, I wait until none are near me,
and then I leave my sandy bed. I swim up and up and up until finally I reach
warm air. I find a rock, slide onto it, and I can see the sun. Without
hesitation, I extend my neck to the fullest capacity, and bask.
My
inspiration from the story above came from the University of Texas at Austin turtle
pond. I often go to the area to take naps, unwind, or stare at the turtles. One
day, I was sitting on the grass when I saw a turtle crawling across the lawn. I
expected it to veer off into another direction, but instead it kept coming
towards me at a rapid pace. As it approached, I scooted away, afraid that I was
in its path. However, it changed direction and kept following me until I
finally stopped. Nervous that it was rabid and wanted to bite me, I placed my
backpack between myself and the turtle. The turtle sniffed my backpack
disdainfully, and then stared up at my face. It looked at me as if it were
waiting for me to do or say something. After a minute or two, it turned and
walked back to the pond. Stunned, I followed it, and spent awhile watching the
turtles swim in the pond. One turtle that caught my eye was the one described
in the story: the soft-shell turtle. I wondered how it came into the turtle
pond, as all its comrades consist of mainly red-eared sliders, and other
hard-shelled species. Sadly, many "people dump their turtles in there [the
UT turtle pond] on a weekly basis" when they find they cannot keep their
turtles due to busy schedules or the university restrictions on pets.[4] Thus,
UT turtle pond remains overcrowded with unwanted and abandoned turtles.
Although
turtles may not be the most wanted of creatures, they embody integral lessons
that mankind should take note of and learn from. As a Native American spirit
animal, the turtle is "the beginning of life on this Earth", and
furthermore embodies many different characteristics: patience, longevity and
survival, and stability.[5]
Native
American culture teaches that turtles move slowly and carefully throughout the
world. Contrary to popular belief, turtles move quite quickly, as seen in this
video of a large soft-shell turtle (please excuse the gentleman’s language):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hyUmGHdK9e8
According to Turtles of the United States and Canada, my spirit animal, the soft-shell
turtle, "is a powerful swimmer. Cahn (1937) saw one capture a small brook
trout, one of the fastest freshwater fish. The turtle rapidly overtook the
darting fish..."[6] However,
turtles still carry the stereotype of moving slowly. A possible reason for this
may lie in a turtle's attitude. The turtle "travels his own path in his
own time. He shows us that sometimes we need to slow down... All we possess in
the world is time!"[7] Overall,
the turtle takes his/her own time to accomplish its goals. I feel this facet of
the turtle can teach me a lot. I am naturally inclined to try and finish my
work, day, and errands as quickly as possible. I become irritated when I am forced
to wait for anything. I am more worried about what comes next in my schedule than
what happens in the present, and thus I am very impatient. Like the soft-shell
turtle, while I am more than capable of moving quickly, I only need to in times
of crisis. I feel that from the turtle I should learn, "Moving slowly means
it has all the time to appreciate all of her creations. We can follow this
example, when we take the time that is always available, when we move more
slowly along our own paths and enjoy the journey."[8] The
turtle swims through life unhurriedly because it has all the time in the world
to do so. It has been recorded that some species of soft-shell turtles can live
up to 75 years.[9]
This may not be a huge number in comparison to human years,
however, many animals die at a much younger age. Additionally, turtles are
known for their ability to survive and persevere. Some species of soft-shell
turtle change the color of their shell over time to blend in with their
surroundings.[10]
In terms of camouflage, others bury themselves within the murky bottom of their
environment. Ultimately, when met with a crisis, a soft-shell turtle chooses to
survive rather than panic. Only when threatened will soft-shells “bite and
scratch savagely… and Platt and Brantley (1991) reported that a female even
squirted blood from both eyes”[11]. However,
this behavior only occurs if a person mishandles or threatens a soft-shell
turtle, and ultimately a soft-shell turtle favors hiding and waiting for a
threat to pass rather than attacking.
Lastly,
turtles represent security and stability. Metaphorically, a turtle is grounded,
and is thus less likely to fall while working towards its goals. As I am one to
try and achieve my goals as quickly as possible, I can learn from the turtle
how moving slowly and steadily with give me more balance in my life.
As
a leader, I struggle to keep calm in difficult situations, and to work
patiently. My spirit animal, the soft-shell turtle, embodies the traits I need
to become an effective leader. Additionally, as the turtle never stops growing
until death I will never stop learning or growing in life.
Photo Captions:
Image 1: Why can’t I get out? – Soft-shell turtle
Image 2: Freedom at last!
Multimedia:
burberry_lu,
post to Reptile Forums UK, December, 2010,
Roy Herron,
"Capture Arkansas", Arkansas Democrat Gazette, May 25, 2010,
http://www.capturearkansas.com/photos/15872
Word Count (without
quotations): 1,715