Eldey bid me goodnight, and Astuto said he needed to figure out how he would begin his part of the mission. According to Astuto his leg of the mission was over 6,000 miles and by boat, it would take about fifteen days. Assuming everything went perfectly, he would arrive to meet up with Strong around day 18 and it’d take another ten days or so by boat to meet me at Pinta Island. It still seemed so easy. I mean sure that would put Astuto and Strong with me and the others on Pinta Island on day 38, but that was still a two-day buffer.
Before going, Astuto told me a little more about my role on Pinta Island. He told me that it wasn’t as easy as sitting under my favorite prickly pear cactus waiting for 40 days. As he explained things I had two main roles; one was to get in contact with Fausto, and only Fausto. I told him I was confused because I thought I left Fausto to come on this mission. I didn’t understand why I had gone extinct to get back to Pinta Island to go back to Fausto at the CDRS. I could have simply contacted Fausto while I was living in my enclosure at the Charles Darwin Research Station.
Like most aspects of this mission, things were never straight forward. My biggest challenge was getting in touch with Fausto who was on Santa Cruz Island. Now it might not sound like much but as I understood them from the maps of the Galapagos Islands that hung around the research station that was about 75 miles away from Pinta Island. Giant Tortoises aren’t known for our great swimming abilities, which is why most tortoise species never had a chance to mix in the past. It might take me the remaining 37 days just to reach Santa Cruz assuming I didn’t drown first.
If that was the easier first role I didn’t want to know what my other job would be. Astuto explained that I’d need to discern how and when to talk to various members of the group. It would be critical that I speak to each animal of a team individually over the next several days to encourage them to link up with the others in their triad. Once the members of the team were together they should be safe and wouldn’t be as susceptible to any onslaughts by Lusadé. This led to Astuto’s most stern warning; beware of doing ‘all calls’ within the group. Astuto seemed to believe, though not sure, that during all calls other animals might be able to listen in to the group’s conversations. If that were, in fact, the case, all calls could put members of the group and the whole mission in serious jeopardy.
“Tortoise, you need to remember what each creature shared in the Garden and coach them through their fears. That is why I allowed us to spend some time in the Garden doing those terrible ice breakers. You are the most important link to this mission; not Eldey and not me. You, Tortoise, have the power to help others, and your ability to communicate will be the key. Remember that it’s not always what you say, but sometimes what you don’t say that can move things forward. Use discernment and compassion when speaking with others. I know this is not always an easy thing to do for you or me. If you don’t know what to say or what to do; think about what you think Eldey would do. I know you can do it Tortoise and remember even though you are alone on that island, you are never truly alone. Good night,” Astuto said in a softer, compassionate tone.
I was stunned by this short conversation with the old dodo bird. For a creature known as dumb, he appeared rather wise. He had a softer side to him, but it did bother me that he still referred to me as Tortoise. Maybe I should just call him Dodo then.
Before letting bitterness over names take over my thoughts, I decided to check in with members of the Southern Triad first. From the sketch in the sand back in the Garden, it seemed like Stephen was going to meet up with Moana somewhere around the northern tip of southern New Zealand. At least that’s what I remembered from Eldey’s sand sketch. I also decided to draw Eldey’s sketch in the dirt at the base of my cactus to the best of my memory. That way I’d be able to semi-track the teams’ movements as they approached Pinta Island. I was still getting used to having this one-way communication system, but in some ways, it made learning how to talk with others a little easier.
“Stephen? Stephen, can you hear me? I just wanted to see how things were going for you on Stephens Island,” I said waiting for a reply.
“George, it’s nice to hear from you. It’s a little ironic to say to you, but I was feeling a little lonely myself out here. I heard you call us all earlier in the day, but I hadn’t heard from you after that. How are the others doing?” the little bird asked.
I told him briefly about my conversation with Eldey and Astuto, which he was delighted to hear. I told him I wasn’t too excited about trying to island-hop across the ocean. He said he could relate.
“George, Stephens Island is a very tiny grass-covered rock about two miles from a much larger island called D’Urville Island. I have to find my way across a small channel to the mainland of southern New Zealand. Hopefully, Moana will be there to meet me near the city of Nelson,” Stephen stated.
“I will try to contact Moana now,” I said, getting ready to invite her into this conversation.
But the little wren stopped me before I could. “George, before you contact Moana could you give me some ideas about how you are planning to cross the ocean to reach the research station? I’ve been standing here on this beach for the past day and a half trying to figure out how I should go about doing the same thing. Thankfully there are no cats to be seen on Stephens Island anymore. It’s still a loud, bustling nesting colony for seabirds. Anyway, do you have any thoughts, George?”
