Zoe poked her snout at a rounded “object” sitting in the middle of our backyard. I walked over to check out her discovery, which then retracted its legs and tiny tail. I stopped. “Zoe, it’s a tortoise!” I exclaimed. Or was it a turtle? I can never remember the difference.
Now, our sweet — but neurotic — border collie acted both curious and concerned. She lowered her head back down at the shell and then danced backwards, much like a prizefighter staying just out of reach of an opponent, warily eyeing her find but not daring to turn her back on it. Zoe knew some living thing inhabited this “object,” but she had no idea where that living thing had gone, or how to get to it. After a few more moments of canine investigation, I lured Zoe away with a reminder that breakfast was waiting back inside the house.
Friday morning’s discovery of a wandering reptile was a fitting end to a week of animal encounters, helping me regain some perspective on our ever increasingly scary and unpredictable society. Animals — large and small, wild or domesticated — represent the good in this world and their “spirit” can teach us how to cope when it seems almost impossible to do so. Animals adapt and persevere despite the challenges posed by nature and problems created by humankind. National politics, regional weather disasters, and, sadly, a shocking jury verdict here in Memphis had caused me to turn inward and to try my best to lower the volume on all that external noise. Some of that clatter continued to seep through, however, causing me additional worry and heartache. That’s why those encounters were so important — providing a fresh perspective while urging me to “keep the faith!”
Earlier in the week, Vicki and I took advantage of Tennessee Tuesday at the Memphis Zoo — free admission after 2 p.m. for all Tennessee residents. Vicki hadn’t visited the zoo in ages, and I hadn’t been there in nearly two years. Like most zoo visitors, we started in Cat Country, marveled at the huge felines, and then wound our way past those “silly penguins” (as Vicki calls them), who patrolled the waters of Penguin Rock. We ended up at Once Upon a Farm, where, years ago, we’d take our kids to see the goats and the chickens, and, of course, ride the old-fashioned train.
Moving through the zoo reminded me how much joy and wonder these animals bring to children and to adults. We overheard lots of calling out and laughter, along with clomping feet, as kids of varying ages scampered from one enclosure to the next. The zoo allows you to focus on animals and the natural world and to tune out (even for a little while) the outside “noise” of humanity. We stopped by the China exhibit, which is now home to the red pandas — one of Vicki’s favorites — along with two Asian clouded leopards. The highlight of our zoo adventure happened at the Teton Trek exhibit when the timber wolves — four siblings that are around 2 years old — put on a howl fest for the guests. Now I was full of wonder and joy watching this familial foursome yowl and yap at one another — something I’d never seen live. Incredible.
As the week wore on, that joy and wonder slowly evaporated. The jury verdict along with the ongoing idiocy in Washington battered my perspective much like all those May rain storms did to the Mid-South. Then “Momma” showed up on our front porch late Thursday afternoon. Momma is the last remaining feline roamer in our neighborhood. She hangs out mostly across the street but knows that I’m her human food source — twice a day, seven days a week. Momma is one of the sweetest creatures you’ll ever meet, and during our late afternoon “porch party,” I slowly relaxed and simply enjoyed the moment with Momma.
She ate while keeping an eye on her surroundings. Momma was content but on guard. There’s a certain simplicity to her world. She has adapted to her circumstances and maintains an awareness of potential dangers, yet Momma survives day in and day out. She endures.
Most importantly, Momma appears to be at peace. Maybe that’s the lesson to be learned from Momma and all those other wonderful creatures — strength and perseverance come from within, and to endure, we must “keep the faith” in the face of adversity.
We learned that our reptilian vagabond was a box turtle that I named Tobias and shortened to Toby. After feeding Zoe and refilling Momma’s food bowl, I returned to the backyard to check on Toby. Motoring along in the grass, Toby headed to the far end of our yard. Watching Toby do what turtles do — survive, persevere, endure — I felt at peace, my perspective restored.
Ken Billett is a freelance writer and short-story fiction author. He and his wife, Vicki, have called Memphis home for over 35 years. When not listening to blues music, Ken reads spy novels and tends to his flowers.
