The Silent Survivor

I. The Turtle with the Golden Name

Hello, my name is Old Gold, or Cuora trifasciata in scientific name. Look at my shell. You will see three black stripes running down a dark brown background. Between the stripes, the color is lighter, sometimes yellow, sometimes amber and sometimes the color of a gold coin. That is how I got my name that human always call us, the golden coin turtle.

I am not large. My shell is about the length of your hand. My head is dark with a bright yellow stripe behind each eye. My skin is rough, my claws are sharp, and my temper is short. I have lived long enough to know that being beautiful is dangerous.

Humans want me. Not because I am pretty, because they believe I have value. In traditional medicine, my blood, my shell, and my body parts are used to treat various ailments. There is no scientific evidence that any of it works, but the belief is old and strong, and the price for a golden coin turtle can be higher than a month's salary of most human.

I am critically endangered. That is not a word humans use lightly. It means there are only very few of us left, it means we are closer to disappearing than to surviving.

II. The Streams Where I Live

I live in clean, clear and fast-flowing streams. The kind that run through the forest, over rocks and gravel, and shaded by trees. The water must be cold, oxygen-rich and free of pollution.

I am a good swimmer, but I also walk on the stream bottom, searching for worms, insects, small fish and sometimes fallen fruit. I bask on rocks when the sun is warm. I hide under boulders when I sense danger. I know every rock, every pool, every bend in my stretch of the stream.

But I do not travel far. Maybe a kilometer in my entire life. I find a good stretch of water and I stay there. That means if something happens to my stream, if it is dammed, if it is polluted, if it is drained, I cannot escape. I will die where I live.

III. The Road to the Sea

My stream flows downhill. It joins another stream. That stream flows into a river. That river flows into Deep Bay. And Deep Bay flows into the South China Sea.

The water that passes over my back today will reach the ocean in a few days. It will carry nutrients from the forest to the seagrass beds, carrying sediment that builds the mudflats where spoonbills feed. It will also carry fresh water that mixes with salt water in the estuary, creating the perfect conditions for oysters and growing ground for young fish.

If my water is polluted, that pollution reaches the sea. If my stream is dammed, less fresh water reaches the shore. If my forest is cleared, the soil washes down and smothers the coral.

The ocean does not begin at the shore. It begins in the hills. In the streams. In the pools where frogs sing and turtles hide.

IV. The Greatest Threat

The greatest threat to me is not habitat loss, although that is bad too. It is not pollution too, though that is getting worse. The greatest threat to me is the illegal wildlife trade.

Human came to the forest and pond to find me, they catch me, put me in a bag and sell me to a shop. That shop sells me to a customer, than they boils me alive or grinds me into powder. All for a belief that has no scientific basis.

I am slow so I am easy to catch, that is why I am disappearing. Not because I cannot survive in the wild, but because humans keep taking me out of it.

There are laws that protect me, the international laws and Local laws. But laws are only as strong as the people who enforce them. And there are humans who want me that willing to break the law, to get me for their own goods.

V. A Connection, Not a Separation

You might think I have nothing to do with the sea. I live in a stream. I never see the ocean. I never taste salt water.

But my home is connected to your home. The rain that fills my stream falls on the same hills that feed the same rivers that flow into the same bay. When you protect my stream, you protect the seagrass. When you protect the seagrass, you protect the seahorse. When you protect the seahorse, you protect the web of life that includes the dolphin, the coral, the oyster, the grouper, the spoonbill.

We are not separate. We are a single system. Water flows downhill, and so does the consequence of our choices.

VI. The Slow Crawl

I am old now. Not ancient yet, turtles can live for decades, but old enough to have seen changes. I have seen my stream become quieter, because there are fewer of us left to share it. I have seen the water become murkier, because the forest upstream is thinner than it used to be.

But I have also seen the researchers who come to count us, who place us back carefully after taking measurements. I have seen the patrols that chase away poachers. I have seen the laws being enforced, slowly, imperfectly, but enforced.

I do not know if it will be enough. I do not know if my grandchildren will swim in this stream. What I know is I am still here. As long as there is clean water and a safe place to hide, I will keep crawling, keep swimming, keep surviving.

And I hope that is enough.