Tales of Terry 1 (part 2)

    He sighed. This was not the best position for a tortoise to find himself. Terry blinked and wiggled his paws. First the front pair and then the back pair.
Ohhh, fiddle de sticks!
He tried shifting his weight from one side to the other. The world rocked backwards and forwards and Terry felt dizzy.
Then sick.
Oh dear, oh dear!
He should not have eaten that jam butty so quickly! The swaying motion slowed, but Terry was still unhappy.
As he feared, he had turned a somersault  as he crashed through the door and landed on his back. He wiggled his paws again, then stopped as the rocking motion began again.
Oh dear, oh dear!
          What a ridiculous position to be in! His first day of freedom and here he was stranded, as helpless as a jelly baby!
Terry closed his eyes to concentrate and immediately felt better. He didn't feel upside down; perhaps he wasn't. Not really.
     Slowly he opened one eye and quickly closed it again. Yes, he was definitely upside down. So, how to get upright?
     He tried to remember other times when he had been in this undignified position. What had happened then?
In his minds eye, Terry could see himself on his back and a small pair of hands carefully turning him over. Another time a large hairy hand turned him over. Or another hand had helped him. Always a Human friend had been there to reverse him - and he had run away from the Humans, from those who had looked after him.
He began to feel sad and to wish he was still in the Yard or the Garden and then he would only have to wait until the Little Lady came out with the promised piece of lettuce and she would set him the right way up. He felt tears in his eyes, tears of self pity and frustration.
Then he shouted at himself for being so helpless, blinking away the tears. this was being silly and if he cried when he was upside down, the water would go in to his ears, making them all wet - and the Little Lady had washed them thoroughly only that spring. who needs ears washed more than once a year?
               Terry took a cautious look round to see if there was anything on two legs who might help and then realised he would have to start helping himself. If he was going to have adventures the he must learn how to look after himself.
Starting now.
Hi shell was round (not pointy-lumpy like some tortoises) and it was tough. All that bashing at the gate had not hurt a bit and if he wiggled his paws, first one side then the other, he would swing from side to side.. From left to right. If he swung enough, perhaps he would......?
           With a deep breath (and closed eyes) Terry began to swing. only gently at first, but then faster and faster. He began to feel sick again but decided no to stop. If he did, he would only have to start all over again. It was better to carry on and get the nasty bit over. Then the really exciting things could begin. All those adventures he was going to have!
           Bravely he concentrated on all the wonderful things he would do, once his feet were firmly on the floor again.
           To and fro, to and fro. Faster and faster. Just a little more. Just push a little more. To and fro, to and fro. His shell was pitching from left to right. The edges of his shell were now touching the ground, side to side. More effort. Just a bit more push to rock over the edge and on to his front.
Tightly he closed his eyelids and clamped his mouth so hard shut, it hurt. One more push, one more and..... Smack!
The pale underside of his shell hit the stone floor with a thump that shook his insides and made his toes tingle. Shuddering, he jerked everything in to his shell with fright and lay there, heart thumping.
           Slowly, Terry calmed down and dared to stretch his head tentatively from the protection of his shell. His feet then followed and he wiggled everything in turn. Head, tail, front paws (right, then left), back paws (left, then right). Yes, they all still work! he thought in surprise.
True, everything also ached but nothing was broken.
        He stopped for a moment. Perhaps ....... perhaps his shell was cracked.
Or perhaps not
He shook his head. Well, it wasn't serious anyway, no reason to postpone his departure.
         Terry stood for a moment, still facing the black wall. Another decision - left or right? Which way? Thoughtfully, a right foot moved first and he turned slowly round to the right. A long, dark, narrow alley loomed and he blinked. Was it dark because he had spent so much time on his back that another day was almost over?
Did it matter?
A moments thought and Terry decided it did not and so began to walk purposefully towards the distant thumping, droning sounds he could just hear, somewhere out of sight.
Walking towards exciting times, he hoped.

                                                       **********************

"But what happened? Did you have adventures?"
"Of course he did! What we want to know is, what happened next?"
"Next was bedtime."
"But it's not time yet! There is still sunshine in the sky. Please!"
"Please!" went up the pleading refrain from infants  who hate to waste time on anything so boring as sleep. He sympathised but was firm as adults always are.
"Tomorrow. There will be time for stories tomorrow."
 

                                                *********************************

Terry awoke to the soothing stroking of his shell. Eyes closed, he tried to decide if it was a gentle Human or a not-so-gentle animal. Then he felt another striking on the other side of his shell, followed by a not-so-gentle attempt to pick him up. Human, definitely, but probably the youngest one. Thank goodness he had grown as he got older and his shell was now too large for little hands.
He poked his head out suddenly (boo!) and the child sat down in surprise.
"I am far too heavy for a little one like you, you know," he commented mildly. "If you really want to see what I look like, you should go and ask one of the Bigs. They will hold me so I will not get hurt and you can see."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
The child struggled to its feet and toddled off to find someone. Terry turned gently in its direction. Perhaps there would be one more in the audience next time. He had not noticed the child understanding the animals before. It was such a short stage, but a delightful one. They asked different kinds of questions, More inquisitive, searching.  Interesting questions that only Terry, who had been around Humans a long, long time would know how to answer. Too soon they learned to communicate with their own kind and forgot animalspeak.
     He sighed and settled back down in to sleep. All too soon the young ones would be here, gathering around, wanting to hear tales of times gone by. Their parents went off to do other things, find food, sleep or whatever and Terry was left in charge.
     he chuckled. The parents all thought he was too old to do anything else, but only he knew that it was not age that kept him in this Garden - just laziness. he was not old. How old was a tortoise?
It was like asking how old was the moon!
No-one knew for certain and he liked it that way. If you thought you were old, then you acted old. If you did not know, then you behaved the way you wanted to behave, do what you wanted to do.
And right now he wanted to behave lazily.
At least while the sun shone.

