The first thing that we learned in the world of Herpetology, is that they are not to be called turtles.
“Turtles,” my brother proudly told us as we stared at the baby Galapagos tortoise meandering in front of us through the back yard “Are reserved for animals who swim. Tortoise,” he added with extra emphasis gesturing to the giant in front of us who was currently devouring a strawberry, “Is reserved for animals of the shelled variety, on land.”
Or something like that. I just know that in my memory, my brother was wearing a mesh Boy Scouts hat that sat hugely atop his head and bobbled when he said the aforementioned sentences, even though I’m 99.9 percent sure that’s not how it went down. The story just sounds better when it starts out that way, and I’m too lazy to look up the actual definition after all this time.
My dad and brother had decided to attend a Herpetology event in Florida, and after that, much to my mother’s dismay, our animal collection started to grow.
Her hard limit was definitely snakes, though I’m sure my dad mentioned the possibility, more than once.
I believe there were twelve tortoise couples, in total. From Rhett and Scarlett to Lucy and Desi, they were all named after famous couples, and we even successfully hatched a baby from an egg. Throw in two parrots, who could call our dad from one side of the house in my mother’s voice, and my mom in my dad’s voice… and we had the equivalent to two confused parents passing through the living room, looking for each other. Three leopard geckos {one of them living to the ripe age of nearly twenty} a rescued squirrel that fell out of a tree in hurricane Opal and brought to us by neighbors who figured we’d know what to do with him (he was my favorite), and a gold fish I won at the local fair. Goober the goldfish lived for over five years. I’m not fresh on my goldfish knowledge, but that seems like a nice lifespan for a fish. When he died, there was no flushing of that fish. He had a proper burial and special words. I cried over the fish.
We had quite the neighborhood menagerie. We were the regular family zoo. The one the neighborhood kids stopped by for showings to visit their favorites, and learned with wide-eyed parents who probably thought we were crazy, all about animals.
I learned very early on not to wear pink, red, orange, or anything-of-that-variety toenail polish with flip flops in the back yard. The usually sweet and docile tortoises would chase you around biting your toes, in hopes that you were a strawberry. And when my friend came to pick me up for a homecoming date in high school, my dad happily pulled him into the kitchen and showed him the hairless baby squirrel napping under a warm lamp where we nursed him back to health. I probably should have been embarrassed, and I’m sure I pretended to roll my eyes. But we all knew it was kind of awesome.
When I tell current friends about it now, they don’t believe me. It takes some major explaining, with lots of laughter, especially with some of the stories that ensue. I’m not sure I look like I was raised in a zoo, though I’m pretty sure those people who were raised in one, don’t look it either. Thus my confusion at their confusion. We were like sophisticated Alabamian rednecks with all the animals, if such a thing exists. It was definitely an interesting combo, and all our neighbors probably thought we were crazy.
But my high school friends remember it like this:
My brother, sister and I all learned so much about animals and looking back, it was really a great thing to do as a family. Maybe it’s where my sense of fun and adventure come from with our own kids, now. I think at least one of our parents secretly hoped we might end up as veterinarians, as a result.
All of us are anything but, though we have been known to rescue wild abandoned baby turkeys, save the tortoise walking across the road, and adopt rescue pups on more than one occasion. {See: Chloe, Rigby and Fitz.} It’s a love you carry for life.
It was a muggy Alabama summer after my freshman year of college, and I was home from Auburn. I knew him in real life, from afar. We’d already met that previous Fall, but he hadn’t been on my radar, so to speak. He was four years my senior, graduating, and really, really cute. The painfully cute kind you don’t want to be emotionally invested in, because he might not like you back and he was, well, graduating.
That guy, who happened to hop on AOL instant messenger after I waited in my dad’s office at night through the loud and obnoxious SKWEEEERRRRRTTTTT SKWEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRTTTT {before I realized I needed to turn down the speakers} to talk to friends, was Jamin Mills. It was the novelty days of static dial ups, after all.
