Category: Lightwork

Instinctual Wisdom of Sea Turtles

Instinctual Wisdom of Sea Turtles

By |

The warm, sunny day was exactly what the nests needed. After days of torrential rain and cool temperatures, our sea turtle babies were not encouraged to dig. The sand was hardened and wet, like concrete, and the air not conducive to reptile body systems. But this day…this beautiful hot, Gulf Coast day was perfect to assist in a hatching that had seemed imminent two days ago.

Our team was assisting with a nest a couple days behind another one close by and so I arrived early for my shift and walked west to check with the Laguna Key team to see how their nest was progressing. Camera in hand, I meandered in the sand enjoying the heat and sunset hues reflecting on the water. The smell of salt filled the steady breeze off the Gulf. Bliss, peace….heaven maybe.

When Sherry, L.K.’s team leader, saw me she motioned me into the nest area and showed me the crater moving with soon-to-hatch loggerheads. I took several photos and she positioned me there to watch and signal her when flippers or noses or entire bodies emerged. Meanwhile the L.K. team and East Beach team members began arriving and preparations were made to welcome these little turtle angels into the world. (I make no apologies for referring to sea turtle babies as angels, or precious beings or darlings….they make my heart melt and to state my affection for them in any other terms would be grossly dishonest).

I started standing watch around 7.15pm and as the sky darkened I wondered if my eyes would be able to distinguish the dark shadows from newly hatched turtles making a dash for the water. Thankfully the sturdy tarp enclosing three sides of the nest gave me a bit of assurance and I trusted that my eyes would detect movement. So I stood guard beside this nest of tiny beings, unknowingly casting their spell of saltwater magic onto everyone gathered to assist and witness their journey. Tourists, locals and veteran sea turtle volunteers were all helplessly under the spell of hatchlings.

When I returned home I wrote an account of what happened from beginning to end of the event but that doesn’t tell the real story for me. It is a shadow of my personal experience and so it is this deep process of connection with the primitive that I wish to share with you, my faithful and kind readers.

First, I was bewildered to be invited into a sacred space such as this–to stand as watcher of the nest. As I stood gazing into the moving crater, many emotions moved through me. Happiness, joy, excitement are a few but gratitude stood out more than any other feeling. Years ago I watched a loggerhead dig a nest and lay eggs when I was park naturalist at Gulf State Park. I have often been scuba diving and had amazing encounters with sea turtles and even had the opportunity to find a nest and help re-locate it a few weeks ago. But this….witnessing these ancient creatures repeat their miraculous arrival and march to the ocean….well, that was profoundly moving and meaningful.

As I stood waiting and watching, I thought of all the sea turtles I’d seen while diving. Remembering the giant loggerhead I came nose-to-nose with on a night dive in the Bahamas…thinking back to the Hawksbill I observed on my recent trip to Bonaire…and recalling a waltz I witnessed one sea turtle–missing a back flipper–do with a videographer…these experiences filled my mind and I thought, You little ones have such adventures awaiting you– coral reefs, sharks, divers, jellyfish, sponges, sea weed, and possibly even returning to this very beach to nest in 20 years or so. I’m not sure sea turtles can receive images via their reptilian brains, but in those moments before they emerged, I saw clear visions of what can be for them. Wondrous, amazing experiences. Beauty beyond belief. All possible.

A nose appeared while the sky was still light and quickly ducked back under the cover of white sand. Yet the movement continued as babies pushed their way up, up to their first glimpse of starlit skies. Their first breaths of salty air.

As the sky darkened all hope of capturing images of the babies evaporated and I surrendered to the moment, to the miracle of life. And before long, when the stars had outwitted the sun and twinkled brightly in the black sky, the hole turned black with babies and they began their journey from earth to ocean.

I watched carefully as some tried to climb the embankment instead of follow their siblings to the water. Carefully, gently I pushed sand under them and they slowly slid back into the chaotic line of purposeful movement, instinctually drawn to light reflecting on the water and the smell of water. One youngster veered far off course and another team member asked me to hand the baby to him so he could take him to rejoin the others. Oh so gently I lifted the fat and lively loggerhead baby into Rick’s hands and smiled as he went off to join the others. I whispered blessings to each one, to all and asked angels to help them in their life’s journey.

What makes sea turtles know to be quiet when someone approaches the nest? What makes them duck from the light and await the cover of night to make their journey? How do they find their way back 20 years later to lay eggs of the same beach from which they were born?

Science has a way of explaining it but for me it’s pure instinctual wisdom that can never be explained. It’s the primitive connection to the Earth and Ocean that simply is. This level of wisdom is something many humans find difficult to believe because we live disconnected from the cycles of nature, the tides, the seasons.

