Last night we had a very exciting occurrence on the island. We were sitting around in the sand, lounging in hammocks, and sipping our Belikins under the stars like any Wednesday night on the island when a local friend got up and started slowly moving in an odd pattern, his eyes fixated on the ground. He waved us over, we reluctantly roused ourselves expecting to see an abnormally large or perhaps intoxicated hermit crab but instead we saw a teeny tiny turtle hatchling struggling to summit the mountains left by our footprints in the sand. First there was one, then two, then we were scared to move for fear of crushing our new fragile friends. Unfortunately, they were born on a moonless night (perhaps they were confused by the severe weather?) so rather than following their natural light source into the sea where they belong, they instead followed the lights of the bar (or perhaps they just wanted a Panty Ripper before their long journey). This left them in a very confused and dangerous position so of course we cute-cuddly-obsessed humans rushed to the rescue. Turtle layings and hatchings are a big deal on the beaches where I’m from in South Carolina so I’d been involved with a few releases before. I remember learning how important their crawl over the sand is to build up their muscles for the long swim they have ahead of them. The first turtle I found, I dutifully guided by placing my foot next to it to point it towards the sea. Since we were in the middle of the island when we first met, it was a pretty long trek, especially since a sailboat had brought in a group of 25 camera happy tourists that day, the constant flashing didn’t help my little buddy’s disorientation. After that one made it in, protocol broke down (not that there was any to begin with) and the tiny turtle hunt was on. It was much like Easter, in the dark, with the eggs trying to swim out of your hands in mid-air. The more practical goal was not to ensure that their muscles got a nice warm up before they hit the sea but just to make sure they didn’t get trampled in the process. Eventually it was decided that the best thing would be to walk them over to the mangroves where they could hopefully find some shelter. Many of them crawled right back out as soon as they’d reached the water, making things even more chaotic and the urge to keep one even harder to fight. Although I’d like to think it was because they didn’t want to leave the comfort of our sparkling personalities, I think it was actually more linked to the fact that everyone had flashlights masquerading as the moon. Once we convinced everyone to turn the lights off, I took one and waded into the water and established myself as official moon. After much excitement, all the little babies made it out. We have yet to find the nest, strange considering it’s such a small island, but we also didn’t find any little dead turtles today so that was heartening. We wish them well and hope they survive against all odds. Will be incorporating nestling protocol into the posted tourism info we’re drafting. And my mother says nothing good happens after 11 pm at night…
Unfortunately pictures were impossible in the dark without blinding the babies but this is pretty much what they looked like. At the time i thought they were Hawksbills but now I think they looked more like Loggerheads.
