Rollercoasters and reflections
I heard some good news today. One of the injured green sea turtles that I followed from the day they’d come into the center, broken and ill, is cleared for release back into the wild.
The day “he” came in to the turtle hospital was my first day of filming in early November. Man, it really has been an incredible journey… for “him” and for me.
While filming today I noticed something. I saw a behavior that I hadn’t noticed before.
I arrived at LMC just as the first staff members unlocked the gate to the personnel entrance. The turtle yard is quiet then. The only sound that wafts through the air is the faucet-like bubbling of the tank current and the occasional “hiss” or “snort” of one of the patients taking a breath.
Even without the flurry of visiting guests and attendant staff and volunteers, the yard is alive with
activity.
Each turtle is doing their own personal, daily ritual. Some are swimming lazy circles in their pools. Others are taking short, resting dives to the tank’s bottom. Still, others – and quite a few others – are… well, the best way I put it is that they are watching themselves in the mirrored reflection of the viewing ports on the side on most of the tanks.
Certain turtles seem to be somewhat vain. I watched them (there were about three that did this behavior today). At first, I
thought they were anxiously peering out of the window, looking for people. But upon second glance – and after looking at a close-up from an image I just shot – that wasn’t the case. These turtles were entranced by their own reflections.
It would be premature from one observation (and not just a little anthropomorphic of me) to say they were playing or even that the reptiles could recognize themselves in the reflection. I simply noticed that three turtles, in three separate tanks, chose to do similar behaviors a in the “calm”of the early morning.
Every new experience I have with sea turtles opens my mind to a wider realm of understanding who they are – not just as a species of “animal” – but as sentient individuals. I also know more about me since embarking on this documentary. I now know about the dearth of knowledge I had about sea turtles. I know about the animal preferences – prejudices, really – that I carried with me from childhood.
Most of all, I now know that some of my greatest heroes and inspirations have a carapace.
I heard some good news today. One of the injured green sea turtles that I followed from the day they’d come into the center, broken and ill, is cleared for release back into the wild.
The day “he” came in to the turtle hospital was my first day of filming in early November. Man, it really has been an incredible journey… for “him” and for me.
While filming today I noticed something. I saw a behavior that I hadn’t noticed before.
I arrived at LMC just as the first staff members unlocked the gate to the personnel entrance. The turtle yard is quiet then. The only sound that wafts through the air is the faucet-like bubbling of the tank current and the occasional “hiss” or “snort” of one of the patients taking a breath.
Even without the flurry of visiting guests and attendant staff and volunteers, the yard is alive with
activity.
Each turtle is doing their own personal, daily ritual. Some are swimming lazy circles in their pools. Others are taking short, resting dives to the tank’s bottom. Still, others – and quite a few others – are… well, the best way I put it is that they are watching themselves in the mirrored reflection of the viewing ports on the side on most of the tanks.
Certain turtles seem to be somewhat vain. I watched them (there were about three that did this behavior today). At first, I
thought they were anxiously peering out of the window, looking for people. But upon second glance – and after looking at a close-up from an image I just shot – that wasn’t the case. These turtles were entranced by their own reflections.
It would be premature from one observation (and not just a little anthropomorphic of me) to say they were playing or even that the reptiles could recognize themselves in the reflection. I simply noticed that three turtles, in three separate tanks, chose to do similar behaviors a in the “calm”of the early morning.
Every new experience I have with sea turtles opens my mind to a wider realm of understanding who they are – not just as a species of “animal” – but as sentient individuals. I also know more about me since embarking on this documentary. I now know about the dearth of knowledge I had about sea turtles. I know about the animal preferences – prejudices, really – that I carried with me from childhood.
Most of all, I now know that some of my greatest heroes and inspirations have a carapace.
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