“I know you can’t fly and you’re probably a poor swimmer like me, so…,” I said thinking. “There’s still a lighthouse there on the island, right?”
“Yeah, it’s just a short hike up to the lighthouse from this beach. Why? What are you thinking?” Stephen asked curiously.
“Well the people at the CDRS always leave garbage around, so maybe you can find a bottle or a small container in the trashcan to use to float across the channel to D’Urville Island. Maybe you can also find a spoon for a paddle or something?” I said trying to sound helpful and encouraging.
“I had walked near the lighthouse cautiously, not knowing if there were still cats and I didn’t see any people around. I think the people have set things up so that the lighthouse runs by itself now. It’s not a very big island at all, so it’s pretty easy to see who is here and who’s not. Just another reason my kind couldn’t hide from Tibbles the cat,” he said. “I will head back up to the lighthouse to see what I can find and let you know. Are you planning to sail 50 miles in a giant bottle too George,” he mocked.
I enjoyed hearing from that little wren. He hid his obvious fears well for such a minuscule fellow, plus he had a fun side about him that Eldey and Astuto lacked. I told him I’d try to contact Moana while he climbed back to the top of the hill.
“Moana, can you hear me?” I asked. It seemed weird to be talking so clearly with animals that were not actually with me. There was no response, so I called her again; still no response.
“I’m here,” Moana’s faint voice finally replied. I remembered that even in the Garden she was a very soft-spoken, straight to the point talker.
“Are you getting closer to a rendezvous point with Stephen?” I asked.
Again, a long wait with no response, so I continued, “Stephen is going to try to find something to use to float across two miles of ocean to get to D’Urville Island, and then he is planning on meeting you in the town of Nelson in northern Southern New Zealand. Does that make sense to you? Are you anywhere near there right now or are you further south than that?
After another awkwardly long pause, Moana simply replied, “Yes.”
“Yes you are near Nelson or yes you are further south?” I said trying to clarify things for myself and for Stephen who I could hear panting in the background running up the rocky ridges back to the lighthouse.
“Yes,” the giant moa replied again.
“Let…me…try…George,” Stephen chimed in. “Moana are you closer to Nelson, Christchurch, or Dunedin?”
“Dunedin,” she replied.
“Stephen, how far does that make Moana from your rendezvous point?” I asked directing the conversation toward the more outspoken wren. I tried to appear like I knew what I was talking about, but I had never heard of any of these three places. I mean even asking about northern Southern New Zealand sounded more like a riddle than a place, but I left it up to their regional expertise.
“I think that’s about 350 miles or so from here. So that means Moana could be here in ten hours or so,” Stephen said matter-of-factly.
“Wait. I thought you said Moana is 350 miles away,” I said thinking like a tortoise. “How can Moana possibly get there in half a day?”
“Well George, that’s simple. She’s huge! I mean an ostrich can sprint up to fifty miles an hour over short distances, but a giant moa is much, much larger and much, much faster. Watch what I mean,” the wren said happily. “Moana, how long do you think it’ll take you to reach me?”
Almost confidently Moana replied, “Eleven hours, but I need a short nap away from people.”
“Well Moana, that’s a little disappointing. You’re slowing down in your old age,” the little bird mocked. “I’m just kidding Moana. You know I love you and I can’t wait to sit up on your shoulders and feel the cool breeze as we ‘fly’ across the ground.”
“Moana fly,” the colossal bird laughed heartily, getting the little wren’s joke.
I checked in with the third member of the Southern Triad and as expected Benjamin was full of nothing but confidence. She told me and the other two birds that she was already on a large shipping vessel sailing toward Nelson. She should be there in another 3 days. I asked her how she had snuck onto a ship with so many people on board, and she said it wasn’t that difficult.
She had said there was only one tense moment for her when she got near the city of Hobart in Tasmania. A tourist had spotted her running across an open field to reach a pocket of trees. Benjamin said she thought the tourist might have caught her on film. Her concern was realized while she was hiding behind some dumpsters. She heard many people talking about some amazing video that was all over the news. Being that Benjamin had gone extinct in 1936, she was familiar with the people’s video technology. In fact, I had seen some of the video clips of thylacines myself back at the CDRS.
“I should have gone around the clearing, but I wanted to make my portion of this trip as short and easy as possible,” the Tasmanian tiger said disappointed in her carelessness. “I shouldn’t have rushed things, and now the people are looking for me around Hobart right now. They may have it on film, but the people won’t be looking for me on a ship heading east to New Zealand. Every person knows that wild animals don’t willingly get on boats,” Benjamin said regaining her confidence.
