![]() How to Choose a Proper Tank for Your Common Snapping Turtle So let’s take a look at each item on the list and see how to choose the best one for your common snapping turtle. And the same applies to the rest of the things. If, for example, you get the wrong basking area, your turtle won’t be able to stay on it and it won’t be able to get the benefits of the heat and UVB lamps. But it’s very important that you get each one of them right. So in order to make the perfect common snapping turtle tank, you don’t need that many things. But don’t worry it’s actually quite simple to make the perfect common snapping turtle tank setup.Īny common snapping turtle tank will need the following things: So it’s important that you get everything right. I hope you too, even if you’ve never laid eyes on the controversial species, take something from wild geese.Common Snapping turtles don’t need too much to be happy, but the few things that they require are essential. And when I do see the geese or stumble upon this poem, I’m reminded of this necessary perspective and it makes my problems a little more tolerable. As in his case, they were gone throughout the winter and most of the summer, pooping elsewhere. Geese help pollinate by dispersing seeds from fruits or plants (giving some understanding as to why my grandfather didn’t want a blackberry bush in the middle of his horse grazing field) and provide valuable nutrients for the soil through their poop! They too serve importance to ecosystems, even if it’s hard to see at first glance.Īdditionally, their impermanence is a symbol of change, a symbol of temporary pain, for my grandfather at least. They too belong “in the family of things” even if they aren’t loved by all. Yet, despite his best efforts, they return each year: they eat, they poop and they eat some more. As Oliver says, we must “let the soft animal of body, love what it loves.” This is agentle but necessary reminder to give into the cliche of being yourself every once in a while.Īnd – although I don’t see wild geese often – when I do, I am reminded of my grandfather and his disdain for the animal. Just as the geese love my grandfather’s field - despite the threat of his echoed screams - we humans must do the same. In that way, we are not so different from wild geese. We are not meant to be static beings, we too must surrender to the impermanence of things. To belong, we must follow in nature’s neverending footsteps. As the winter-burrowed tulips in spring, the world moves onward. I find comfort in that idea.Įach fall as the leaves depart from their trees, the world moves onward. Through vivid imagery of nature, she showcases that everything is temporary and that everything moves onward. Throughout the poem, Oliver underlines the importance of imperfections, being true to oneself and finding peace in the constancy of nature. I never thought much about this moment or about geese at all until I read “Wild Geese,” a poem by Mary Oliver. He murmured again shaking his head, and this time I listened: “All they do is eat my precious field and poop.” The chaos subsided, and everything was quiet. Under his breath, he murmured “God, I hate geese,” and before I could fully make out what he was saying, he was yelling at the top of his lungs, “GO, GET ON NOW, YOU GEESE.”Ī rush of flutter erupted in the distance as the geese took flight once more, high over the orange and red-streaked leaves and off into the distance. Simultaneously, my grandfather sat down next to me, looking up I watched as his heavy eyes fixated on the geese. ![]() It was then when the wild Canadian geese, with their long dark necks and white cheeks migrating south for the winter, flew high above, landing in the hay-ridden field. Instead, I reframed my view on the hay bales far beyond the pond, perplexed at how they achieved such a precise shape. ![]() My first memory of geese belongs to my Grandfather, “Poobah.” He, more than anything else, hated wild geese.Įach fall I’d sit on the porch of his self-crafted-farmhouse in upstate New York and watch the light fade over the pond in the distance - a pond I was repetitively cautioned to stay away from as a result of a snapping turtle infestation. They were something to chase, something that made funny noises, something to observe. To a 6-year-old me, they were nothing but enticing objects in the perfectly oriented display of nature. Long before I knew how to register just what a wild goose was, I was surrounded by them.
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