LAKE ELSINORE -- Vick Knight's fascination with the reptilian world started with Bobby Woodward's lizard.

The sixth-grader, not the Watergate journalist, brought a lizard to class one day and asked what kind it was.

This was the mid-1950s, an era when many teachers might have banished both the boy and his reptile from the room. But not Knight.

Many Southwest County residents might know Knight from his years of service on the county's Board of Education. Or they might remember reading his wine columns in The Californian.

If they've talked to him for any length of time, they might have been invited to his house for an impromptu W.C. Fields movie marathon. He's got all of the curmudgeonly comic's films and what he calls the second-largest collection of Fields memorabilia in the world.

In the 1950s, Knight, a University of Southern California graduate and the recipient of a doctorate in education, was teaching science, and a lizard -- while a disruption -- could be used as a teaching tool.

So Knight, who just recently turned 80, showed Bobby how to find a book that detailed the characteristics of different lizards.

Pretty soon, other kids started bringing in reptiles.

A learning tool

Kids, as they are wont to do, enjoy creepy crawly things almost as much as they like getting out of their chairs and Knight used these truisms to introduce a hands-on world of science to his charges.

This new (for the 1950s) way of teaching was one of the reasons he was honored in 1958 as one of California's five "outstanding young men" by the State Jaycees.

"I became a friend of the reptilian world," Knight said.

Included in the parade of reptiles that came through his classroom was a humble turtle.

Knight, a former Navy corpsman and Armed Forces Radio announcer, didn't know much about turtles at the time, but he set himself to learning as much as he could, as he does with many other topics.

Eventually -- after a teaching career that included serving as a school administrator, trips to Mayan archeologic sites, state and national commendations, a writing career and the publication of science textbooks that were adopted by the state -- Knight retired, settling with his wife, Carolyn, in Canyon Lake.

It was there that he read in the paper about someone finding what was thought to be a rattlesnake in their backyard. It was a small story, but it piqued Knight's interest and he drove to the home where the snake was found and asked to dig it up from the site where it had been hastily buried. He found it was a harmless king snake.

In a letter to the editor, he included his phone number and asked people to call him if they found something reptilian that they couldn't identify.

In much the same way he helped Bobby, Knight was now helping an entire region learn how to identify reptiles.

And people called. They called at odd hours of the night. They called about snakes. About lizards.

His first turtle

When someone called about a turtle, Knight rescued it and took it home. His impromptu collection, which now stands at 12 tortoises and an unknown number of box turtles, was started.

"I've never bought one," he said during a recent interview at his home.

One of the turtles he rescued was a protected desert tortoise, so Knight applied for and received permission from the state to care for protected turtles. Some people gave him their turtles when they moved from homes into apartments. Others he took in after they were found in someone's backyard.

He's also become the defacto turtle guy for the nonprofit Animal Friends of the Valleys, which takes in abused and neglected animals.

While it's clear he enjoys watching the turtles battle for a wedge of shade or munch on the food he provides, he's never named any of his turtles.

"They're reptiles. … I don't get crazy about it," he said.

Some turtle background: While most people think all turtles are "turtles," a turtle that lives only on dry land, in the U.S., is called a tortoise. If it spends a lot of time in the water, like a box turtle, it's a turtle. A turtle that swims in the ocean is called a sea turtle, and a turtle that lives in marshy freshwater streams is a terrapin, which also serves as the mascot for the University of Maryland.

Backyard terrarium

Knight's tortoises, which he displayed for impressed youngsters during a recent library presentation, hang out in an expansive terrarium in the backyard of Knight's Canyon Lake home, which also contains vineyards and a waterfall -- perfect territory for the box turtles who roam around freely.

"I have no idea where they are," he said during the tour.

Having a turtle collection, if there are male and female turtles, means there will be baby turtles. More than 100, he says, which have been given away to children and neighbors.

In return for his largess, he has been the recipient of numerous turtle-themed gifts: hats, ties, figurines, wall-hangings, jewelry and a sign that reads "Turtle Xing," among dozens of other turtle-related items.

He has so much gear now that when he presented his turtles at the library he was able to fashion himself a "Turtleman" costume of sorts, complete with turtle hat, pink T-shirt with turtle decal and a turtle watch, which, he noted, doesn't tell time because turtles don't care about time.

Turtle lore

Turtles, more so than almost any other animal in the animal kingdom, have a central role in numerous creation myths. Ancient tales shared by the Chinese, the Indians and American Indians say the world rests on the back of a turtle or was created by a turtle. Mythological turtles who live in lakes, reptilian Solomons, are summoned to solve disputes in various stories. In one of the most famous fables, the turtle is the slow and steady victor in a race against a rabbit, teaching generations to pace themselves to reach their ultimate goals.

On a certain level it makes sense why ancient peoples would be drawn to turtles. They likely were ubiquitous in various spots of the world -- they are found on every continent except Antarctica -- and they predate some dinosaurs.

About 15 years ago, Knight, during one of his travels in Central America, had a Mayan turtle glyph, or symbol, tattooed on his right arm. He is using a stone turtle inside a cave as a religious idol in the book he is writing. Standing in his backyard, he's literally surrounded by turtles and turtle gear.

But, during a conversation at his dinner table after the tour, he doesn't seem much interested in discussing the parallel myths that feature turtles, their significance in ancient creation stories and his personal bond with the animals.

The most he'll say about the role of turtles in both mythology and ecology is: "In the fabric of life, they have a definite niche."

Pressed and prodded to talk about his personal connection to the reptiles, Knight offered a pragmatic explanation for his turtle collection.

While he and his wife are visiting a far-flung locale, he doesn't have to worry about his turtles back home. He can leave behind some clippings from his vineyard or yard and return in weeks to find his turtles hale and hearty. They don't need much water and there is little danger of them leaving their pen, ripping up the furniture or eating his shoes.

"Turtles have never given me any trouble," he said, leaving it at that.

Contact staff writer Aaron Claverie at (951) 676-4315, Ext. 2624, or aclaverie@californian.com.