Tyler the Tortoise – Part 1

Before we get specific, let me give you a few details about desert tortoises – that’s the group Tyler comes from.

Desert tortoises are native to the Sonoran and Mojave deserts, where they spend about 95% percent of their lives in a burrow in order to avoid the extreme temperature changes and hide from predators. They are very vulnerable from the time they hatch until their shells harden, which can be as long as six years. They reach maturity at between 12-20 years of age … the males take longer to mature than females.

Now about Tyler. He’s been living with us for about 33 years. We got him from my oldest brother and his family when they moved. The new place didn’t have a fenced backyard so they couldn’t take him. My brother got him from their next-door neighbor and nobody can remember how long they’d had him. But, since he was an adult when the neighbors got him, using the information above, we can estimate that he’s at least 57 years old. Let’s just say, he’s an old dude. Since they can live for about one hundred years in managed care, there’s a large possibility that he’s a good bit more advanced in age than that.

Desert tortoises for the most part are very non-aggressive animals except during breeding season. Most of the time they just plod through their days and only tuck into their shells when they feel threatened. Which is one of the reasons their numbers in the wild steadily declined year after year; it was just so easy to pick them up, put them in the back of your car and take them home with you. That is now highly illegal in the United States; in fact, if you have one in captivity in California, you have to have an official license with the Fish and Game Department. When we discovered that, we applied for one, and since we were able to prove at least a portion of the time he’d been in captivity, we were granted a license for him. So, he’s completely legal – in fact, he has his very own little tag that looks like a license plate. You’re supposed to affix it to their shell since it’s a decal, but knowing how rough Tyler is on his shell, we decided it was safer to keep it in a file.

Some of you might be thinking, “Well, if their numbers were declining in the wild, why didn’t they just confiscate them and re-release them?” It’s a reasonable question … but there were problems with that solution. It seems that in captivity, many of them lose their ability to fend for themselves in the wild. They can also pick up diseases that can spread rapidly through the wild population. So, the general rule is if you have a desert tortoise that you can no longer care for, and you can’t find it a new, responsible owner, please take it to a tortoise rescue instead of driving it out to the desert and letting it go.

Now about Tyler – he takes the natural mellowness of his breed to a whole new level. While most of them will immediately draw into their shell when they are picked up and stay there until they’re set back down, Tyler will draw in, but only for a few seconds. As soon as he feels somewhat stable, he will not only poke his head back out … but all four legs will be relaxed and dangling below him. I can pick him up, rest the side of his shell against my hip and walk with him and he’s quite happy to literally “hang out” and watch the world go by.

When I began doing native California wildlife presentations for schools, scouts and community clubs, Tyler was a huge hit with everyone. He’s completely non-threatening and very few people were intimidated by him. If I was doing a classroom presentation, we’d take the children outside, set them down in a circle and put Tyler down in the middle. I’d bring a supply of roses or hibiscus flowers with me and I could place them about a foot in front of the kids, spacing them at about one every fifth child. Before doing that, I’d explain to the kids that they were allowed to touch Tyler’s shell or feet when he was in front of them, but they needed to use just two fingers and not reach toward his head. Most of the time Tyler would simply wander from flower to flower, pretty much ignoring, or maybe completely unaware of, the curious eyes and fingers of the children.

What’s the first lesson I can take from my buddy, Tyler? His ability to trust. When I pick him up and rest him on my hip, he’s hanging about eight tortoise heights above the ground and his feet are not touching anything. Aren’t there times in your life when it seems you’re dangling above solid ground? I know there have been, and still are, those seasons in mine. But, resting there on my hip, Tyler is totally relaxed, secure in the belief that I’ve got him. Yes, I’ve never dropped him … but, oh, that I could trust God to carry me with the same unshakeable faith Tyler seems to have in me. After all – God is holding me in his hand and he has never dropped me yet.