My mom showed up at my house a week ago with two turtles. She picked them up in Missouri and drove them across the country, in order to drop them off at my house. Of course she didn't tell me that they were coming. Of all the souveniors that she could have brought my children, she chose the alive kind. Apparently, three dogs, a cat, three children (including a four month old) and a husband are not enough to entertain my time.
Now, my mom is smart. She knows me well, and so she introduced the turtles first to my three year old son. Now how could I send them away, after the three year old had already learned that they belonged to him?
The rest of that afternoon was devoted to figuring out what to do with two Missouri turtles in southern California. The first place we went to was the internet, of course. Only to discover that the turtles' were three-toed box turtles, and their current home of pine shavings in a tupperware container was poisonous for turtles and might cause damage including death. While their untimely dimise would have eliminated the responsibility of housing turtles, I have a three year and a five year old who had already named the creatures (Racecar and Emily).
We quickly emptied their tupperware cage and replaced the poison with a bag of sand, left over from last year's Mother's Day project of paving our front patio. (We only play on Father's Day.)
The remainder of our Memorial Day Weekend, which was going to be a relaxing time to catch up on household chores, became devoted to building a deluxe turtle habitat. One hundred and fifty dollars later, the turtles have a great five by six foot rectangle in my front yard.
I've read that three-toed box turtles can live up to forty years in captivity. After all the hard work that went into building their home, I hope they at least stick around for a year or more.
