![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
There's something soothing about the turtle pond on the UT campus.
There's not a lot to it; it's a long wiggly cement pool, filled with mucky dark water, where there are turtles. Lots of turtles. Turtles sans predators who breed like rabbits, judging by the number of them. There's a sign or two asking people not to dump in additional turtles, or harass the existing turtles, and some lawn/trees/sand stuff nearby. A bit of a path, a bit of minor fencing. That's it.
Every time I pass by the pond, there are people watching the turtles. No real pointing or talking, usually; it's not like there's a lot to say about it. "Look: a turtle!" isn't meaningful when there are two dozen in easy eyeshot. And they're not exactly darting away, either. So a person will stop, and watch seven turtles all try to fit on the same sunning spot, and then wander off again.
Today I saw a medium-sized turtle spend about three minutes trying to get up on a tiny smidge of concrete, the only free space available on that slab, as the rest was covered in other stacked turtles. Claws up, heave up, topple off. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It finally gave up and started the slow swim around to look for another spot.
Then two turtles, readjusting themselves, fell into the water.
That's pretty much as exciting as it gets at the turtle pond. I like it. They're not as demanding as the squirrels, and the nervous anticipation about an upcoming quiz goes away after a few minutes of watching a turtle claw, heave, and topple repeatedly. At least my day's going better than its is.
There's not a lot to it; it's a long wiggly cement pool, filled with mucky dark water, where there are turtles. Lots of turtles. Turtles sans predators who breed like rabbits, judging by the number of them. There's a sign or two asking people not to dump in additional turtles, or harass the existing turtles, and some lawn/trees/sand stuff nearby. A bit of a path, a bit of minor fencing. That's it.
Every time I pass by the pond, there are people watching the turtles. No real pointing or talking, usually; it's not like there's a lot to say about it. "Look: a turtle!" isn't meaningful when there are two dozen in easy eyeshot. And they're not exactly darting away, either. So a person will stop, and watch seven turtles all try to fit on the same sunning spot, and then wander off again.
Today I saw a medium-sized turtle spend about three minutes trying to get up on a tiny smidge of concrete, the only free space available on that slab, as the rest was covered in other stacked turtles. Claws up, heave up, topple off. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It finally gave up and started the slow swim around to look for another spot.
Then two turtles, readjusting themselves, fell into the water.
That's pretty much as exciting as it gets at the turtle pond. I like it. They're not as demanding as the squirrels, and the nervous anticipation about an upcoming quiz goes away after a few minutes of watching a turtle claw, heave, and topple repeatedly. At least my day's going better than its is.