A Herd of Turtles

In today's story, A Herd of Turtles, a group of turtles travel through the woods together

Today's prompt came from an idiom: they're off like a herd of turtles. Or, they're moving like a herd of turtles. It refers to slow and steady progress that will eventually be successful.  

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More about Susan Quilty

Susan Quilty mainly writes novels, including two standalone novels and her current YA series: The Psychic Traveler Society.  Susan's short stories for Freely Written are created during quick writing breaks and shared as a way to practice her narration skills before she dives into recording audio versions of her novels.

Website:  SusanQuilty.com
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Transcript

Below is the transcript for Season 1, Episode 133 of Freely Written, a podcast by author Susan Quilty:
 

Welcome to Freely Written where a simple prompt leads to a little unplanned fiction.  

[Light piano music]

Hi, friends! I’m Susan Quilty and today’s prompt is A Herd of Turtles.

While writing today’s story, I wanted a break from the world around me. From politics and freezing cold weather. Yet, freewriting tends to bring up whatever is in your subconscious mind, so the process itself sometimes leads right back to the thoughts you were trying to avoid. 

I decided to give it a try anyway and choose an animal-based idiom as my prompt. Hence, A Herd of Turtles. I only recently came across this phrase, and it’s a good one. 

While the phrase herding cats refers to the difficulty of getting a group to move in one direction, moving like a herd of turtles is nearly the opposite. When something moves like a herd of turtles, it means slow, steady progress toward an eventual win. 

I wrote today’s story in my Freely Written way, where I sit down with a prompt and write whatever comes to mind, with no planning and very little editing, then record the story and share it with you. 

However, I did look up one fact: whether a group of turtles is called a herd. It is not. The group name for turtles is apparently a bale of turtles. Isn’t it fun to learn something new? 

Last note before the story: Please check out my novels! You can shop for them through my website, SusanQuilty.com, or look up “Susan Quilty” wherever you buy books. There are also links in the show notes. Thanks for your support!

Okay, on to the story:

A Herd of Turtles

The sky was a pale blue when the turtles began their trek to the clearing. There were streaks of yellow and white radiating upward as the sun began its daily climb, lending a lemon glow to their departure. 

Before long, some chipmunks scampered by. Young ones with skittering feet and flickering tails. They chittered at the turtles as they romped through the leaves. 

“Are you heading to the meeting already?” one of them called cheekily. “It’s only in the clearing, you know.”

“They know,” his friend chimed in. “And they’ll be lucky to arrive by the owls’ chorus!”

The owls’ chorus, of course, was performed at the end of the meeting, hours after its sunset opening. 

The turtles paid no mind to the silly chipmunks, who soon grew bored of taunting and scurried away. 

Helena, the bale’s oldest turtle, led their procession. She sniffed at a fallen blossom that lay across their path, then edged around it. The others followed her lead. 

The bale of turtles moved in a loosely spread herd, sometimes two or three across, depending on the width of the open ground. Here, they followed a wide, well-beaten path through the woods, easily transversing the stretch of dirt where little grass grew. It was a natural path, sheltered by a dense canopy and further flattened by the many animals that traveled to and from the clearing. 

The turtles visited the clearing less often than their woodland neighbors. They saw it as a long way to go for little reward. Though the clearing allowed for ample sun and moonlight, the turtles preferred to spend their travels on visits to the dappled pond to the east of the clearing. It was closer to their home and a wonderful place to catch delicious insects and tiny but tasty fish. 

Yet on certain occasions, it was worth joining the others in the clearing. Today was one of those days. The evening meeting would include a session of the woodland council to discuss the rumblings of trucks that had been sighted at the edge of the woods. Helena was a member of the council and would represent the turtles’ interests as they prepared for yet another encroachment by the dread trucks and the people who would follow. 

As Helena and the others inched along the sheltered path, glimpses through the canopy showed a brightening sky. Up ahead, a fox lounged in a rare patch of sunlight at the edge of the trees. 

“On your way, I see,” she called as the group neared. Some of the turtles stopped, pulling into their shells at the sight of the fox. Helena, however, continued toward the fox, step by slow step. The fox waited, licking her paws. 

“What have you seen?” Helena asked the fox. “What of the encroachment?”

