The sex life of a Guinness World Record Breaker

Jonathan enjoying his weekly top-up.  'You know you've missed a bit'

Every Sunday morning, without fail, grunts echoed around the paddock in front of the Governor’s house where I lived. I didn’t need to look out the window. I knew what was going on. It was the oldest land animal in the world - and Guinness Record breaker - Jonathan, a Seychelles tortoise, on top of his paddock playmate, Emma. Jonathan is now 192 years old and still ‘frolicking’ in his paddock with Emma and his two other companions, Fredrika/Fred and David. Fredrika is French having been first given to the French Consul on the island and then brought to Plantation House for her retirement. Although by now, I imagine she has lost her French accent.

In truth Jonathan is at least 192 years old, because we know he was brought to the island in 1882. A photo taken at the time shows him as fully grown and in tortoise (and human years) that would have put him at at least 50 years old. Add it all together and you have the world’s oldest land animal or as some reports say ‘the world’s oldest living land animal’ (which doesn’t make sense as, if he wasn’t living, he’d be dead, and then he wouldn’t be the world’s oldest). He entered the Guinness World Record Book while I was there, though he seemed completely non-plussed by the whole fuss at the time.

The fact is Jonathan often got on top of Emma, and now and again, Fredrika too. And the grunting would commence. It never came to anything because St Helena wasn’t the right climate to hatch baby tortoises. But no one told Jonathan that. He didn’t mess with David though. He was a bit bigger in tortoise size than Jonathan and often they’d get quite cross with each other, vying for a particular bit of mud or grass, growling and clanking shells.

Jonathan loved listening to the tennis balls being hit and would often wander over to the court if anyone was playing.  His cataracts though meant he could only follow the sound.

One day Jonathan chose to alter his Sunday routine and perform his amorous advances when we had a cruise ship in the harbour. It was a week day! At these times, the population of the island doubles and everyone wants to come and see the star attraction. A special paddock corridor was built for tortoise viewing but when cruise ships come, we have to deploy additional crowd control ie. Debbie, Michael and others from the house. I happened to be on hand to witness the spectacle Jonathan put on, grunts ‘n all. He, of course, seemed oblivious to the clicking shutters from the passengers. Poor Emma! At about 100 years his junior, she was quite a lot smaller than him. Some of the cruise ship passengers didn’t quite understand what was going on. Imagine showing off the holiday snaps at home.

Jonathan’s love life hit the headlines another time during my tenure. One of the vets had suddenly declared that ‘Fredrika’ was in fact ‘Fred’. With tortoises you can tell by whether the underside is flat (for a girl) or concave (for a boy). This all helps fit together, jigsaw-like, for procreation. Although how this was discovered for a humungous tortoise like Fredrika I don’t know. I doubt she/he would have rolled over willingly. Still, news spread like wild fire and before I knew it, Jonathan was declared ‘gay’ and I was giving interviews to Fox News and Pink News. The vet Joe Hollins - Jonathan’s carer and best friend - said it was quite normal for tortoises to mount tortoises of either sex. Indeed I’d seen Jonathan try from the wrong end…head first. But that didn’t seem to stem the media interest.

And when, two years ago, Jonathan was ceremoniously given a birth date, the Daily Mail ran a story with a quote from me saying ‘He still enjoys the ladies’. Strange as they didn’t ask me, I don’t remember saying it, and I was long gone from the island. But it’s certainly true. So may be I did.

Jonathan’s other passion is pears. If they were in season they were included in the weekly supplement I’d feed him. His beak crushed them easily and the juice unbecomingly ran down his chin. In fact before the paddock was fenced in, he often went awol when the pears were falling from the tree behind the house, near the Cathedral. Locating him was easy. Steering him back was another thing. Imagine moving Stonehenge.

I loved my time with this gnarly old gentle giant. But I was very thankful he survived my term. It’s every Governor’s nightmare that Jonathan dies on their watch. But like all royalty, there is a plan for when that sad day comes. It’s in an envelope and written on the front is ‘Operation Slowcoach’. I hope it’s many years until that envelope has to be opened.

Going to see the tortoises.