                                        ***********************************
   

Tales of Terry 1 (part 1)

"Once upon a time. Please! Once upon a time!"
Terry stretched in the warm afternoon sun and reluctantly opened one eye. There, in a semi-circle around him were an assortment of young animals, with one thing in common, a need to be entertained and he had been chosen for this daily ritual. Even a tiny Human had crawled over to the group, but he wouldn't stay long. They were too fidgety, these Humans. Staggering around on two legs, yet always wanting to go places, see things. Explore.
And then he chuckled to himself as his other eye slowly opened.
There was a time when he had been just as anxious to be off to new places.
A long time ago that was, of course. A long, long time ago.
" Once upon a time, please" they pestered, pleading for a story.
Yes, he had wanted to travel, once upon a time.
A long time ago.
He stretched out, yawning, slowly standing as high as his short legs would allow.
The young ones were quiet now, watching, knowing they had his attention but not sure if there would be a story or a grumbly dismissal. He blinked sternly and they held a collective breath. Of course they could always coax someone else to entertain them, but that would come a poor second best to a story from Terry.
    He was the oldest animal anyone knew. And that included the Humans! So old, he knew all sorts of exciting things. Like the Field of Food and Other Places and even how to move without using your legs! (which must be very important when you can not walk very fast.)
   Knowing that he now had their full attention, Terry settled back down on to his shell and cleared his throat. The youngsters crept forward a little and snuggled in to the sweet smelling grass.
Story Time was about to begin.

"Once upon a time there came a day that was very important. It was Moving Day, the first day of my Great Travels."
Terry half closed his eyes as he looked back over all those years and saw again that warm, fateful day.
"The day I decided to leave started like any other day. The yard and garden become clear and I can see again the details of My Place. The garden, the yard, the red doors in the edges and the top flat bit where the cats strolled, catching the early morning sun."
He sighed and closed his eyes as he remembered back to a time before his listeners could remember. He could hear them wriggle in to the grass as they got comfortable, waiting impatiently for the story he was remembering.

                 He could see himself walking briskly round the yard once, twice, three times and then, having spotted where the dandelion leaves were greenest, went to eat breakfast. Then a short walk to the stone steps that led up to the house and he stopped, waiting.
Not in front of the step, as that could be dangerous for the Little Lady. Her eyes were not good and he didn't want to be stood on. So he waited patiently as the sun stretched across the yard.
                 He awoke with a start. The Little Lady was unbolting the back door, which was a long and noisy job. Then with a grunt and a creak, it opened and he heard the welcoming "Hello Terry. Where are you then? Look what I've got for you." She came slowly down the high steps, holding tightly to the hand rail and Terry moved obligingly in to her line of vision. She sat down on the last step, straightening her dressing gown. Then she reached out her hand, invitingly. In her crooked fingers she held a square of white stuff, covered with red stuff. Terry marched quickly forward.
Lovely sticky sweet red stuff! Yummy! This was his favourite. A special snack for special days. Jam Butty! His mouth opened wide as he stretched his scaly neck out, to snatch his second breakfast.
"Well, that didn't last long, did it? You must have been hungry. Now come here and let me wipe your mouth."
It took some time but Terry allowed her to clean his face without nipping her fingers, accepting that the worse thing about Jam Butty was the sticky mess Humans felt they had to wipe away.
Because the best thing about Jam Butty was that tortoises did not have to waste time chewing them, they just slid deliciously down through the mouth, past the taste buds and in to the stomach without stopping. Humans couldn't eat that quickly (although some certainly tried).
"I'll see if I can find you some nice lettuce later," and she struggled back inside the house. He watched and wanted to say goodbye, that he would not be here later, but the only sound he could make was a hissing, gasping noise and she did not hear.
             He turned and made his way to the Big Red Gate. For some time he had been hitting the Gate with his shell and slowly, oh so slowly, a hole had appeared. Bit by bit, the wood had splintered and snapped and broken away and now he was sure if he pushed just a little bit harder, he would be able to force his shell through the gap and escape.
            Bang. Bang. Slip. Nearly there. He could see the black wall beyond the Red Gate and was determined. A step back and a big rush forward.
Crash!
           and he slid through the gate.

Sing, sing...

Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily
Merrily, merrily,
Life is just a dream.
                                                           
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
If you see a crocodile,                     
Don't forget to scream -
    aaaaahh!


                         

Row row, row your boat
Crabwise up a tree.
If you see                                         
a giraffe up there,
Say 'Hello' from me!

Row, row, row your boat
Life can be a muddle.
Started rowing down a stream,
And now it's
Just a puddle!