Life in the Fast Lane

     I recently made a new friend.  As you might imagine, this new friend of mine is about to be introduced to you.  I also want to share with my readers a concept that, through our friendship, he has taught me.  I find it a difficult, esoteric sort of life lesson to explain.  I may fail to convey it clearly,but I shall, nevertheless, make an effort.

     Turtle time, that’s it. 

Tommy's Paint Job

     Four and one half weeks ago Cypress Rudloe, a friend and turtle lover happened upon this full grown Gulf Coast Box Turtle crossing U.S. 98, the Florida scenic byway.  A turtle on a busy highway, taking his time, turtle time, no hurry, no worries. Cypress kindly stopped his car and walked back to help a stranger safely along his way. That was the first good thing that happened to this turtle, “Tommy” as I now call him, in a long while. Cypress knows a thing or two about turtles and immediately recognized that this one was in grave condition.

     Tommy had, in his travels, contracted an upper respiratory infection that finally manifested itself in his eyes. He was completely blind.  The discharge in his eyes limited his ability to clearly see and find food for weeks. This led to malnutrition and, more importantly, dehydration which only caused the ocular discharge to become more concentrated due to lack of tear production.  Over a period of time, probably weeks, the discharge hardened to the point of creating a frosty spectacle over the cornea of each eye. That sealed his fate. Blind, hungry and thirsty beyond all measure, US 98 was probably a more merciful way to die than starvation.

     I thanked Cypress for bringing him to the clinic and went to work trying to see if we could help him.  He was so weak that he could not even withdraw into his shell as they do for defense.  I could easily hold his head extended for the tube feedings over the next week. In spite of our intensive effort he seemed to be barely hanging on. Turtle time, nothing happens fast.

     When we finally got his hydration better and as he began to get stronger he demonstrated that fact by taking a nip at me while I was giving him an injection. Still blind, he missed, thankfully but I had to smile at his pluck. I started to feel like he was going to make a come back.

     Finally, he was stable enough to be anesthetized so that we could carefully determine if he had functional eyes under those frosted plaques covering his corneas.  I gently flushed over and over with a saline solution in a tiny cannula and those things finally dislodged and came off in one piece much like a contact lens.  And the best part of all, we were thrilled to find what appeared to be two functional eyes beneath.  When he finally woke up (turtle time remember) he would see again in who knows how long.

Taking a Look Before Lunch

     All of this took a great deal of “hands on” time with this tortoise over the course of about a week and a half. Here is were the concept of turtle time comes in. Turtles walk slowly, they eat slowly, they live slowly and fortunately for him, they die slowly. Basically they don’t do “hurry”. That all may be conducive to a turtle-time life style but my problem was they also get well so sloooooowly.  A dog could completely recover from major intestinal surgery in the time it took for Tommy to get strong enough to have his eyes washed.  Turtle time; one must be patient for the patient.

     Several days later I danced when, on his own, he ate his first meal in what was probably months.  Melody started to take a liking to him and bought him fresh salad and chopped vegetables.  Over the course of the next  2 weeks ( 2 days or 2 months? turtle time) he ate like a pig.  He became stronger and stronger to the point that I could no longer talk to him eye to eye. He could once again retreat completely into his shell to avoid my needles and eye medications on a Q-tip. 

Taking a Little Peek

     Tommy is well now. He is soon to go outside in an observation pen for a few weeks to make sure he is safe to go free without any more medication. Then one warm sunny day he and I are going to take a walk back on the refuge, far away from roads and start his life over again.  I have told you how I hate goodbyes. I probably won’t say it but I should thank him for the concept of turtle time. I think I will sit a spell with him in his world and try to share what he has taught me. When we part I will make it a point to slow down on my walk out of those beautiful woods and maybe even stop a time or two and just look about and listen. My blood pressure is falling at the thought. Turtle time, try it, you might like it.

Road to His New Home