Slowly my eyelids opened, and I immediately noticed the weight of my shell and the familiar smell of my enclosure back at the research station. It did not smell like fresh fruit. Even though I had the decision of a lifetime to make before sunset today, I woke up with a certain sense of peace about being back here at CDRS.
Hindered by the returned weight of my shell and the yapping of those two female tortoises, my only thought was that by the time I found some space to myself in my confounded enclosure, the day would be half over. Why should I sacrifice myself for the very people who caused me to be the rarest animal in the world? I didn’t ask to be a part of this special mission to save mankind. The people should have to figure this out on their own. But I knew there were animals out there right now, facing the plight of my species to consider as well. This was not an easy decision at all.
“Good morning George, my friend. If you hurry up, you can have an apple that I brought you from home. The misses won’t miss it,” Fausto laughed
I wondered if he could see my eyes roll at his terrible puns. I tried to muster a smile but realized that it was fruitless here. I was in a bad mood, wrestling with my thoughts and as much as I appreciated Fausto’s generosity, all I managed to get out was a slight hiss.
“Oh really? I guess you’re a little temperamental this morning. Do you want to come over for this apple or should I just leave it here for you?” Fausto said placing it inside the enclosure.
My mind was at war with itself; a perfectly chaotic blend of appreciation for the one person who really cared about me and the bitterness about my past, my family’s demise, and my current abysmal situation. I wasn’t the one who caused these problems. Good for them. I wasn’t the one who listened to some serpent and got kicked out of the Garden, which I guess, really happened. I still had a rightful place back in the Garden when my time did come. I wasn’t the one who was so self-focused, that I didn’t see entire species vanishing before my eyes. Astuto’s first words to me resounded in the back of my mind, “You aren’t much different from the people you hate.”
I decided that the apple did look good and that I should at least show Fausto my gratitude for his kind gesture. As I bit into the apple in Fausto’s hand, the thought occurred to me that I was, in fact, being just as self-focused as the people I had grown to hate. I had spent years wishing for my own demise, and not caring about the people or any other animals.
Over the years at the CDRS, I had in fact grown increasingly jealous of ‘cuter’ more people-friendly animals like the giant panda; the poster child for endangered animals and conservation. I was tired of being compared to them. One day two years ago a family visited my enclosure and the conversation went like this.
“Daddy, why did we come to see a dumb, old tortoise?” a little girl asked.
“Well, he’s the last one of his kind dear. This is the only Pinta Island tortoise in the whole world. Didn’t you read the sign?” the dad asked.
The girl continued, “Why would I read the sign about a smelly, old tortoise. It’s not even cuddly or anything. Pandas are much cuter and they can smile. I like the way the pandas in the zoo back home eat bamboo. This tortoise is a slob. Look at all that grass just hanging from his wrinkly, old face.”
That’s because I don’t have any paws. I’d like to see you try not getting messy eating without your hands kid!
“He is a little freaky looking. He’s just staring at us,” the mom added. “That tortoise has only moved two feet in the past ten minutes. Is there anything else to see in this place, or can we head down to the beach now?”
Why was the fluffy, cuddly, bamboo eating panda, with paws, and ‘clean’ eating habits deemed worthy of saving, but an old tortoise was only seen as a smelly old freak? As much as I resented comments like those, I realized my resentment was truly toward the people, not the pandas.
Again engrossed in these thoughts, I heard Fausto saying, “George, you are crying.”
I could taste the salt of tears roll down into my mouth. Fausto hopped over the railing and bent down right next to me even though the sign forbade it during visiting hours. He patted my shell and looked me straight in the eyes and tenderly said, “George. If there was some way that I could see you happy, even for just one day, I’d do it for you. It breaks my heart to know there is nothing I can really do for you, my friend. I hate knowing that my grandkids will never see a Pintie like you, other than in some book or on the internet.”
Something in my heart melted as Fausto kissed my beak, and a solitary tear rolled down his cheek landing on the top of my head. I felt a terrible sense of guilt overtake me. It was if the dam that had been holding back five decades worth of anger was cracking. I looked into Fausto’s eyes, and I could tell he really would have done anything for me. Now I knew what I had to do for Fausto, for pandas, and even for the people. The day rolled on, and I cherished each moment with Fausto mulling over his emotional reaction to my situation.
That night as I closed my eyes, Fausto read me the story of Noah’s ark. I thought about how this story, like the Garden of Eden story, had always given me a wishful feeling inside. To be at a point in time when animals and people were able to live in peace and harmony seemed like a dream that was out of my grasp. As Fausto played songs for me on his guitar that night as the sun set behind the Charles Darwin Research Station, I thought as loud as I could, I’m in!
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