There is something oddly majestic about the turtle, often depicted in our fables as ancient and wise. There is this story I heard once of a scientist describing to a class how the earth orbits the sun which in turn orbits the galactic center. At this point in the lecture, the scientist
is interrupted by an elderly woman.
“This is nonsense”, she proclaimed, “everyone knows that the Earth is supported on the back of the Great Turtle.”
The scientist asked, “And on what does this Turtle stand?”
She replied, “Why another turtle of course! It’s turtles all the way down.”
I am reminded of this 
when I see sliding turtles sunning themselves on rocks in the Eno
River over in Durham. They are still and watchful, the river’s sentinels, ready to dive into the water at the first sign of threat. They are otherwise silent and utter no warning cries, but I know if I was a river dweller and saw these guys dive for cover I might suspect something was up.
We had to take our cat Tinky to the vet recently, and while we waited I noticed a large fish tank in the lobby. In it were myriad colorful fish peering out at the air dwellers in their 
funny “clothes”. What made this aquarium stand out were these two cute little turtles who would take a breath and dive down, their short legs going a mile a minute. But this idyllic picture soon turned dark, as I noticed the turtles were intent on chasing the fish and biting their fins. Indeed, on closer inspection the slower fish seemed a bit tattered, while the rest scattered like banshees before the tiny amphibious onslaught. We may have wanted the turtles to behave themselves and remain adorable, but they clearly had other plans.
Growing up in Maryland, we three kids would head off to school in the morning, walking a long dirt road out to the school bus. We would take this same road home in the afternoon, the late day sun glinting through the trees. One day we came upon a large snapping turtle laying her eggs in the sandy soil next to the stream, a tributary of the Patuxent River. We 
raced home and convinced Pop to get the truck and bring the turtle home. I am sure he rolled his eyes, but in thinking that this is one of those life lessons, agreed. We put it in the dog pen, sans dogs, and bent down to look at it. Our turtle, we thought, we got ourselves a snapper! Pop pushed a broom handle through the wire mesh and the turtle promptly bit it in half causing us to take a step back, admiration mixed with fear, supplicants before such a powerful being. The next morning the turtle pen was empty, save a trench dug under the wire. We looked all over but never found it. It may have just gone home to the river, but I want to believe it went back to holding up the world, taking its place in the infinity of turtles, all the way down.
whoisfenton 