Hello again, dear Blog readers! Thank you very much to all who sent me good wishes after my unexpected fall last week. I was thrilled to hear from friends in so many different parts of the world! I am feeling much better now that my black eyes are turning purple and yellow and my nose is no longer blood red... I am also grateful to the Red Cross for the phone calls to check that I am slowly recovering and to offer further help.
Why the italics? you may be wondering. Well, when wonderful Nurse Bates (daughter Linda) swiftly arrived from Edinburgh after my accident, she brought me this get-well card which combines the two: Red Cross and its two slow tortoises!
I laughed when I saw how appropriate the card was, remembering also our two pet tortoises, Timmy and Aristurtle, about whom I once wrote the following true story.
Tortoise Telepathy
It was a bad time of year for tortoises – early October.
Their natural instinct is to close down their bodily functions in readiness for
hibernation. During the day, however,
the weather can be warm enough to keep them active. But at night, if they are still out in the
open, a sudden frost can prove fatal.
That Saturday we had brought Timmy and Aristurtle in from
the cold, with the intention of packing them safely into their winter shelter:
a sturdy old wooden drawer, full of crumpled newspaper and straw. That was located in the garden hut, where
they had survived four previous winters.
When I came home that afternoon I found the two of them
resting near the fireguard in front of the coal fire. All was quiet. My husband, Bob, and our three children were
out. Tired after my shopping expedition,
I decided that I too would have a rest. I stretched out on the carpet, lying on my
stomach in the “recovery position”, my right arm straight and pointing behind
me, my left arm bent, with the hand pointing forwards. I was now on eye level with the tortoises,
about three metres away from them.
Suddenly I remembered a TV programme featuring Barbara
Woodhouse, the famous trainer of dogs and horses. She had talked about telepathic communication
with dogs. “If you are thinking about
taking the dog out for a walk, but instead of the usual word “Walkies!” (!) you
say a totally different word - “Carrot” or “Onion”, for example - the dog will
still understand and run to the door. He
knows your intention telepathically. You
don’t need to say anything at all.”
“I wonder if telepathy works with tortoises!” I thought. I
fixed my eyes on them and issued the silent command “Come here!”
Timmy just kept staring at the fire, but Aristurtle, the
bigger of the two, turned around and slowly, slowly, slowly made his way across
the carpet towards me. I remember how,
as he trundled past the window he looked up at it, and the late afternoon light
was reflected beautifully in his ancient reptile eyes. When he finally reached me, he made for the
crook of my left arm, and laid his cold little head against my warm forearm.
It was pure magic! I
didn’t dare move for fear of bringing this precious contact to an end. We stayed together, motionless, for about ten
minutes. Finally, to my regret, I just
had to stand up and go into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal.
A few days later, when the weather had turned colder, we
tucked Timmy and Aristurtle into their cosy drawer in the garden hut. Alas! That winter was exceptionally cold, and
they did not survive. We read in the
newspapers that many other pet tortoises had died, including the famous one on
Blue Peter, a popular children’s TV programme.
Years later I was at a conference where one of the speakers
was Dr Rupert Sheldrake, on the topic of telepathic communication with
animals. When I told him about my
precious experience with Aristurtle he replied that he would like to try an
experiment with him. But alas, it was
too late!
Now this
substitute in my garden is a reminder of our two beloved pets …
