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154 IGUANA  •  VOLUME 13, NUMBER 2  •  JUNE 2006 COMMENTARIES

C O M M E N T A R I E S

Killing Animals for Profit1

Carl Hiaasen, Miami Herald

If your kids asked to bury a small animal alive, you’d be horri-
fied. You’d tell them that’s an awful thing and that they ought

to be ashamed. Most children wouldn’t dream of doing it, of
course, because they know what’s wrong and what’s right.
Unfortunately, they don’t make the rules.

Consider Florida’s poor, pokey Gopher Tortoise. Since
1991, the state has allowed grown-ups to bury 74,000 of them
because their burrows stood in the path of future subdivisions,
highways, golf courses, and supermarkets. Officials prefer the
word entomb instead of bury, but it’s the same dirty deed. Even
on his most fleet-footed day, the average tortoise cannot outrace
earth-moving machinery. Some are able to tunnel to freedom,
but most suffocate slowly over a period of weeks.

Gopher tortoises have been around for 60 million years, but
the last few decades have been murder. The Florida Fish and
Wildlife Conservation Commission classifies these ancient land
turtles as a “species of special concern,” although obviously not
special enough to be left in peace. A child can’t legally keep one
as a pet, yet a big company or even a school district can obtain
permits to snuff them by the hundreds.

Dwindling in numbers, the animals live in dry hammocks,
coastal dunes, and pine scrub. There they dig elaborate dens
that provide shelter to more than 300 other species, including
rabbits, burrowing owls, and the endangered Indigo Snake. As

luck would have it, prime tortoise habitat is often prime real
estate, which means the tortoises get the boot or, more typi-
cally, the bulldozer. The state calls this “incidental taking,”
which is a bureaucratically sanitized way of saying “smothering
to death.”

The permit process is straightforward. Developers seeking
to build on land colonized by tortoises typically agree to con-
tribute to a habitat fund, or set aside a relatively small parcel. It’s
called mitigation, a lame charade intended to make the state
appear vigilant and to make developers appear caring. In the past
10 months, Florida has granted 345 permits to bury tortoises.
The [South Florida] Sun-Sentinel recently published a sampling:
• The Tuscano golf course development near Sarasota got per-

mission to kill 260 of the reptiles in exchange for preserving
138 acres.

• In Duval County, the Young Land Group was told it could
destroy 190 tortoises if it paid $169,442 for 29 acres of habitat.

• The Orange County Public Schools got permission to kill 110
tortoises on the future site of a high school, in exchange for
preserving 12 acres at a cost of $92,037.

Since 1991, the state has allowed the burial of 74,000 Gopher Tortoises (Gopherus polyphemus) because their burrows stood in the path of future
subdivisions, highways, golf courses, and supermarkets.

C
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1 Reprinted by permission of the author and the Miami Herald. 
© Miami Herald  7 May 2006.

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IGUANA  •  VOLUME 13, NUMBER 2  •  JUNE 2006 155COMMENTARIES

South Carolina and Louisiana have major problems with some
of their senior citizens. As summer begins, Louisiana will have

begun to address the problem for one group. South Carolina will
still be seeking a solution for their denizens. The problem relates
not to AARP members but to turtles: How to control their
removal from the wild by commercial turtle trappers. Neither
state can afford to lose many more of their native turtles and keep
their natural heritage intact. Recent positive action by the
Louisiana senate regarding one species bears mentioning.

One of the most magnificent reptiles in America is the
Alligator Snapping Turtle (Macroclemys temminckii), a species that
is fast disappearing from southern rivers and swamps. The giant
turtle, one of the largest freshwater turtles in the world, gets big-
ger than the adults of some sea turtles. Typical adults can weigh
more than 100 pounds and the record is more than 200.
Alligator Snappers have a come-hither scam that operates quite
effectively with hungry fish. The turtle sits on the bottom with
its mouth open. Its bright red tongue wiggles like a worm. As
unsuspecting fish move in for a meal, they become a meal them-
selves when the unseen con artist slams its jaws shut.

Alligator Snappers inhabit the Mississippi River drainage
and are found as far east as southern Georgia, west to Texas, and
north to Indiana, although not in the Carolinas. Once they were
in virtually all large rivers throughout their geographic range.
Recently, their numbers were estimated to be less than five per-
cent of what they once were, and still declining. All but one state
(Louisiana) had passed laws to protect these mighty creatures
from the assaults of commercial trapping. I think it safe to say
that they are part of the natural world that most Americans
would like to preserve.

Louisiana may actually make that a reality. Louisiana Senate
Resolution No. 49 introduced by Sen. Robert J. Barham is “to
urge and request the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and

Are Alligator Snappers 
Out Of The Soup?1

J. Whitfield Gibbons

Savannah River Ecology Lab, Aiken, South Carolina

Alligator Snapping Turtles (Macroclemys temminckii) are fast disappear-
ing from southern rivers and swamps.

SU
ZA

N
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L.

 C
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IN

S,
 C

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A

H

1 Reprinted with permission of the author and Partners in Amphibian
& Reptile Conservation (http://www.parcplace.org/).

• Vikings LLC in Marion County was approved to wipe out
470 tortoises for a 542-home golf course development, in
exchange for preserving 136 acres.

• In Palm Beach County, Wal-Mart got permission to bury five
tortoises in exchange for a whopping 1.49 acres of habitat.

Mitigation is always meager. A pending project in the Tampa Bay
area would obliterate 2,573 acres of tortoise habitat, yet under cur-
rent rules the developer is required to set aside only 168 acres. That’s
a net loss to the tortoises of 93 percent of their home territory.

News accounts about the tortoise-burying permits have
angered many Floridians and discomfited wildlife officials, who
admit that not enough is being done to save the reptiles. The
state now wants to expand tortoise preserves in the Panhandle,
which sounds like a plan, except that moving the critters hasn’t
worked. Studies have shown that most of the relocated newcom-
ers have died from respiratory disease or other ailments.

Process as Slow as the Tortoise
Four years ago, the FWCC staff proposed elevating the status of

the Gopher Tortoise to a “threatened species,” which theoreti-
cally would offer more protection from habitat loss. No action
was taken, and the sanctioned killings continued.

Several local governments decided there was no time to lose.
Lee, Collier, Martin, and Hillsborough counties adopted ordi-
nances that made it more difficult to destroy the species, even
with a permit.

On 7 June, the state wildlife commission convenes in West
Palm Beach, a public meeting at which the plight of the Gopher
Tortoise finally will be addressed. A key factor will be the “risk of
extinction,” which grows worse with every mass burial. If commis-
sioners agree that the species should be reclassified as threatened,
biologists and administrators will begin drafting a management
plan. It’s a process as slow and lumbering as the tortoise itself.

In the meantime, officials say they’re working with develop-
ers and landowners to deal with the “entombment issue,” which
has turned into a serious public-relations headache. There’s noth-
ing “incidental” about burying an animal alive. Just ask your
kids. They’ll know better.

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