Far up in the highlands of the Equatorial Mountains, there will be signs of these creatures from great furrows dug into the yielding turf, as if some giant had pulled their fingers through the blue hillvine foliage to reveal the brown soil beneath. The grooves crisscross the hills in seemingly random patterns. Accompanying them at intervals are deep scuff marks and the occasional clump of droppings. The scuffs and the grooves indicate that these large creatures pull themselves along, dragging a portion of their bodies. High on a hilltop surmounted by a large igneous plug, a pair of keeled sliders will be huddled under an overhanging rock, motionless save for small movements of their crescent-shaped heads. There is very little in the way of sonar; they ping infrequently and for short duration. When low clouds grow darker and it begins to drizzle or rain hard, there is suddenly a loud burst of high frequency pings. One of the keeled sliders will move back a meter or so, while the other appears to grow restless, shifting from one muscular, paddle-like paw to the other. Their companion continues to move slowly backward until they finally settle directly under a large shelf of overhanging rock out of the pouring rain. Their sides begin to swell with some inexplicable effort. With each spasm the creature gives voice to a piercing sonar squeal that seems to increase the agitation of their mate, which by now is bobbing their huge head heavily. After 20 such squeals, it is determined that the slider under the overhang is a female.