Sitting the last ten days on the beach for four or five hours at a time in darkness has made me intensely aware of the rhythms of nature. And I crave more, want more barriers between me and the Earth, between the Ocean and me to fall away so there is only union between us, only connection….only flow.

Listening to the Earth

Listening to the Earth

By |

For the past nine nights I’ve been sitting at a nest of loggerhead sea turtles. The volunteer team I am a part of was asked to help another team who had three nests ready for monitoring. The first nights were glorious with stars brightly igniting the night sky with light and warm breezes caressing us as we held vigil around these 94 little beings who were unknowingly depending on us to assist them in their journey from earthly home to ocean home.

The listening device we use has a small microphone that is inserted into the sand, near the nest, and a wire that leads away from the nest to an amplifier where we can sit and listen to sounds deep in the nest. This provides a way to monitor  it without being too close where the tiny turtles are sensitive to sounds such as foot traffic, voices and anything else that might mimic a predator. When they hear these sounds they stop digging and freeze, a behavior that has ensured survival of nests from foxes, coyotes, dogs and other predators. If we can keep a healthy distance, the babies can dig uninterrupted and thus move forward in their preparation to exit their earthly home and enter the realm where they will live the majority of their lives–the Ocean.

Last night our primary and back-up listening systems died leaving us with the low-tech version of listening–a stethoscope. We were so used to hearing the scrapes, sand cascades and bumping movement transmitted via the microphone, it was difficult to sit in silence, waiting over thirty minutes between stethoscope listening sessions. The temptation is to listen too much which disturbs the babies in their underground excavation and delays their progress. Given the fact that at least one baby hatched over nine days ago, it is in their best interest to leave them alone as much as possible so they can emerge healthy and strong, ready for their crawl to the water.

My shift began at 9am last night but I’d been there for almost two hours visiting with fellow turtle friends and wandering down the beach to another nest imminently ready to hatch. When my turn to listen came at 9.15pm, I was excited. I had never listened with the old method of monitoring and was looking forward to having the opportunity to listen….the deep listening that comes with using a stethoscope.

The end of the instrument was buried near the nest and as I approached, I felt a shift within myself. I centered myself and took a few deep breaths. I felt as if I was approaching the holy-of-holies. I lay, belly down, in the trench the babies will someday use to crawl toward saltwater. I put the ear pieces into my ears. Then….I waited. I knew that it would take a while for the turtles to resume digging and so I was patient and still.

Umbilicus in the sand, I felt connected to the Earth Mother. Breathing slowly and deeply I allowed stillness to permeate my being and I let go of everything else. It was just me and the turtles surrounded by the sandy womb. The silence was so pregnant, so powerful. Sounds of the waves drifted into the background, distant voices faded away.

Finally, the babies resumed their digging. From deep within the earth I could hear faint sounds of sand cascades as they hatched and climbed closer to the surface.

And now, as I recall the experience, there is an incredible sense of space and silence and peace within me. Listening to the Earth and the bounty Her belly held, changed me, shifted me and I celebrate the instinctual wisdom sea turtles mirror to me, to all of us.

My Wild Heart Sings

My Wild Heart Sings

By |

I arrived at the designated beginning point for my sea turtle patrol twenty minutes early–that’s 5.10am. The last time I was scheduled to patrol it stormed like crazy and even two hours of sitting in my car begging it to stop lightning didn’t change the fact that I missed my search for sea turtle tracks and also missed the quiet morning I enjoy so much when I walk the beach as a Share the Beach Sea Turtle volunteer.

But today was amazing. Clouds from a distant thunderstorm created beautiful artistry in the pre-dawn sky so I set up my tripod and spent 20 minutes shooting time-exposures of saltwater, clouds, reflections…everything a photographer dreams of.

By the time it was light enough to see tracks on the beach, it was a little after 5.30am. I ran my tripod back to the car and began my walk.

I stopped briefly two times, once to check a potential crawl and another time to snap a couple photographs. I moved on and had barely gotten into my patrol area when I found a sea turtle crawl.

I followed alongside the track and found a huge body pit where the mama loggerhead had most definitely labored. I then glanced over to make sure there was a return track and was shaking as I pulled my phone out to call our team leaders. I am good in emergencies and keep a cool head with stressful situations but it took a lot of focus to manage to find the number and call. “I think I have a nest Bonnie!” What I wanted to say was…“OH MY GOD!! SEA TURTLE, SEA TURTLE, SEA TURTLE!!! NEST, NEST, NEST!!!” But I managed to sound a bit more controlled…well…maybe.

The hardest thing was I had to finish the walk which meant another mile or so down the beach to check for other tracks. Some areas get more than one turtle laying per night. So after giving the location to one of my team leaders, I took several photographs and hurriedly walked the rest of my patrol in the early-morning humidity.

