With no sleep to help me navigate the day the only escape I get is watching Frankie's endless pursuit of absolutely nothing. He walks everywhere in his yard getting no where special yet with focus of vital importance. At least the weather today is comfortable. Awake since eight in the morning, Frankie is taking advantage of every moment as he has.
At three I decide I deserve a nap so I go inside, recline on my sofa, turn on TV, and relax. The Godfather is on and even though it's violent, the scene of the Don chasing his grandson and having a heart attack is surreal so I may wake up just to see that.
Cat in lap, I slip off into a very comfortable state of not-completely-asleep-but-pretty-much-unavailable-to-the-world for a nice stress relief and temporary halt to reoccurring thoughts of mobster-like-violence I'd like to try on turtle abusers but absolutely know I'm incapable of physically hurting anyone.
How long was I napping? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? A god awful clatter unfamiliar to my trained reptile emergency and Frankie-catastrophe-in-process ear causes me to bolt up from the chair. The recently sleeping cat goes flying to the ground. I clear my mind and wait fully aware to see if it happens again.
Probably Frankie, I think, but it could be a neighbor.
Rumble! rumble! crack!
It's got to be Frankie I think as I open the back door but also confounded that the sound is muffled like it's happening in a tunnel.
The back porch is cluttered with things waiting storage. There was a ladder next to Frankie's dogloo but that's been push aside, probably by Frankie (remember the video of the sulcata moving the ladder? Yeah, Frankie does this now). I pull aside an empty cardboard box and there it is.
Frankie is head first into his dogloo. All I see are two back feet are posed on the edge of the dogloo. He is just sitting there. I tilt my head to one side to think what's in that dogloo that has Frankie's undivided attention?
Those two feet squarely set on lip of the dogloo are there for a reason. I witness that huge shell pull back on top of those feet which then launch Frankie deep into the dogloo accompanied by a huge, but muffled, BAM!
I am not stupid, okay maybe my priorities are skewed, but disregarding what ever is being rammed to pieces in that dogloo, I got to video this and it just happens the camera is just inside the door. I get it.
It takes about forty seconds to fetch, turn on, switch to video, compose my self (so the camera doesn't shake) and focus on Frankie's back end. Go!
What used to be in the dogloo was a bale of hay. Only bits of hay remain but behind the absent hay is wire garden boarder, a bird feeder, and, well, this is why he is there, a plastic turtle form Julie from Turtle Rescue of Long Island sent Frankie so he could hump it.
|Frankie's friend, Judy.|
Tortoise affections and mating overtures just don't compare to human courtship. Tortoises don't give flowers. Rams: They prefer to give rams. Endlessly.
The video is two minutes. Possibly Frankie was whispering sweet nothings between rams but trust me, quiet moments are followed by passionate overtures of pure ramming.
Video can also be seen on YouTube: Link to Frankie's video
Dedicated to our long time friend, Pat and her yard monster, Frankie.