I thought we were just friends at the time. After nearly eighteen years of dating and marriage, he recently confessed to me that he would sit in his room with his AOL up and running, waiting for me to join. {Cyber stalking is hawt.} He thought I was funny. I thought he was clever. My entire freshman year, the guy I thought was super cute, felt the same, and neither one of us realized it just yet.
The things you learn.
So I’m not really sure how the conversation went, but I invited him over {maybe he invited himself?} to wash our cars. I mean, duh. Cute guy = car wash. Which turned into playing Matchbox 20 really loudly in his speakers, and a water fight with lots of flirting. I mean, it was your basic scene from all those cheesy high school 1999ish movies we all loved to watch.
I’m sure my neighbors loved us.
I think I realized halfway in between soaping down the exterior and splashing him in the face, that I really kind of liked Jamin Mills. So after we were cleaned up and dried off a little, I invited him to sit on the back porch and drink a little lemonade.
I think I’d mentioned that we had a lot of pets, and he saw a few meandering about. I’m sure I pointed them out, and introduced all the appropriate parties to one another. It was muggy and hot, and our clothes were drying out while we were in mid-conversation about who-knows-what.
That was when the faint sound right underneath the deck, where our tortoises liked to cool on a hot summer day, started to grow.
At first, I tried to cover it, by scooting in my chair.
I think I probably cleared my throat, and coughed a few times.
I raised my voice and sing-songed my inflections in a really long story via desperate effort to fight the rhythmic grunts.
I mean, seriously. Did this have to happen right now?!
But there was no fighting it. The sound was so loud, I finally gave up, and started to laugh, awkwardly.
The nineteen year old me was absolutely mortified, and my eyes grew wide with apprehension when I watched the sound register with Jamin’s ears, as well. Imagine my immense dismay when there we were, mid-conversation, and the mating huffs of two African Spurs drifted from underneath us, right where we sat.
Ahhhh, nature.
A small family zoo in the back yard definitely had its pros as a kid. Most of them, I mentioned above.
But for a soon-to-be-sophomore year college girl, the copulating of two tortoises underneath her family deck while she carried on small talk with her maybe-crush-really-just-friends-guy-she’d-probably-very-much-like-to-kiss, was absolutely mortifying.
Looking back, I think we both just laughed. He had one of those sideways smirks that made him even cuter, and I threw up in my mouth a little from sheer reflux and anxiety because I was totally smooth like that. Mortified, I tell you.
I mean, what can you do? I think I ushered him hastily to the other side of the yard so we didn’t have to stay in their company. When I remembered the story the other day and asked him if he remembers, he claims that I was sending him subliminal messages.
Good one, Jamin.
Either way it was a moment we’ll never forget:
The birds and the bees and, well, turtle love.
Belinda Aguirre says
I love this story, especially the end with the turtles under the deck. what a neat memory. thanks for sharing with us!
Jenna says
This is hysterical! Such a funny story
Layla K says
I’m dead. This has by far got to be one of the funniest stories ever. Thank you once again, as always, for sharing!
Janna says
When are you writing your book?! I must know these things! Love the story. You’re so funny!
Kathy says
Where do I get the rest of the story? Does it end with “our animal collection started to grow”?
ashley @ the handmade home says
Can you not see it? If you scroll down it should be there? If it’s disappeared please let us know! We like this story ;}
Jenny B. says
Oh my! I have heard that sound (at a zoo you pay to go to), and it IS loud — and very hard to not laugh at. 🙂 So cool about your family and all the animals. Your parents sound fun, but my kids would run away from their house screaming. I don’t know where I went wrong (we had two dogs when they were younger?), but they are all SO scared of basically any kind of living creature. My middle is afraid of butterflies. Not joking. Anyway… thanks for sharing a fun story! 🙂
K. Hightower says
You’re soooooo HI-larious! Every time I read one of your posts I laugh so hard.. Thank you for being you!