By Gregory McNamee, Luis Alberto Urrea
We now have continuously enjoyed turtles, and we've got usually suspected them of loving us. a global of Turtles, which gathers literary sightings of turtles over again and again and plenty of cultures, celebrates the long-standing position of those creatures within the human mind's eye. throughout our historical past we've attributed enormously anthropomorphic values to turtles—as this anthology will make certain. clever, droll, shiny, cautious, responsible, critical, and wise spring to mind, but additionally, by some means, noble, steadfast, loving. Turtles are consistent symbols of energy, endurance, persistence, and lengthy existence. but, for us, from early life via maturity, they're perpetual resources of enjoyment as good With writings from Aesop to Melville, and folklore from the Abenaki to the Wagarra, an international of Turtles is an anthology of literary, folkloric, and medical decisions approximately turtles and tortoises, compiled from historic, glossy, and modern resources. It seems at those loved creatures from each attainable human viewpoint, revealing them (and us) of their many guises.
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Additional info for A World of Turtles: A Literary Celebration
Finally we would let it go into a drainage ditch. We never came upon a mother laying her eggs-given the heat, perhaps they did that at night down south. Up here I seem to come across one or two of them every year, and have learned to look for them along road shoulders in late June. <><><><><><><><><><><><> I backed the car up to the house to get Susan and Hannah-the older girls were still asleep-and our old pointer Jacob roused himself and walked down with us, conferring by his stiff-jointed, wheezing Nestorian solemnity an air of officialdom upon the occasion, as though we were a commission sent out to investigate an unregistered alien that had showed up in Bowdoinham.
Other neighbors might be less considerate, and the nest itself would, in any event, be packed hard by the traffic in a few weeks, rendering the future of the eggs and hatchlings highly uncertain. So I grasped her tail and hoisted her up. Aloft, she held herself rigidly spread-eagle, her head and neck parallel to the earth, and hissed mightily as I took her over and put her in the little ditch that drains the pond. Because of the recent rain, the ditch was flowing, and as soon as her front feet touched the water, all of her aggression ceased, and she seemed bent on nothing but escape.
I could see where my neighbor Gene Hamrick had carefully driven around her, going well over onto the shoulder to do so. Other neighbors might be less considerate, and the nest itself would, in any event, be packed hard by the traffic in a few weeks, rendering the future of the eggs and hatchlings highly uncertain. So I grasped her tail and hoisted her up. Aloft, she held herself rigidly spread-eagle, her head and neck parallel to the earth, and hissed mightily as I took her over and put her in the little ditch that drains the pond.