I slammed on the brakes, startled by a dark, lurching apparition, as big as a medium-sized dog, crossing the road in front of me. It was a massive snapping turtle, over three feet in total length. I tried to guide her to safety by pushing her across the road with a stout pine limb but she was too strong, too heavy and too stubborn to move. Eventually other cars stopped, and we stood guard until she safely crossed the road.
She evoked a surge of emotion in me I could not immediately articulate. Upon reflection, I think the nearest word to describe my state of being was awe: awe to be in the presence of such an ancient ancestor, such a primal spirit.
That night, when I was editing the photographs I had taken of Turtle, I marveled at what she was carrying on her back: seeds, pine needles and a patch of earth deep enough to grow plants. No doubt about it, Turtle’s back resembled a tiny island!
That image reminded me of an ancient belief held by various cultures around the world that the Earth is supported on the back of an enormous turtle. In fact, in America, some indigenous tribes called their home “Turtle Island” in reference to the belief that our continent was resting on the back of a gigantic turtle.
After my emotional encounter with Turtle, I can better understand the reverence indigenous people have for this ancient archetype: I can’t explain my reaction rationally other than to say, I feel like I was visited by a god.
The warm glow in my heart at feeling so blessed is, unfortunately, offset by the cold fear in my belly about the dire consequences that lie ahead for Turtle, as we humans seek to become the new gods of Earth, overpowering Mother Nature in the name of progress.
I’m thinking of the god-like power we now possess to affect the weather – the consequences of which are now becoming so apparent. But like a 3-year-old child pulling the wings off a butterfly, we take little responsibility for what we are doing.
A good example of this is our current, interminable presidential campaign, which clogs our airwaves with childish personal insults but remains dead silent on matters of life and death, like climate change.
What will happen to us if we continue on this course? What will happen to Turtle. Time is growing short. It may well already be too late for her.
Perhaps the unseasonably warm weather has triggered her biological clock, fooling her into thinking it is time to lay eggs?
If so, her life is at risk, not only from the danger of crossing roads but from exhausting herself unnecessarily, threatening her ability to survive the winter.
Or maybe Turtle is on the move because of our severe drought caused, at least in part, by man-made climate change. Perhaps the nearby swamp has dried up, making her ancestral hibernation spot uninhabitable.
If this is the case, Turtle has been forced to join with countless other refugees from every realm of life, forced out of their homes into a very uncertain life on the road.
Such is the brave, new world of progress and technological advancement that we human beings have so shortsightedly built for ourselves.
(Jean Stimmell is a semi-retired psychotherapist living with the two women in his life, Russet the artist and Coco the Plott hound, in Northwood. He blogs at jeanstimmell.blogspot.com.)