The Song of the Turtle 

  

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, 

and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. 

            — Song of Solomon 2:12  

  

            Here's what I wish for children as this school year opens: 

  

            Learning that's unexpected, spontaneous, free-flowing . . . and fun. 

  

            We learned how important that is from a turtle named Louisa. 

  

It all started when my husband was walking in his office parking lot and a green rock moved. Intrepid explorer that he is, he picked it up. That was no rock: that was a turtle. 

  

              

 

  

BB-gun dings were apparent in the turtle's shell. It seemed distressed. If he left it there in that industrial area, it would likely get pancaked by a semi. 

  

            So he brought the turtle home. We set up a temporary habitat in an old plastic wading pool, pleased that the pool's decorations were such a great fit: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. 

   

            Fascinated by this up-close-and-personal encounter with wildlife, the kids fed their curiosity about turtles, going far beyond any school assignment. 

  

            They surfed the 'Net for turtle sites. We went to the library and checked out books on reptiles and turtles. We talked to a pet store guy. A local nature center put us in touch with a wildlife rescue team, and a bunch of us went out there to meet the Turtle Guru. 

  

            She nursed sick birds back to health, trained squirrels without tails how to move from branch to branch, and had already rescued a herd of little yertles like our turtle. She taught us a lot, and referred us to a veterinarian for more. We learned: 

  

            — We had found a Southern box turtle, hundreds of miles north of her native habitat. If we released her around Omaha, she'd probably freeze to death in the winter. 

  

            — She was a female, so we named her "Louisa," since my husband's childhood pet turtle had been named "Louie." 

  

            — She was a couple of years old, with a life expectancy of 30 years. 

  

            — Based on the distance from her native habitat, the BB dings and her drab coloring, she was a malnourished, neglected pet who had been "dumped." She needed turtle TLC, ASAP. 

  

            So the kids built a more suitable habitat for her, a big, screened box. It had a reptile light with just the right wattage and a shallow water basin at just the right angle for quick dips. 

  

            They built a chicken wire enclosure outside, "Spa Louisa," for her daily sunbaths. 

  

            They talked to a family friend who was born with a learning disability, and got low grades in school, but he had an amazing, encyclopedic knowledge about turtles, so he schooled us, and that was good for both families, too. 

  

We shopped for the finest nutritious romaine. No plain iceberg lettuce for Louisa! We served up sliced cantaloupe and slivers of luscious tomato. 

  

            At the pet store, we bought crickets at eight cents apiece and broke their legs so they'd be easier for her to catch. The things we do for love! We were proud of her head-jabs when she "hunted." 

  

            We bought her mealworms, loved watching her slurp them up like strands of spaghetti, and kept confusing the containers of Louisa's mealworms with our own leftovers in the fridge. 

  

            To our delight, orange and yellow spots gradually appeared on her shell and legs.  

  

            Look: she has five toes in front, and three in back. Hmm. Wonder why. For digging? 

  

And then one day we heard a musical little rasp. We were thrilled to hear her voice. Turtles can sing? Magical! Who knew? Yeah, well: who was listening, before? 

  

            Funny: the TV sat idle, those weeks. We were too busy learning from Louisa. The kids shared her with their classes. Everybody gained. 

  

            Then, as if on cue, my husband and I got invited to a weekend at the Lake of the Ozarks. It was within her normal range of liveable habitat. 

  

"Hooray!" our girls rejoiced. "Now Louisa can go free, get married and be a mom!" 

  

            So we took her down there with us, rigged up a funny little wedding veil, and let her go in a likely spot. The bride wore green, with orange and yellow spots.  

  

            Louisa, wherever you are, thank you. You taught us well. We're glad you're free. 

  

            If only school could be like that all the time: full of wonder, freedom and peace, with no bureaucracy, no big expenses, no constant pressure about standardized tests, no big politicized hubbubs. 

  

We got a taste of what homeschooling must be like: learning at your own pace, even if it's as slow as a turtle's, so you won't miss the delights and rewards of the unexpected. 

  

            Children need a chance to listen for the song of the turtle . . . and see where it leads. †