With a raised chin and swinging arms, Testudo bolts 100 yards across the football field, leading the pack of 6-foot-something players that follow behind him. The crowd breaks out in a series of roars and cheers; a nearby observer would certainly mistake the excitement emanating from the Xfinity Center for a gladiatorial battle in the Colosseum.

Students fantasize about who’s behind the iconic mask. The mystery and curiosity engulf them, and they can’t help but worship the thought of finding out who it is.​

Now you do.

Gavin Fauntleroy is the kid in your government and politics class. He’s the kid you’ve seen at the bars. He is also the iconic University of Maryland mascot sprinting across the field in a 30-pound suit.

Originally from Frederick, Maryland, Fauntleroy always knew he wanted to attend college in-state.

“I’ve wanted to go to Maryland since I grew up,” he said. “Getting in made the decision easy.”

The timing, less so, because his freshman year began in August of 2020, while COVID was still happening. He was not on campus until the following fall and truly experienced college chaos in all of its glory, including game days.

That’s when the idea of becoming Testudo first came up—not as a lifelong dream, but rather as a running bit with a friend.

“Me and one of my buddies joked around that we would sign up and try out if the opportunity ever arose,” he said. Well, his unintentional wishes came true because the former Testudo was graduating that year.

“They posted an Instagram post saying, ‘Hey, if you want the chance to be Testudo, try out, send us an email.’” So he did, keeping the promise to his friend.

The joke evolved into a notification.

“I didn’t know if I was going to go through with it. It was raining, and it was a 20-minute walk to XFINITY, but eventually I was like, ‘I’ve got nothing else going on today, so I might as well do it.’ So, I went there and went through the tryout process,” Fauntleroy said. “And it was fun.”

During the tryout process, Fauntleroy met the then-current Testudo and had a one-on-one with the coach and current mascot, answering questions—mainly about availability. He then tried on the suit and walked through some scenarios, like what to do with a crying baby or yelling fans. The tryout culminated in a music session where the team watched Fauntleroy become the Testudo we know and love.

Testudo has been around since 1933, though the idea of a diamondback terrapin, a species native to the Chesapeake region, first sparked in 1932 by Harry Clifton “Curley” Byrd, the then-university’s football coach and later president.

Following the unveiling of Testudo by the class of 1933, the 300-pound statue quickly became a campus landmark, a good-luck charm, and, finally, the iconic mascot Fauntleroy embodied.

The first rendition of Testudo sat in front of Ritchie Coliseum, but it was constantly stolen by rival schools as a prank. Administration then relocated to McKeldin Library with cement and bolts, where it currently stands today.

​Students began rubbing Testudo’s nose for good luck, and by the 1940s, they were leaving offerings, believing it brought them success. The ritual became a campus culture, still around today.

“I’ve seen all sorts of offerings to Testudo during finals season,” said sophomore Adam Goldfarb. “They are hoping to get a good mark.”

People have given neon Subway signs, flat-screen TVs, traffic cones, street signs and every kind of alcohol. In 2013, Testudo was even set ablaze.

“Subway sign. Fucking great, I was laughing my ass off trying to figure out how it was powered,” said a Reddit user.

Someone even offered himself…

​Over time, Testudo evolved from a stationary statue to our dancing, cheery mascot.

​According to The Diamondback and Maryland Today, the first time Testudo took form in a suit was in 1951, when Zeta Beta Tau members jokingly dressed up in masks and shells, but were soon after banned from dressing up because they were “costumed poorly.”

​The turtle that closely resembles the one we see prancing around goalposts today took form in the 1980s.

“There are few things I enjoy talking about more than Testudo,” said University Archivist Emerita Anne Turkos. “There’s no mascot quite like him, and he’s had quite a history.

Fauntleroy got to be the pride and joy of UMD, wearing the shell for two years, from his sophomore fall to his senior December. He loved the effect Testudo had on people. “Interactions are always great, because you can see how happy it makes a person,” he said.

Fauntleroy being Testudo would have been top secret just a few years ago. He was only allowed to tell family and roommates of his position. That privilege did not extend to partners, teachers, or friends. “You are basically sworn into secrecy after that,” he said.

With this dual identity that cannot overlap, Fauntleroy felt that in some ways, he was living a double life.

The endless interactions Fauntleroy had with people as a student were vastly different from the interactions he had with them in suit, even with the same people.

