If you ask my nephew, turtles are freakin’ creepy. I never saw them that way, until our recent trip to Kruger.
South Africans call turtles “terrapins” which is also what the British call them, according to Wikitardia.
Driving a back road from Olifants Rest Camp to the overlook, we stopped while crossing a little pond. It was a pretty little spot, and I noticed a couple turtles in the water.
But as we sat there, we realized the turtles were not just swimming about aimlessly, they were headed straight for our bakkie!
“What…is…happening?” I whispered to Kurt. They were eyeballing us like they thought they could actually overtake us.
And, in fact, their stare was so hypnotic I almost began to think I would not be able to drive away, let alone look away.
“They’re coming out of the water!” It was like somebody decided to put us into a new Monty Python movie, but didn’t tell us. Finally, we incited the only words we could muster when faced with charging turtles (or attack rabbits with nasty, big, pointy teeth): “Run away! Run away!”
We sped off down the road, relieved to know we had escaped whatever plot the terrapins had hatched.
Please folks, don’t feed anything in a national park, not even turtles. If not for their sake, for the sake of us poor, Monty Python-infused tourists who succumb to their beguiling stare so easily.