If I could have sprouted wings on my feet, I would have to get back to the nest. While finishing the walk my phone rang with the team ‘announcement’ that we had a nest and we needed people to come assist. The mother had run into three beach chairs that caused her to veer off her track and then came into a wooden ‘fence’ of chaise lounge chairs pushed together. She simply stopped there after making a spiral or circular crawl and then dug and laid her eggs very close to the wrack line of the beach. Far too close for safety for the eggs.

When this happens, we are permitted through our training and supervision of our team leaders, we move the nest. Many measurements, GPS location, and data has to be recorded for USFW Service as these are endangered turtles. And we have to have the nest moved and finished before 9am.

After preliminaries, we began a very long effort to find the eggs. The mother loggerhead lays them in a small pit hollowed out by her back flippers. The body pit she left was quite large and with her confusion over lawn chairs and the wooden loungers, she didn’t orient her body in the normal position. But finally, after one hour and 15 minutes, one of our guys discovered the top egg. And this after many of us carefully removed sand handful by handful until we were tired and very sweaty.

The bottom of the pit was 24 inches deep and there were 124 apparently healthy eggs. We had our turtle bucket with its layer of moist sand on the bottom and carefully and lovingly lifted them and placed them gently to await their new nest which was replicated as to size and shape further up the beach near the dune line.

I can share the statistics and the specifics about the nest which some might find interesting. But for me, this event was a light that shined on me just when I needed it.

Over the past couple of weeks I have struggled with frustration and grief over what we are doing to this planet. The more I immerse myself in the hands-on environmental work I’m committed to doing, the more difficulty I have keeping a positive, upbeat outlook. When a mile and a half walk on the beach yields three bags of trash every time I walk it, it begins to make me dislike humans for the arrogance, the selfishness. As I read about environmental challenges happening all over the planet, I get upset.

But I made a promise to stay informed and stay engaged with what is happening to our beautiful Gaia…our Earth. This is my life’s work, this is what I commit my talents and skills to, so to not stay engaged isn’t an option.

Being part of a team of people who passionately love a species that is so precious and beautiful is healing for me. The dedication of people who care–who are willing to give up sleep and meals and sweat a lot just to have an opportunity to help these endangered animals–moves me deeply.

I am now the human mom of 124 eggs that will hopefully emerge as little points of light…loggerhead light…that will grace our Gulf and the Caribbean with ancient instinctual wisdom that many humans can learn from and become a tiny bit wiser from the connection, the interaction.

The heaviness has lifted, the dark cloud dispersed as I have been blessed to work with a group of humans that DO care enough to help a mother turtle who was blocked from performing her task of laying eggs, near the dunes, on a beach in coastal Alabama. A task hindered by other humans ignorant of the plight of sea turtles and their habits.

All who love this beautiful planet must work daily, each in our own way, to help it and all creatures and humans who call it home. This is our greatest task.

What have you done today to help the planet? I’d love to hear your story.

“There are plenty of sea turtles” and other misconceptions

“There are plenty of sea turtles” and other misconceptions

By |

I posted a photo of a sea turtle caught in a net on Facebook today and it had a link supporting TED’s or Turtle Excluding Devices. Two people connected with the commercial seafood industry cried out in anger saying shrimpers didn’t hurt sea turtles and they loved nature and besides (and I quote) “There are plenty of sea turtles.” After my blood pressure came back to normal and I got really depressed about nature’s continued destruction by humans I decided to do a little research.

First of all, all sea turtles that visit or live in US waters are on the endangered species list. National Marine Fisheries Service cites the following reasons: Destruction/alteration of nesting and foraging habitats (coastal development), incidental capture in commercial and recreational fisheries, entanglement in marine debris and vessel strikes. So while the shrimpers in the Gulf of Mexico may love nature, their nets do kill sea turtles and finned fish and other marine life that cannot escape. This is a known fact.

In 2011 more than 3500 threatened and endangered sea turtles washed up dead on the Gulf and Atlantic Coasts. Only 5 to 6% of dead turtles wash ashore…do the math on the total estimated number of sea turtles killed just last year.

Nets properly equipped with TED’s are proved to be 97% effective in releasing sea turtles. And this comes after trials and rebuilds on the equipment. Very few shrimpers voluntarily used TED’s so laws were put into practice to require some shrimpers to use TED’s.

According to the person that replied to my post, the government is lying about all this. He went on to say that coastal development hurt sea turtles as did other fishing boats who don’t use TED’s and he’s right on both accounts. But I  know of shrimpers that used to shoot sea turtles, years ago, because they would get in their nets. I actually even found one shot and dead on the beach many years ago. Times have changed for sure. Hopefully that kind of behavior is no longer practiced. Now, if someone does that and gets caught they go to prison and lose their boat.

