Amidst the high-pressure environment of Oxford, college tortoises have retained an enduring appeal as oases of calm, their quiet dignity a reassuring counterbalance to the duress of a deadline. My first-year Trinity was largely spent languishing in Wadham gardens, my laptop open in an empty gesture towards the work I was ignoring, while I watched the movements of Archibald (Archie) Manshella across the lawn.
The college tortoise holds such a valued position within the community that the Wadham JCR constitution has endowed Archie with deciding power in the case of a tie (she always votes in favour of the motion because of her “radical desire for change”). Yet over the course of my tenure as Tortoise Officer, it became increasingly clear to me that Oxford is no place for the care of such a creature. Each individual college does not have the space, time, or concern to foster the right environment for a tortoise’s highly specific needs, nor – in the delegation of the entire role to a single first-year student on a temporary basis – can instruction be sufficiently imparted. Years of successive Tortoise Officers did not even realise that Archie was, in fact, a girl, until a revolutionary visit to the vets (although a transgender tortoise is, perhaps, rather on brand for Wadham).
In the absence of adequate provisions for reptile care, Oxford’s tortoises appear to exist primarily as a gimmick, exploited by colleges as a draw point to broadcast their quirky appeal (an example of green-washing in a quite literal sense). The role of Tortoise Officer is almost invariably mentioned with a wry smile, the whimsical absurdity of the idea obfuscating the real-life ramifications of animal neglect. For most students, the tortoise is a non-entity, hibernating for the majority of the year, and only providing interest as an emblem of college pride at the Corpus Tortoise Fair, or as a cute cameo in a Trinity term photo dump.
Archie’s poor health, the result of changeable weather and insufficient facilities available at Oxford, induced me to reconsider the ethical considerations for animal welfare involved in such a tradition. When Lincoln college made the decision to rehome their tortoise, Tortilla, in a reptile sanctuary, I persuaded Wadham to follow their example. Now thriving in her new home at the National Centre for Reptile Welfare, Archie’s health is better than ever. Although there’s no longer any chance of her winning any trophies in the name of Wadham, this seems a small price to pay for the overall enhanced quality of life that she now enjoys.
With the annual Corpus Tortoise Fair approaching, it would be great to see more colleges considering the benefits of rehoming their tortoises. It may be a lengthy process, but perhaps there is some wisdom in the old adage that slow and steady wins the race.
