The oldest tortoise in all of France chewed on his cactus leaf.
“Grandpapa Muffin! A story!” The hatchlings sprinted towards him at their impressive maximum speed of 0.26 km/h.
“Which story, little shells?”
“How you came to Paris while the Eiffel Tower was being built!”
“How you rescued Grandmama Harriet Jr from the jardin zoologique!”
“Again?” Muffin chuckled. “I know: The story of our century-old secret society. The Galapagos tortoises in the Louvre.”
“It began when me and Harriet had our first children – nine darling hatchlings, and we were so …” he paused.
“Happy?” asked a little voice.
“Terrified. The papers were full of terrible news. A war. A world war. Our home in the Parc Monceau no longer seemed safe.
“Perhaps the kids fit in my nest?” our best friend Finn offered. (How a Galapagos Finch made it to Paris is a story for another time.) Finn always had the best ideas. So, although his nest was on the Eiffel Tower, we all scrambled up the 1,665 steps. It took us a little while. But the breeze almost knocked the hatchlings over the edge, so we scrambled back down.
Finn’s next idea was a boat on the Seine. It looked abandoned, and we slept perfectly. Unfortunately, at dawn a group of humans decided to go sailing, and we rode up and down the river for hours. Somebody got seasick. It may have been me. So, we decided this was not our forever home.
Then Harriet gestured at an enormous palace. “What about there?”
“Too busy,” said Finn. “Everyone is bustling about, discussing the war, food rations, and bunkers.”
” No one will notice us,” I said. “Their mind will tell them we are not there, because we cannot be there.”
We reached the grand entrance. “Louvre? Sounds fancy”, Harriet approved.
We rushed past the Mona Lisa and statues so realistic that I asked them for directions. Twice.
Suddenly, a museum guard came around the corner.
“Quick, act like statues!” Finn hissed.
We froze.
The guard looked around suspiciously, muttered something, then left.
I collapsed against the wall, relieved. Something cracked and I fell backwards. A vent!
“Well,” I said. “” This seems nice!”
Harriet wasn’t convinced. “A dusty hole in a wall.”
“A spacious, dusty hole in a wall.”
“Think about the children’s education,” said Finn. “Arts, history, cactus leaves in the museum restaurant.”
Harriet sighed. “Can’t argue with that.”
So, the ventilation system became our home. Our children grew up and had children of their own.
“And grandchildren”, added a little one.
We saw generations of humans move through the museum, from top hats to ripped jeans. We saw it all, though we were never spotted.
“But we are here!” said one of the hatchlings.
“All the best things are invisible: hope, love, courage – though there is one exception…”
Muffin pulled out a bowl from behind his shell.
“Cactus leaves,” the children rejoiced.
Muffin laughed. The world was ever-changing, but some things always stayed the same.