On considering the advance of western civilization

I had a turtle come visiting a couple days ago.

Actually, I’d have to say that visiting probably overstates his intentions. Passing through is probable closer to the gist of the matter, although with turtles, it can be hard to tell.

I never would have noticed the critter, who seemed to be heading from someplace dry to someplace wet (I can only say that with tentative certainty based on the observation that his nose was pointed in the general direction of the river when I first noticed him and seeking out wet places is totally in character for a turtle. But again, you can never be sure with turtles), except that Milo, the rental dog, dimly sensed potential lunch loose on the lawn and went on the attack.

The turtle observed the dog, folded his legs, tucked in his tail, and telescoped his neck till only nose and glint of eyeball could be seen.

He then took a nap.

Meanwhile, with a great deal of yapping, pawing, and nosing about, the dog is discovering that a slumbering turtle is about as edible as a rock that breathes, and breath or no breath, a rock makes a poorer dinner than Alpo.

So Milo gave up on the turtle and went back to his frenetic attempt to master tree climbing, the better to bother the city’s squirrels.

After a bit, the turtle simply untucked his tail, unfolded his legs, poked his snout in the general direction of the Mississippi and went back about his business. Totally unimpressed with his near brush with death.

But then turtles are like that.

There is no such thing as an excited turtle.

For a turtle, type A behavior amounts to being the first to fall off the log when a fishing boat passes.

There will never be coronary care units set up for turtles.

The average turtle lifestyle doesn’t encompass much beyond sitting on a log, eating bugs, and making more turtles.

In the winter they hibernate.

Competitive creatures they’re not.

But then, who or what are turtles going to compete against?

The tortoise may have beaten the hare, but it was never any big deal to him. I doubt if he ever would have entered the race if the starting line had been wet, with plenty of bugs in easy reach.

Particularly if there was a lady tortoise nearby.

One-upping a rabbit just doesn’t figure high on a turtle’s list of priorities.

But then, a turtle’s list of priorities is pretty short.

Granted turtles probably aren’t the smartest creatures to grace God’s green earth. They probably wouldn’t score much better than the average high school senior on the SAT, and there hasn’t been one yet who’s made it to the final round of Double Jeopardy. But then they don’t have to be all that clever. They hold the original, conceptual patent on the motor home, pretty much eat stuff that nothing else wants, and for the most part are as interesting as rocks.

In other words, a turtle is essentially hatched into retirement.

It makes for a pretty smug species.

They just lie there on their rocks and logs, sunning themselves like they have for the last hundred million years or so. Totally satisfied with themselves they just lie there, staring out at the passing world as if to say, “Evolve, sucker...I’ve got mine.”

Turtles are like that...

These days, we could learn a lot from turtles.