Betrayal

⏹ Not for sensitive readers.  I am banging this blog out on a Sunday morning because the words are tumbling inside me and curdling my sense of peace.  Betrayal is a strong word, but it sums up what I have been feeling the past few days.

Speedy attacked Tolstoy with an intent to kill.  (For any new readers to this blog, I am referring to two of the free range tortoises that allow us to live in the house in their garden.).  It was Friday morning, and TD was taking a study break (chemistry this time) and wandering around the garden.  I heard anguished cries which got more and more desperate sounding.  TD was standing with tiny Tolstoy in her hand, tears streaming down her cheek.  He looked limp, with his head lolling to one side.  She choked out what she had found - the older, larger tortoise, Speedy, had turned Tolstoy on his back, and was biting at his neck.  The strong beak had bitten the eye and mouth and both looked beyond healing.  The immediate action was clear.  I gently held Tolstoy, and TD put a very angry Speedy in a confined space.  She put him in her fenced off veggie patch.  

Poor little Tolstoy.  Poor TD.  Both needed a lot of calming, and soothing before we could even assess the damage.  The swollen face and offset jaw and damaged neck didn't give us much hope for his survival. But he pulled through.  The eye is still too swollen to see if he will have sight again, and the jaw seems to be healing.  We made a "nest"  home for him in a cardboard box, and brought him inside to watch over him. Over the weekend, TD upgraded his home to a larger wooden crate that she made, and put some homely plants and gravel in it.  This tortoise is going to need intensive  care for a while still.

Tolstoy in the ICU TD made

Initially all TD could feel towards Speedy was Anger with a capital A.  I think the feeling was mutual.  Speedy ripped up the herbs in her garden, and trampled the leeks.  Too angry to look at him, we left him there overnight and concentrated on helping Tolstoy.  On Saturday morning, I prepared a portion of the garden for Speedy to live in by himself.

TD and I agreed that this incident was raw nature.  We tend to personify things some times - Speedy was obeying some natural instinct to defend territory, or assert dominance. But it felt like a betrayal.  What if TD hadn't been there at the right moment?  What if Tolstoy never completely recovers?  The garden, which has recently brought us so much pleasure, went gray in a mist of the betrayal of nature.

I reacted strongly too.  I felt broken.  This beautiful creature was damaged by a phenomenon of nature under my watch.  I hadn't picked up any signs or been quick enough to avoid the damage.  I felt drained.  But as with all crises, one copes and deals with circumstances to stabilize the situation.  The recrimination comes later.  The what ifs.  The anger.  The acceptance that there is no fault to assign.  The "we can live with this" attitude, and Gratitude for life.  Diabetes feels like a betrayal.  One expects a body to function properly, and out of nowhere, suddenly it attacks.  Nature can be so cruel. But we learn to trust again, to accept, to be grateful.   Tolstoy survived.  TD survived.  We will be OK.

 

Speedy's new garden of isolation.