The fox lowered her paw and let her amber eyes trail along the rows of turtles stretching far along the path. It was quite a sight. Nearly every turtle in the bale had joined Helena’s journey to tonight’s meeting. 

“It’s not good,” the fox admitted with a sigh. “There is another truck today and people in bright orange vests making their way through the trees.”

Helena took the news with a stoic nod and started back down the path. 

“Wait,” the fox said, rising to her feet. “The clearing should be safe by day’s end, but you may want to turn back. The woods are not safe today.”

Turtles who had tucked into their shells slowly extended their heads to watch the fox with wary eyes. It was quite a thing for a fox to care about the safety of some turtles. 

“Thank you,” Helena told the fox firmly, “but we’ll press on.”

The fox bowed her head in understanding and bounded back through some brush into the heart of the woods. 

The turtles plodded on, navigating around sticks and stones, veering toward the center of the path, then back to one side, leaving space for other animals that might pass. At times, they paused to nibble on grass or moss. Though their stops were brief as the fox’s message had added a greater urgency to their journey.

When the sun was directly overhead, a rustling in the bushes brought their caravan to an abrupt halt. The leaves parted as an opossum trundled onto the path. Her white fur bristled, and her pink nose twitched as she scanned the line of turtles, then waddled toward Helena. 

“It’s not safe!” she warned with a raspy squeak. “People are in the woods. They’re over by the pond. They’re making marks on the trees!” 

She said the last part with indignance, offended on behalf of the trees. 

Several turtles eyed each other, unsure whether to retreat into their shells or scatter into the long grass at the side of the path. 

“We’ll go on,” Helena decided defiantly. She thanked the opossum and urged her bale forward, inching closer to the clearing where they would gather more information and share in the plans for the safety of the forest. 

The turtles crept along the hard-packed earth as quickly as they could. With their early start, they had hoped to be at the clearing before sunset, though it was a long journey, and they needed time to rest. 

After a short meal break, the turtles came around a bend in the path to a long, straight stretch that was wide but riddled with the exposed roots of nearby trees. It would be slower going over the bumpy road, trying not the scrape their underbellies as their front feet pulled them over the gentlest slopes they could find. 

They were in the middle of this difficult stretch when a loud crunching and the sound of human voices caused them all to freeze, then quickly pull into their shells. 

“Wow! Do you see this?” 

Two people stepped from the tree line into the far edge of the natural path. A man and a woman. 

“Have you ever seen so many turtles?” the man asked. 

He pulled out a phone to take some pictures. The woman glanced around the woods before bringing her eyes back to the sea of turtle shells. 

“Keep moving!” Helena hissed forcefully. The message traveled down the line as turtles slowly began to peek their heads back into the light. They were hesitant to continue, but as Helena moved forward, those nearest were urged to keep up. That progress traveled down the line until they were all moving again. 

“Where do you think they’re going?” the woman asked, taking a few slow steps to keep the head of the line in sight. 

“I don’t know, but a whole herd of wood turtles are going to be a problem for the project.”

“Yeah, Kenny isn’t going to like this.” The woman watched the turtles creep along before adding, “Is that what it’s called? A herd of turtles?”

“No, I think it’s a bale of turtles or sometimes a nest. But there’s that expression about a herd of turtles. You know, they’re off like a herd of turtles. Or something like that.”

The turtles continued to pass, keeping their distance from the towering people. 

The woman laughed, asking, “What does that mean?”

“Oh, that it’s slow going but will win it in the end. You know, slow and steady.”

“I like that,” the woman told him before crouching down to get a closer look. The nearest turtles shied away from her, pausing to be sure she would keep her distance before resuming their slow crawl. 

“Well, let’s go report it,” the woman said as she rose to her feet. “Looks like we’ll have to consider plan B and leave this section of woods alone.”

They walked back in the direction they’d come, unaware of the excited chattered traveling up and down the line of turtles. 

Helena paused at head of the line, thinking how happy the council would be when they heard what the people had said. Then she resumed her slow pace, steadily moving toward a more hopeful future. 

The End 

Thanks for listening. If you enjoyed today’s story, please share it with your friends. You can also listen to past stories in any order. Choose a title that stands out and see where it leads. And if you want some more meticulously planned and edited stories, don’t forget to check out my novels at SusanQuilty.com. 

Until next time, try a little free writing of your own. Let go of any planning and see where your imagination takes you. 

[Light piano music]