It
had to be done.
On
Monday I moved our female turtle, Molly, into her own house. The amazing habitat my husband built just
wasn’t big enough for two anymore. Ever since Molly came out of hibernation,
Roger has made the poor girl’s existence a nightmare. If she so much as pokes
her face out of the substrate, he thinks it’s time for some lovin’.
She
wasn’t eating or bathing. She wouldn’t even come out from under her rock. Poor
thing needed some intervention.
So
I fixed up a plastic crate with rocks, wood chips, a private bath and a
flower-festooned clay hut. Then I transferred Molly to her new digs. She loves
it! Now she comes out, eats, and tootles around her home.
The
only problem is, I had to put Molly’s house inside the bigger habitat so she’d
get the light and heat she needs from the special lamps. Since her new home is
clear plastic, Roger can still see the object of his affection.
He
crawls along the edge like a lovesick peeping tom, clawing at the plastic. I
think if he could howl, he would. I’m hoping time will calm his wild turtle
urges, but until then it’s bachelorhood for Roger.
The
thing is, I know how he feels. And I’m not referring to spring time friskiness. (We won’t go there.) I know what it’s like to
see the thing I want yet be blocked by a barrier I don’t understand. I see my
goal of publication and I scratch away, trying to move toward it, and I think, “Why
can’t I get there? Why can’t I have that?”
Poor
Roger and me. We need a distraction. We need to appreciate the stuff we have.
Maybe we should take up a hobby. What if I dipped him in paint and let him
crawl over a canvas? That would keep us both occupied for a while, and maybe
Turtle Art would be the next big thing.
Anyone
else out their frustrated? What’s the goal you can see but just can’t get to?
And
how much would you pay for art created by a licentious turtle?
