Since our return from a recent visit to the Galapagos Islands, where we swam with sea lions, watched the mating dance of the waved albatross, observed a frigate bird high above us show his red throat, and stood within a few feet of a giant land tortoise as she grazed on grass, I’ve come to realize how far I’ve traveled from those days in North Carolina when I was the proud owner of a green pet turtle that I cared for in a small plastic pool.
These tiny turtles could be purchased in the five-and-dime stores of my childhood. Such amazing stores for children! All laid out in rectangles of counter after counter: the perfume counter, the hosiery counter, the underwear counter.
Each counter was overseen by a single salesperson, complete with her own cash register. There was no central station to which you carried your merchandise, no credit cards for that matter. In fact it would have been unheard of to carry your merchandise from one place to another in the store. You chose whatever, paid for it with cash, and then moved to the next counter for your next purchase.
It was mid-July, 1950, I was almost eight years old, on the day my mother and I walked by the turtle counter. There they were, turtles. An entire section was devoted to these small green creatures, some swimming in their shallow tanks, others “sunning” on their plastic promenades. My mother, who was probably headed to the underwear counter, paused as I stood before the turtles. “No.” she said. “Absolutely not. No turtles.”
By my birthday in October, I had managed to convince her that a turtle was a small pet: one that would not track mud into the house, one that would be easy to take care of.
Fast forward to July, 2015, when our family of twelve visited the Galapagos Islands where we saw the giant tortoises made famous by Darwin on his visit aboard The Beagle in 1835. During Darwin’s time, these tortoises were captured and eaten by the inhabitants and visitors to the islands. Darwin writes: “It is said that formerly single vessels have taken away as many as seven hundred, and that the ship’s company of a frigate some years since brought down in one day two hundred tortoises to the beach.” The giant tortoises were almost extinct until the islands became protected. Today we can stand by these large reptiles and watch them munch on grass unafraid like most all the animals, birds, fish, and reptiles in the Galapagos. It gives one hope.
From tiny turtles in a North Carolina five-and-dime store to giant tortoises in the Galapagos of Ecuador—from the 1950 to 2015—how far I’ve traveled. Yet these turtles and tortoises still tell me to slow down, to take my time. The turtle has become my totem creature. Can I slowly gain even a little wisdom? Can I carry my home wherever I go? Can I persist? Trust my path no matter what?
Oh yes, I’ve become a turtle. Wrinkled. Shell intact. Yet vulnerable. Like that tiny green turtle that sat in my hand so long ago. And even the large tortoises of the Galapagos. But, good news, turtles and tortoises live a long time. Lonesome George lived to the age of 102. Plenty of time to do our work—slow but steady within shells/rooms/studies/homes. We write and read and move along.
Lonesome George
(1910 ? to June 24, 2012)
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Writing Idea: Pets–write about your first pet. Or your “totem animal.” Is there some living creature to which you feel a special bond or identify? Or try to connect a small memory (those little turtles) to a more recent one (Galapagos tortoises). How do animals (birds, reptiles, fish) enter into your writing?
“Having the turtle as totem means that you have an affinity with the ancient wisdom of the earth. You are naturally tuned into the elements, land, plants, people and animals. You carry your home on your back figuratively speaking and feel at ease wherever you are.” —-Elena Harris from “Turtle Spirit Animal”
“In modern China, turtle is one of the four divine animals along with dragon, phoenix, and chimera.” Turtle Symbolism
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“When we were little,” the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, “we went to school in the sea. The master was an old Turtle – we used to call him Tortoise -”
“Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?” Alice asked.
“We called him Tortoise because he taught us,” said the Mock Turtle angrily: “really you are very dull!”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass
I had forgotten, until I read about the number of turtles eaten, how common turtle soup was on the menus of many Philadelphia restaurants way into the 50s, at least. Always served with a little bottle of sherry, should you want to add more. I can taste it now.
Aha! My totemic animal cringes!
Turtle soup was a delicacy eaten even by Darwin himself. You are forgiven.
An insightful and thoughtful essay.
Thanks, Marjorie. Good to hear from you!
When I was a child, roaming on the prairie, we often came across a turtle which we promptly took home, hoping to make a pet of. , However, preferring his own habitat, he eventually wandered back to his family. We understood, but it was fun for a while.
Hi, Edna. Thanks for stopping by. I always love turtle stories. Female snapping turtles crawl out of our lake every spring and lay their eggs in our yard. They are very determined–making a deep hole with their tails, laying the eggs, and then crawling back into the lake. The raccoons promptly find the eggs. And the next morning, all the eggs are eaten. It is amazing that enough little turtles survive to grow into the large, moss-covered ones that emerge from the lake. This year our granddaughters watched such a turtle lay her eggs. My husband covered the eggs with the round screen from our fire pit. It takes 72 days for the eggs to hatch, and we’re keeping careful watch to see if any make it!