Mike Boswell
Contributor
I drifted slowly over the coral, looking down, looking forward, looking side-to-side, and occasionally, looking up, in case there were cool things to see in the 40-odd feet of clear water above me. I passed the cave and kept going. So it wasn't being in a hurry, or for lack of looking, that I missed him.
But something told me to look back, and when I did, I saw the four other divers grouped twenty feet away, looking into the cave I had just passed. And there on the sandy bottom of the cave lay a large, beautiful green turtle, sleeping soundly, in full view. In an endearing display of symbiotic harmony, he had a fist-sized snail stuck to the top of his shell, grazing on the algae.
How did I miss him? And why do I miss so many stationary things, like the big scorpionfish I had passed the day before? And why does my wife see these hidden or stationary things better than I do? Is it a guy thing?
It really is maddening, the thought of missing things in plain view.
But something told me to look back, and when I did, I saw the four other divers grouped twenty feet away, looking into the cave I had just passed. And there on the sandy bottom of the cave lay a large, beautiful green turtle, sleeping soundly, in full view. In an endearing display of symbiotic harmony, he had a fist-sized snail stuck to the top of his shell, grazing on the algae.
How did I miss him? And why do I miss so many stationary things, like the big scorpionfish I had passed the day before? And why does my wife see these hidden or stationary things better than I do? Is it a guy thing?
It really is maddening, the thought of missing things in plain view.