By Julian Norton

Published 26th Apr 2025, 11:45 BST

“That’s an interesting name. Where does it come from?” I’m fascinated by the provenance of animal names and usually ask this sort of question to the owner of any animal with an unusual name. “His name’s Turbo,” came the obvious reply- it was clearly a typo on the record. But ‘Turbo’ is not necessarily an ironic name, because many tortoises are much quicker on their feet than you might imagine. An old friend of mine had one as a child, so rapid and adept at hiding in the garden that he glued a small flag on a long pole to his shell using Araldite, so “Crusty Pie” (that was his name) could be easily found when on his travels. Crusty Pie was, by all accounts, a character and was frequently spotted trying to mate with my mate’s climbing helmet, if it was ever left on the lawn to dry after cleaning. His libido was as strong as his legs, even if his eyesight was slightly lacking. I must add here that you should never glue anything to a tortoise shell, or put anything else on it for that matter; but those were different times.

Tortoises sometimes refuse to start eating after awakening. Warm baths, vitamin injections, exposure to sunlight, tasty food and, as a last resort, stomach tubing with mushed up meals can all help. These cases can be frustrating but also very satisfying, because there is a weight of responsibility that comes with treating such a long-lived creature.

As well as chelonians emerging from sleep, last week the sand-martins returned, so it must be spring. I know the exact day because on the Saturday, at the point on Cod beck where they have their burrows, I had a long chat with the owner of Maisie, the defiant Westie cross Rottweiler (yes, really) who is Emmy’s nemesis. Normally, Emmy runs away and Maisie is swiftly attached to a lead, but on this occasion, it was not necessary. Em was swimming and in her element, for she is a strong and confident swimmer. In the conversation across the beck, Maisie’s owner confirmed Maisie most definitely wasn’t. Emmy was holding all the cards. Anyway, having scrutinised this part of the beck for at least ten minutes, with its steep, sandy banks, I know for certain that there were no sand-martins in evidence. The following morning, they were here in abundance, swooping and chirping and catching insects to replenish their energy after a long journey. I was happy for them because, at least today, the journey must have seemed worthwhile. It’s hard to imagine the disappointment that migrating birds must feel if they arrive in the UK on a cold and murky day. Maybe a bit like landing at a drizzly Leeds Bradford airport after a sunny holiday. The reason why I’m linking an anecdote about tortoises emerging from hibernation with the return of the sand-martins (apart from both signifying the arrival of vernal freshness) is that in ancient times, people thought that migrating birds such as swallows and sand-martins actually hibernated (a bit like bats, hiding in crevasses in trees, rocks and caves). Having seen the prompt and instant arrival of the fast-flying brown and white birds (which showed no signs of fatigue at all) it’s easy to see why.

The Yorkshire Vet: Turbo-charged tortoises herald the spring - Julian Norton

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