The Princess and Me
by Richard Oram
People give me turtles, most
often Red Eared Sliders. So happened last October, as a referral from the
Nature Center which doesn't want them. Sliders are by far the most common
turtles in the US; they are the old Woolworth's and ones-you-can-now-get- in
Chinatown kind. They are not native to the northeast so the Nature Center,
eschewing invasive species as they do, refers people who lose interest in their
pet turtles to me.
About October 15 a lady calls and
then brings a Slider, a nice big one, perhaps 15-20 years old. Who knows how
long it had been captive, likely its entire life. My outside turtles, as opposed to the small
inside ones, of course, live in an enclosure until it gets too cold. (The
"turtle pen" wasn't designed right... not deep enough for hibernation
as we learned in a very unfortunate way, and that's all I'll say about that.)
So this new "Big Guy"
joined the other six, and it being chilly October, they all begin the
hibernation thing; at that point it's just that they are relatively inactive,
popping up from the water only on warmer days, not eating anymore, kind of
packing up for the winter. By late November I drain the water and carefully
poke around to get them out. All seven were there, all fine it seemed. They
then winter in an enormous tub in the garage, where it stays 40 degrees or so,
happy as clams if you will, year after year, coming up on 10 years now.
In March on a nice day the garage
tub gets drained and out they come. My
ritual is to place them all in a corner of the pen and watch as one then the
next and the next decide that it's safe to do more than sleepily poke a head
out of its shell. Before long they have all
plopped into the water, and basically hit the snooze button -- the water is
still cold, like November, so I don't expect them to show themselves again
until April.
So it's April. The best spring day yet always enables an
inventory, as it did this year. But that
Big Guy was sluggish, like barely getting himself to a rock and the sun,
whereas all the others were basking as if it was Miami Beach. He wasn’t swimming and floated in a strange
way. I had increasing concern.
As with other sickies, I activate
the hospital tank where the water is warmed with a heat lamp… like summer time
when the basking is easy. He seemed to like
that but sure didn't look good. His head
was drooping onto the rock, his "lips" were ghoulish black, and I
honestly thought he was not going to make it.
Turtles are really hardy though, and the biggest threat to captive ones
is just not being taken to the vet soon enough when they are sick. I learned
that, sadly. So I put the poor thing into a bucket and off to the vet we went;
that was Friday.
First thing she said was Big Guy
was female. While we talked turtle for a while, the visit was really just an
exam and her specific advice was just to heat her up more, so I used the
aquarium heater from the baby turtle tank to raise the hospital tank water to
80 degrees. But “heat her and call me in the morning” didn’t make me confident that
we’d have a quick turnaround, and as other vets had given my sick turtles
xrays, I knowed-it-all (the internet is never wrong) and went back to the vet
on Saturday. She was admitted for overnight observation and
tests.
While the situation was grave,
when checking her in there was some joking about her need for a new name: Big Guy wasn’t right for a female so we
renamed her Princess, given that she needs such special attention.
The next day the vet reports that
she took x-rays, which showed no infection or congestion. She also gave her vitamins, and when I
arrived to take Princess home, the vet provided me with a powder that I had to mix
with water to make into a pancake-like goo to put in a plastic syringe to feed
her. And she needed more heat. So
in addition to the basking lamp, the heater went to the max, making the water about
90 degrees.
I
also covered the tank to keep more heat and humidity in, and put a light bulb
under the rocks making it like a sauna. With
the heat, light and humidity, the hospital tank became an ICU. I was hopeful
that we had the right protocol, and the vet and I agreed that the big hurdle was
to get her eating. But the pancake stuff wasn’t to her liking, not at all; she’d
hiss, snap at the syringe as it got close, and retreat into her shell when her
attack failed.
She’d
also pee—that seems to be a last defense:
if a turtle gets picked up by a raccoon for example, the pee is supposed
to make the attacker change its mind. So
this seemed really torturous but actually, it was good that she’d do the
defense stuff, as otherwise there really wasn’t much life in her. When I’d finally
put the goo in her mouth, she’d get really upset and start clawing, i.e.,
abandon the retreat defensive mode and basically freak out – ever seen a turtle
gag?
Most
of the goo would just squish out of her mouth.
After a few days of at best very limited success with the syringe
feeding, I thought maybe she’d go for some turkey, but that didn’t appeal
either. (Aside: when I was buying the turkey,
looking at the “ends” section, I overheard a lady saying to her husband, “The
turtles will like this” which of course led to conversation and soon after
their visiting me, but that’s another story.)
With no evident progress or cooperation from Princess, I
decided to be more aggressive. I reverted to the goo and syringe but came at it
from a different angle. I held her upright and then squished the goo into her
mouth, letting gravity help. It looked like water boarding and she liked it even
less. I felt bad even knowing I might be helping her, but it seemed like
desperate times calling for desperate measures. I continued this for a few
days.
In the same time I got an infrared bulb (IVB) that is
recommended for reptiles kept indoors, because they really do need sunlight and
vitamin D. Basking isn’t just about
heat. It’s likely that Princess, in her earlier captive life, had a vitamin
deficiency; even if a turtle is near a window it doesn’t get the infrared rays
because the glass screens it out. Most people have no idea what they really
need.
Yes! She began to
perk up in a couple days. Was it the heat,
IV light, humidity, vet’s vitamins or the feeding? I think it was the feeding, but whatever, we
were making progress. After 3 or 4 more
days, the next phase was to get off the goo, which I imagine she appreciated,
especially because I began to feed her shrimp.
She was tentative about it at the start, she was very timid and still is
skittish, but a couple days of shrimping and she was a new woman. Trying to be
cute I got her to take the shrimp from my hand; “I can even get a princess to
eat out of my hand,” I said with pride. Real pride… I was really proud that I seemed
to have saved Princess.
Her black lips were gone, she’d bask with her head up, and
bask less. I made the water deeper to force her to swim more, and she was good
with that. When the shrimp ran out I got more (we had shrimp for dinner twice
that week, a lunch too), but the next step was to transition her back to turtle
food. I had a fresh can and without a
pause she started eating that. While you’re only supposed to feed turtles twice
a week, she’s chowing every day. Last night she got some salmon. A bit curious
is that there’s yet to be much poop in the tank, but I guess that will come in
good time and I’m not impatient for that. But everything about her looks great
now.
A next step is to re-socialize her. That could have issues
too as she probably lived alone for many years.
Maybe that played in to her recent issues… not playing well with others.
On the vet’s advice I’m leaving her in the hospital until it gets quite warm
outside, i.e., avoid another harsh transition. But I’m thinking about having a
visitor, maybe supervised visitation by a couple of the babies because even one
more big one in the hospital, despite it being a 40 gallon tank, would make it too
crowded and stressful. They are social creatures; a sickie a few years ago –
Tortellini – got a lot better when we brought in a friend. Turtles get depressed?
I’ll say this as a conclusion: “Who knew?” or “You never know.”
That is, when a new pet comes you just don’t know their
history. It’s an adoption as opposed to a birth. But a good assumption is that they haven’t
been cared for well. Another tangent is that this year, with the help of my
turtle friends from the turkey department, there’s a turtle egg gestating
outside. I’m not optimistic but maybe next year Princess will do me a good turn
and, well, getting captive turtles to successfully breed is a challenge;
hatchlings are the Holy Grail.
So there you go, Princess and me. Spring 2013, the year of
the Princess. Love conquers all.
