03/08/2026
That turtle on the log at the park pond — the one basking in the weak March sun with her legs stretched out like she hasn't moved in months.
She hasn't.
I'm the Painted Turtle. I just survived five months underwater without surfacing to breathe.
In October, when the water dropped below fifty degrees, I sank to the bottom and buried myself in the mud. Stopped eating. My heart rate dropped from forty beats per minute to roughly one beat every ten minutes.
But I still needed oxygen.
My body solved it. I have specialized tissue that absorbs dissolved oxygen directly from the water — through my cloaca. For five months I've been breathing very slowly through my rear end, buried in mud, without moving, in water just above freezing.
As oxygen ran low, my body switched to producing energy without it — like a sprinter in the final stretch of a race. The byproduct is lactic acid. To buffer it, my shell dissolved calcium carbonate into my bloodstream. My skeleton was neutralizing my own blood chemistry to keep me alive.
I used my bones to survive not breathing.
Right now I'm on this log because I need sunlight. My vitamin D is depleted. My muscles haven't fired in five months. I'm slow because I'm relearning how to be a land animal after being a submarine all winter.
🐢 If you see a turtle on a log in March:
- Don't approach, touch, or throw anything to see if it's alive — it's alive, and it's recovering from something harder than anything else in your neighborhood went through
- Basking is critical right now — every minute of sun restores body temperature, vitamin D, and muscle function
- If you see one crossing a road, help it across in the direction it was heading — but carry it low to the ground and never by the tail
- Painted turtles return to the same pond year after year — the one on that log has probably been wintering there longer than you've been visiting
Five months underwater. No air. No food. No movement.
And the first thing she did when the ice melted was climb onto a log and face the sun 🌿