Slow Ride

Illustration By: Jeffrey Bouchard

Do they even know it's World Turtle Day at all?

by Patrick Rapa

We all love turtles but how can we show it? Here are our recommendations for how you can celebrate World Turtle Day! (Mon., May 23 — like you didn't know that!)

Help a turtle cross a road.
That's the sincere suggestion from Susan Hagood of The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS), the environmental thinktank that came up with World Turtle Day. Cars represent the greatest cause of mortality for land turtles, according to the HSUS. "People don't, for the most part, know to look for them or expect to see them," she says. It also doesn't help that they look a little like rocks, right? "Yep. That's probably true," guesses Hagood. "And while people might steer around a large rock, a small rock might not promote that response." Because turtles live so long and reproduce so infrequently, every turtle roadkill represents a major setback in the vitality of the species.

Go see Mommy at the zoo.
The Philadelphia Zoo has some 23 species of turtles, from the palm-of-your-hand Madagascar Spider tortoise to the huge and magnificent Galapagos Tortoises. The oldest and therefore best of these is Mommy, who came to the zoo in 1932. She's about 500 pounds and somewhere between 80 and 100 years old. That's a big old turtle. How does the zoo move a turtle that big? According to reptile curator Brint Spencer, big tortoises like Mommy can be left out all summer long, and they usually have enough sense to come indoors when it gets too cold. If not, a gentle tap on the shell is a good way to remind the tortoise it's time to take shelter.

Although Hagood would rather see a turtle gallop free, she's resigned to the fact that "zoos aren't gonna go away." Sigh.

Buy a turtle from Darrell.
He's an entrepreneurial kid who sells silver-dollar sized turtles in the Italian Market. On summer days, Darrell often sets up shop on the sidewalk at an abandoned storefront, with his small plastic containers containing adorable little red-eared sliders in a half-inch of water. They go for $10 each and were selling like shortstacks this past weekend. The turtles are captive-bred by Darrell and his friend, and raised in their homes. This, he says, pretty much guarantees that they're healthy and not carrying any diseases harmful to people. The pair started out breeding frogs and snakes, but right now Darrell's into the turtles. "I like the exoticness of them. All the different colors," he says.

The HSUS does not approve, of course. In addition to the likelihood of disease transmission, Hagood says pet turtles usually "have short and miserable lives." And besides, are they even fun? "You just don't get any tail-wagging from a turtle."

Try the snapper soup at Bookbinder's.
A chef at the newly re-opened Old Original Bookbinder's at 125 Walnut St., speaking under the cloak of anonymity, gave me the lowdown on the restaurant's most famous delicacy. These snapper turtles spend the better part of their lives getting good and succulent on a farm in Virginia. Then they're gently killed, frozen and shipped up here, where they're slowly cooked in a broth for hours and hours. Eventually the meat comes sliding off the bones and out of the shell. It sounds mean but keep in mind: These are snapping turtles; they would gladly bite off your fingers and laugh about it. That said, if the concept of eating an adorable wittle toitle isn't daring enough for you, the Bookbinder's recipe also calls for caramelized veal bones. How you like me now, baby cow! After that, the flavoring is done in baby steps: a little lime here, a little orange juice there, some cloves, tomato, flour, butter and some top-secret spices that our source refuses to reveal. He will say this: "Johnny Taxon, he's the owner, he comes by to taste the soup every night."

Hagood's not into the soup: "Snapping turtles are just as vulnerable to population woes [as other turtles]." Has she ever had snapper soup? "No!"

Listen to "The Smokey Turtle" by Eyeball Skeleton.
Eyeball Skeleton sounds like what it is: Two kids (ages 8 and 10) on bass and guitar, and dad on drums. The Maryland trio — who "met at a hospital in the mid-1990s" — have become a cult hit on college radio stations like Princeton's WPRB. Their first full-length, #1 (released by My Pal God, the label run by WPRB's Jon Solomon), is a tour de force of absurd, heartfelt lyrics and catchy rock melodies. "The Smokey Turtle" is Eyeball Skeleton at its most memorable and befuddling: "In the garden he was running all around / His shell made a sizzling sound," and, "Break dancing in Egypt / Doing a shell-spin on a pyramid tip." Oh, and here's your chorus: "The smokey turtle, he was so smokey / When he came around, the people chokey chokey." Everybody!

"We love turtle songs!" exclaims Hagood.