“So you’re saying the people know about you being back in Tasmania? Isn’t that a bad thing for our mission?” I said, a little annoyed by her apparent arrogance.
“George, the people have been saying I never went extinct for a long time. They report seeing thylacines all the time; mixing us up with feral dogs or dingoes. People will see what they want to see and will believe what they want to believe. Plus, there still are no thylacines in Tasmania; at least not as of 2 days ago when I boarded this ship and hid down in the cargo hold. The way I figure it, I should be in Nelson, New Zealand in about 3 days. Hopefully, I can meet up with Stephen and Moana when I arrive and we can find another ship headed toward the Galapagos Islands. By my calculations it should be a 19-day boat ride getting us to Pinta Island by day 25; in plenty of time to save the day! Now if the three of you don’t mind, I’m going to go get ready for a good night’s sleep and think about how to hide a twelve-foot tall bird on the next boat,” Benjamin said sarcastically.
By now the sun was starting to set on Pinta Island. I figured that I would check in with Stella before getting a good night’s sleep myself. I figured Martha and Boomer would be asleep like Eldey, so I’d contact them first thing in the morning. Plus, I wasn’t sure I could handle a Martha conversation right now. Talking to so many creatures all day in my head was still taking some getting used to. After my morning conversations the next day, I would try to concoct some kind of plan to swim across 50 miles of Open Ocean to the closest island.
“Stella, how are things going for you?” I said.
“Great!” she replied almost instantly which surprised me. Most of the other animals had to reach a stopping point, or take a moment to gather their thoughts or formulate short one-word answers.
“Great? Well, that’s… great,” I said before I could formulate my thoughts. That sounded so dumb, but I couldn’t take it back now. “So are you doing okay then?”
“As I said, I’m doing great George,” she said again, overly excited. There was something in her extremely jovial tone that seemed off, but I didn’t want to question her.
“Well, that‘s nice to hear Stella. If I remember right, you can cruise at about ten miles per hour, and they had said in the Garden that your leg of the mission should take 20 days as the Steller’s sea cow swims? I think you’ll be the first one to reach Pinta Island. It will be nice to see someone from the group again,” I confessed.
I thought I must have offended her with something I said because there was such a long pause, that I thought I was talking to Moana again.
“George. I know the team is depending on me, and that my trip is supposed to be the easy one, but I’m not sure… ,” Stella stammered. “I’m not sure that I can do this.”
Now it was my turn to pause for a moment and consider how to respond. I didn’t want to offend or discourage Stella. I thought back to the advice Astuto gave me earlier and tried to think about how Eldey would approach a situation like this.
“Stella, I know that you can do this. I have complete and total faith in you,” I said hoping she didn’t sense any worry in my voice. “What is keeping you from leaving the Commander Islands and swimming to me? How can I help you along the way?”
“Well George, as I said back in the Garden; I fear the deep open water of the ocean. Steller’s sea cows weren’t known for our epic migration routes like whales or other large sea creatures. Like everything else we do, we vanished slowly from coastal regions around the northern Pacific. Even at our last stronghold in the Commander Islands, we didn’t move away from the hunters when they approached us. It’s not that we couldn’t leave, it’s that our fear of the Open Ocean kept us close to the shores of the islands,” she admitted rather despondently.
“Just because you couldn’t do it as a species long ago, doesn’t mean it’s impossible for you now. I know that you can do this Stella. I will make sure that I’m in contact with you every day to help,” I assured her.
“I want to make the swim, George. Maybe I could swim along the coast south to you on Pinta Island, but then the people might spot me. Plus it would take me so long that I might not make it by day 40,” Stella said spiraling deeper into despair.
Thinking on my feet of how to support her, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I have to swim almost 200 miles myself,” I said, exaggerating the truth. “I’m like a 200-pound rock, and I really can’t swim, but I have to find a way. If a nearly 200 pound, sinking tortoise can make it almost 200 miles, then a big seafaring creature like yourself can do it.”
“What?! You have to swim. I thought tortoises can’t swim,” she said milling over my previous statement.
“I can’t swim at all. That’s what’s funny about it. But I have to and so do you, Stella,” I said forcing a laugh.
“So Stella we both have a big, impossible adventure ahead of us. We can do this together. I promise to help you out as much as I can. I don’t think either of us has any desire to swim across open water in the dark, so why don’t we do this; let’s go to sleep, rest up, eat a good breakfast and get started tomorrow. Let’s hear some more of that positive talking that we started tonight’s conversation with. Okay? Things are going to be great Stella, and I know that you’ll do a ‘stellar’ job,” I said trying to reassure her.
“Good night George and thanks,” the sea cow said with a hint of confidence in her voice.
“Good night Stella,” I said, yawning.
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