I was probably too young to read the first time I saw the pictures of the giant tortoises of the Galapagos Islands. But even though I couldn't read the words in that National Geographic magazine, I knew I was looking at something incredible. Turtles the size of Volkswagon Beetles! Who had even heard of such a thing?
Seeing one of these behemoths in person became a priority, although in this case the definition of "priority" was "all but impossible dream." A trip to the Galapagos would be more difficult than a trip to Bama Park… though it would probably be worth it. Sure, Bama Park had a water slide, but no water slide would be more cool than hopping on the back of a giant tortoise and taking a ride.
Time went by (as it always does) and I leaned more about the giant tortoises of the Galapagos, but my fascination never waned, even after I figured out that tortoise rides weren't allowed in the Galapagos. Still, I wanted to see one, up close, in its natural habitat. Of course, that would require a trip to the Galapagos, which still seemed unlikely.
But one of the things that happens as time goes by is that the unlikely sometimes becomes possible. And sure enough, the opportunity to spend eight days in the Galapagos Islands as part of an ecology class was offered; I thought about it for almost a second before saying "Yes!" In fact, I was so excited about going, and adamant about not letting the opportunity pass, that I accepted the invitation for my wife and I before she even knew about it. Fortunately, she was as excited about the trip as I; good thing, though we do have some comfortable couches, so I would have been willing to spend a few nights on one of them had the need arisen.
In preparation for the trip, we attended several classes dealing with the Galapagos; this was, after all, a class, and not just a touristy cruise. We learned about the history of the islands and how they came to be formed, we learned about the warm and cold currents that collide at the islands, and how it's the cold current that makes it possible for penguins to live on the equator.
We learned about all of the wildlife we'll encounter, including those penguins, hundreds of other birds, dolphins and whales, sea lions and marine iguanas. And, of course, we learned about the famous Galapagos tortoises.
One of the things I learned was that while the Galapagos Tortoise is a species, there are actually 14 subspecies, each found one just one of the islands. Six islands have just one subspecies, while the largest island, Isabela, has five subsepecies.
And if you do the math, you'll realize that those numbers account for just 11 of the 14 subspecies; that's because the other three subspecies are now extinct, mostly thanks to the sailors who passed through the area in the 1800s; they realized that a ship full of giant tortoises could keep them fed for months. It didn't take them long to take every tortoise from three of the islands, effectively eradicating those subspecies from the face of the Earth.
And they almost did it to a fourth subspecies, but one-- one-- lone member from the island of Pinta still survives. His name is Lonesome George, and after decades of exhaustive exploration, scientists are convinced that he is the very last of his kind. They don't know how old he is, only that he is old… and that when he dies, there will be no more of his kind.
No one knows when the next-to-last of the Pinta tortoises died, so there's no telling how long Lonesome George has been a sole survivor. George probably doesn't even know; it's not like he could ever shout out "Helloooo…. is there anyone else out there?"
Or, maybe he did, or maybe he did the closest thing, given his limitations. Maybe he wandered around his little island for months or even years, desperately seeking another of his kind, and wondering where all of the others went. Maybe he wondered what he did to drive them all away. And maybe he eventually gave up the search, and admitted to himself that he was it; the last of his kind.
I sometimes wonder how that feels; other times, I have a pretty good idea. I remember when the lake was populated by people who loved it more than they loved themselves, and who worked to keep the lake in as good a shape as possible, so they could enjoy it, and so others could enjoy it, too. The water, the trees, the animals and the shoreline were precious and were treated as precious. But, things changed, and one by one those people began to die off, go away, or change their way of thinking; maybe they didn't change their way of thinking at all, but became afraid to speak their beliefs, or realized that speaking up wasn't getting them anything but trouble.
If they're still out there, they need to know that it's OK to should out, to look for more of their kind. In fact, it’s the only thing that's going to keep them from going extinct. So don't be afraid to shout it out: "Hellooo…. Is there anybody else out here?" You might be surprised at who answers.