What have I done?

The other day…dear me…there upon the calendar was World Turtle Day (May 23) sponsored by the American Tortoise Rescue. Strange, this coincidence, as I was considering this very topic – one of an aged tortoise I had recently encountered. Desperately I appealed to hare self in the all encompassing knowledge that I must, write this day. But other appointments – a race against the clock…the Hare and Tortoise sprint is on.

At the time I was in the initial planning stages not realizing the significant day was already upon self. With model tortoise (named Rocket) in hand, camera in the other…the subject comes up on the trail. Did I know?…No I did not know!…good grief…the sprint is on. And like the hare on this late afternoon of much to do, I am this way and that as turtles and tortoises become my latent priority. Thankfully tortoise self will appear and I allow myself to watch the sun drop down and the moon rise to its nightly perch. The race is won even when one does not first cross the line.

During the sprint though I find myself unable to locate the images I know I have taken many times (somewhere-somewhere-somewhere). Of turtles basking in competition with ducks on their floating log dock at Beacon Hill Park. Sometimes I keep score Turtles 3 – Ducks 4. I enjoy the pandemonium of duck quackery, the turtle crawl to their landing or as they slide into the water as the dock turns a slight gentle roll. Gravity claims them…slip…ker-sploosh! It happens like their transcendent wisdom seemingly in slow motion. Score Turtles 2 – Ducks 4.

For two days the sun hides behind the counter-battle of grey skies and clouds teasing a fantastical but never occurring downpour. But hare self has left this room the tortoise is at the reigns…all in good time, the sun will return as I begin to ponder turtle and tortoise shell beings that I have encountered.

In Montreal my turtle pets were held in an oval clear plastic bowl (a purpose built turtle home) with water, food of some kind, another plastic mass for the small turtle to lie upon beneath a plastic green leafed, brown trunk plastic palm tree. The first large turtle I saw was of the snapping variety brought to the Canadian recreation centre in the Poetto, Sardinia. So too batches of turtles on other log docks near Kelowna, Victoria or at the Honolulu Zoo. And those grand beings, living symbols of longevity, safety, mana, good luck and peace…the sea grass and algae munchers of the reef – Honu at Hanuama Bay or those I shared the current with off the breakwater at Waikiki.

But it is another free range shelled being, a tortoise, that was the impetus for my initial thoughts of turtles and tortoises. One that walked its gentle gait on a gentle incline when two of us happened upon its wanderings, while we followed a trail leaving Gully Ravine, Gallipoli, Turkey. How I wish I had stills of this Gallipoli wanderer. It is this tortoise that started my initial thoughts about Timothy a Royal Navy tortoise mascot.

Timothy, whose gender was later learned to be female, was believed to have been born on a Mediterranean shore of the Ottoman Empire (modern-day Turkey). In 1854, Timothy, about 10 years of age, was removed from a Portuguese privateer by Captain John Guy Courtenay-Everard of the Royal Navy. Service aboard Captain Courtenay-Everard’s ship was eventful and Timothy was at the Bombardment of Sevastopol and served on other ships of the Royal Navy until 1892 when discharged ashore. Taken in by the Earl of Devon (family name Courtenay), Timothy remained on this earthly plain until 3 April 2004, aged about 160. Timothy was the last survivor of the Crimea War.

Timothy’s final years were spent in the rose garden of the Earl of Devon at Powderham Castle. Timothy was later cared for by Camilla Gabriella Courtenay (1913-2010) the daughter of the 16th Earl of Devon. It is recorded that on Timothy’s underside were the etched English words Where have I fallen? What have I done?, the English translation of the Courtenay family’s Latin motto.