As a further instance of memory or intelligent knowledge, we are constantly in the habit, in the cooler weather, of putting them to bed under a mat in the greenhouse; and we very constantly find them, in the morning, waiting by the greenhouse door to be let out, clearly remembering that this is the place by which they will have to pass into the open air.
They do not appear to care much for each other’s society—(I believe they are both males)—but they do not fight. Neither are they respecters of each other’s persons, for they walk over each other’s backs in the most indifferent way, if either happens to be in the direct road of the other’s progression.
One of the creatures is certainly fond of climbing. We have several times found him mounted (when shut up in the greenhouse) upon the other’s back; or upon an inverted flower-pot; and once we found him in a most pitiable condition through the exercise of these scandent aspirations. He had evidently been endeavouring to climb up some flower sticks placed slantingly against the wall, and in doing this he had turned over upon his axis; and when we found him he was reclining upon his back against these sticks, and standing upon one hind foot, whilst with the other, and with his fore feet, he was making frantic efforts to reinstate himself in a more comfortable position. As so placed he reminded us irresistibly and ludicrously of a huge toad held up by a fore leg.
Our Tortoises have certainly got tempers. They hiss when they are meddled with. They resist and try to scratch, or otherwise hurt, when lifted up from their place of repose; and they exhibit distinct petulance, and will jerk themselves forward out of your hand when you are again placing them upon the ground.
They are also very particular when going to their evening places of repose, and most distinctly refuse to go to rest in the place in which you try to place them, however comfortable this may appear to be, even if they have previously selected this spot for themselves day after day.
Mr. Darwin speaks of a large kind of Tortoise which is reputed to be able to walk at the rate of sixty yards in ten minutes; i.e., three hundred and sixty yards in the hour, or four miles a day. I have twice timed the rate of progress of one of my Tortoises. Once it walked ten feet in the minute, and another time twenty feet in the minute. This latter is at the rate of twelve hundred feet, or four hundred yards, in the hour; or of a mile in between four and five hours. This truly is not quite the ordinary rate of the hare’s progress, but I think they can cross a certain small distance of ground much more rapidly than we should at first suspect.
Once more. These creatures distinctly grow in size from year to year. Our two measure respectively seven and seven and a half inches in length. And they must have elongated fully an inch in the three and four years of our possession.
I weighed them this year, on May 29th, soon after their waking up for the summer, and again on September 8th. They weighed in May, 2 lbs. 7½ ozs. and 2 lbs. 3½ ozs.; a fortnight ago they weighed 2 lbs. 10 ozs. and 2 lbs. 5 ozs.; having thus gained in weight through their summer feeding 2½ ozs. and 1½ ozs. respectively. [36]
When the due period arrives in which they naturally bury themselves, and so surround themselves with earthen bulwarks, and then retire for the winter into their carapace castles, we put them down into a cupboard in the cellar.
Mr. White remarks that his Tortoise did not bury itself into the ground before November 1st, but ours are cold and torpid, and quite ready to hybernate by the first week in October. Probably the different latitude and longitude of Selborne and Norwich may account for this difference of time.