“You go to events, clubs, and you see all these people, and then that night, you’ll go to a game, but you’re in suit, and you see [the same people], but they can’t know—they don’t know— it’s you,” he said. “You interact with these people in two different ways: one as a person and then as a character.”

This would stress most people out. But for Fauntleroy, “it’s kind of awesome.”

His friends were a special target. “I would mess with [my friends] a little bit more, and they’d be very confused on why the mascot was messing with them.”

In terms of balancing student and mascot life, Fauntleroy didn’t struggle with prioritization. “Thankfully, as a government politics major, I was able to get all my work done pretty easily,” he said. “One of my strengths was writing papers.” During an average week, Testudo took up one to six hours of his time.

It was game days, though, that taught him what he signed up for.

Maryland, as a Big 10 team, takes game days seriously. From 9 a.m. keg stands to Greek life day parties, football games are a whole day’s worth of activities.

Part of Testudo’s role is to rile up the crowds and make surprise visits at these functions. But Testudo’s day during football season doesn’t start when you see the brown, oversized—somehow furry—terppain strutting across the field.

The job runs on routine, and Fauntleroy still remembers the rhythmic timeline of game day, a choreography he repeated for two seasons inside the suit.

He arrived at Xfinity Center a little after 8 a.m., while the campus was still waking up, and climbed into the golf cart that carried him through the long day ahead. From there, he made his way to the Varsity Team House, where he slipped into the layers of the costume and “[got] ready for the day,” he said.

By 9 a.m., the circuit began. He and his team went over their plan, then rode out toward the tailgates. The smell of alcohol and barbeques hit him first, then came the fans, the selfies, the hugs. He embraced time with the fans until he had to go back toward Terp Alley and watch the team walk in. “You do the pump, get them energized, and see the team through,” he said.

Around 11 a.m., he headed to Van Munching Hall for pregame. The suit is already warm, but the day is just getting started.

By 11:30, he’s on the field, dancing through recruits and kids along the sideline, giving high-fives with his oversized terrapin paws.

At 11:50, the pace accelerates. The prep for the run-out begins. Testudo always leads the team, which means sprinting full-on, in a heavy suit, trying to stay ahead of players wearing cleats.

“Testudo always leads the team out, which can gas you, because you have to sprint to stay ahead of them as much as you can, and it’s a little harder to run in that suit than it is in cleats,” Fauntlery said. “After that, you try to get everyone as hype as possible: a lot of dancing around, a lot of jumping around, and it’s right after you run 100 yards. So you’re gassed at that point, but you just got to keep it going. You can’t take a break then.”

By the end of the first quarter, the heat hits hardest. “It was definitely a fun time,” he says. “But that first quarter is taxing, especially early August, when it’s really hot.”

After the football season, Testudo shows up just as hard for basketball season. One of his favorite memories was beating Purdue in basketball and storming the court in suit.

“Oh my god, seeing the chaos and the pandemonium of everyone freaking out,” he explained. “You got a dude standing on the hoop, you got everyone on the court having a great time.”

Purdue coach Matt Painter even said, “they kicked our ass, and they kicked our ass on the court storm.”

But Maryland’s sports teams aren’t always winning against the number one teams.

“Sometimes Maryland football will struggle, Maryland basketball will struggle. And the problem is, while you’re in suit, you can’t ever look down. You always have to look happy, look excited, like you celebrate,” Fauntleroy said.

But behind every Testudo is just a Maryland fan, and watching their team lose will always be hard.

“As a Maryland fan, [if] the game’s not going well, you always feel a little down,” Fauntleroy said. “But you can’t let that take over the fact that you are in suit…the fans need to see you happy.”

The fans aren’t actually seeing what Fauntleroy is feeling, but he had to go over the top with his body language to show them. “Hand movements are key,” he said.

He would also skip, point at people, and wave to form bonds with fans in the absence of speaking.

When Fauntleroy took off his mask for the last time, he was at the Nashville bowl game, and Maryland had just beaten Auburn. Shortly after, he was walking down a red aisle to graduate, becoming another Maryland alum.

Fauntleroy may have graduated, but Testudo didn’t.

The next time you see the turtle sprint out of the tunnel, head high, waving and pointing, remember: there is a student under there, smiling at a sea of people who don’t know his name but love him anyway.