We think that kind of atrocious behavior is in the past but actually on June 21st of this summer, a bottlenose dolphin was found with a screwdriver sticking in its head. It had been reported in Perdido Bay and was still alive but was later discovered dead. So much for humans acting appropriately. Even the fine of up to $100,000 and a year in jail doesn’t deter people who, for whatever reason, cannot temper their inclination for seriously stupid and cruel behavior.

I find myself overwhelmed with emotions of sadness, grief and anger at what we humans are doing to this planet and each other. There are people that care and there are people that refuse to accept responsibility for their behaviors and call it the Will of God if a species goes extinct. So…should we not have doctors and let the problem species of the planet die off? Then everything else would come into balance. Of course not. But oh for a magic pill that would help us all see how our behaviors, thoughts, intentions and actions are destroying the planet and each other.

When I found myself deep in dark emotions this afternoon, I lit and candle and said a prayer for understanding. A few minutes later, while folding clothes, I heard these words: Those that don’t care about the planet and are only concerned about how much wealth they can amass, want you to quit, to give up. They want everyone who is bringing awareness, practicing compassion and love–to wildlife, wild places, and people who are hurting–to give up. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Love deeply, have compassion for all life and continue with the Work.

I replied back to the gentleman and let him know I heard his frustration about developers getting away with anything because they have money. I understand and agree. I also agree that some commercial and recreational fishermen and women follow the rules and some don’t. What I suggested was a dialogue between fishermen and women and National Marine Fisheries and NOAA. Rather than fighting each other and both sides claiming the other is lying, find common ground. Start healthy, sane dialogues. Otherwise we are destined to repeat and perpetuate the same old dysfunctional way of being.

Diary of a Wild Heart–Part Seven

Diary of a Wild Heart–Part Seven

By |

One of the things I love about diving Bonaire is the house reef in front of resorts is always a great place to dive and its one I can do solo and feel comfortable.

(Before I proceed let me assure my mother that solo diving as an instructor is something we do every time we take new students into the water and actually diving without four new divers is safer than diving with them. And…I stay at 35 feet of depth or less and take extra safety precautions…and yes, there’s actually a speciality for solo diving).

No other divers were nearby as I slowly moved through the water. Being by myself yet surrounded by the immensity of ocean life is soul food for me. As I glided along, a hawksbill sea turtle was foraging for breakfast, I was foraging for beauty.

Ocean creatures constitute an amazing community of life. The coming and going, the territories, cleaning stations, hiding, defending, hunting together–all of this demonstrates a most effective and efficient community. Each time I journey into these well-organized societies  I celebrate the instinctual wisdom demonstrated. And I always wonder why humans can’t learn from these marvelous cooperative neighborhoods. It was a good way to begin to bring the week of diving to a close.

The next morning our entire group decided to dive together so we headed south from the condo. We had entered the water and were making our way out to Tori’s Reef. My dive buddy and I had dropped down on the reef as had two guys a short distance from us. Just as we dropped over the edge of the reef I heard squeaking and whistles. I excitedly began looking around.

Three groups of four or five dolphins swam past, within 8 to 10 feet of me. I was screaming in excitement through my regulator and clapping my hands. So much for remaining calm underwater. In the last group that swam by the large dolphin closest to me turned over on his back and drifted by looking at me while swimming upside down. I couldn’t contain my joy! And so caught up in the moment was I, I forgot to take photographs of these amazing friends with the exception of one rather blurry one of their tails as they swam past.

I have been to Bonaire many times and this was the first time I saw dolphins. They brought a special gift to me, one that I am still unwrapping in my heart and mind.

During the first dive of the day I had so much grief surface about planetary destruction. I remember looking at tiny fish and crustaceans, sponges and corals and wept into my mask at the violence humans have done to the planet and each other. After the dolphins swam away I allowed those feelings of sadness their space but allowed them to be surrounded by the joy and happiness the dolphins evoked within me. I was so grateful, so frustrated, so joyful and sad all in the same moments as I glided along.

So in love with the ocean was I, in touch with life in a deep way. This depth of passion and emotion is what pulls me forward to continue the environmental work I feel called to do. The only way to proceed through the trying times–times of frustration, sadness and anger–is with an open heart. The pod of dolphins opened my heart. Only through love can I do the ‘Work’ and visit places that are polluted and damaged, deeply injured by humans. That is the only resource strong enough to see all of us through who have dedicated our lives to helping this water planet heal.

My wild heart was nurtured the entire week I was on Bonaire. From my time there I came back renewed and ready to do the ‘Work.’ May it continue…for all of us on this path.