While walking through the White River State Park the other morning,
I stopped to look over the old Washington Street bridge hoping to see turtles. Rather, a turtle. I'd have been happy to see just one.
The morning was warm and I thought I might catch one basking on the driftwood
I was rewarded with the sight of about a dozen, going about their turtle business --basking on an old log, searching for food, swimming just below the water's surface in quest of some goal known to them alone, or just drifting with the slow current of the river.
I must have seen a dozen of them, with great unseen numbers of them lurking amid the driftwood, underwater, out of sight. My camera was stretched to its capabilities to get a few decent pictures. I was very happy.