Category: wildlife

Working for the Greater Good–Transformation as Taught by a Sea Turtle Hatchling

Working for the Greater Good–Transformation as Taught by a Sea Turtle Hatchling

By |

A small, vulnerable being had a major impact in the lives of many people recently. Her story appeared in a video earlier this week and finally, I feel ready to make an attempt to find words about her impact on my life.

Her siblings left the nest three days earlier and she steadily scratched and tried to escape to no avail. When it was time (by NFWS guidelines) to excavate her, it was soon discovered that this little loggerhead sea turtle was trapped in her shell and in the sand wall of the nest. She had managed to free her upper body but was hopelessly stuck, unable to extricate herself from the hard-packed sand. Alone except for the volunteers who had monitored her sounds for three days.

When she was carefully removed, her shell was still rounded as a result of her predicament and so her back flippers were crossed. Her left front flipper was tucked at her side. She was seriously movement-impaired and her upcoming walk was a long one…followed by a 30 mile or so swim to the sargasm seaweed beds floating far offshore in the Gulf of Mexico.

To facilitate stretching, she was placed in a sandy pit and monitored by volunteers. Crawling on the sand would help her uncurl and relax from her cramped position. After about 20 minutes, she began to tire so she was placed in a shallow pit filled with sea water and allowed to swim. She seemed to visibly relax and as she swam about, her flippers began to move…all of them.

Several of us monitored her progress and encouraged her to move and expand the range of motion her flippers had heretofore not experienced. But darkness approached and she needed the black of night to give her the best chance of making the long swim to the sargasm seaweed beds.

So back to the sand after she was hydrated and had improved movement. This time in the trench her brothers and sisters used three days prior to crawl to the sea. By the time she reached the water she was able to crawl in a straight line, rather than the spiral pattern she made after first being rescued. She made it to the water and hopefully was able to move deeper into the Gulf, to a place of safety where she could more fully recover from her entrapment.

In the moment of working with an injured or fatigued wild animal the focus must remain on their best interest. To be present with them, emotions are set aside and everything is devoted to helping them have the best chance of survival. Especially with a threatened or endangered animal…it feels like so much more at stake. So much more hangs in the balance.

It was later, during the next day that I realized what an impact this tiny being made on me. As I reflected back to beach, my mind recalled grown men encouraging her, children, women….all of us were present for her, cheering her on and hoping for a miracle. Another miracle actually. It was already amazing that she survived three days (or maybe more) trapped in her shell.

Terry Tempest William says that to love is to be hurt, to feel pain. Love involves an open heart and with an open heart we will  experience grief, feel sadness, joy, excitement–the full range of emotions. To close our hearts is to stop love from moving through us and that makes us ineffective as instigators of positive change in the world.

I’m not saying everyone should be a sea turtle volunteer. I am suggesting that we keep our hearts open, willing to feel everything that comes with loving. If we close our hearts to pain, we shut them down from loving and therefore abandon everything that needs us, that desperately needs humans to step up and work for the greater good.

Recently one of my mentors, Joanna Macy, thanked me for not abandoning my grief. I’ve pondered this and understand now that she was thanking me for keeping my heart open.

To honor all life, no matter how great or small, may we keep our hearts open and stand ready to help wherever our soul prompts us to go.

12 Hours on the Beach

12 Hours on the Beach

By |

Shuuuuuuuuuuuu…..shuffle..shuffle……SHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU…..shuffle–crawl….. Silence.

Cycles of tides, rhythms of waves, calls of gulls as they make their last patrol over the sand……shuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…shuffle….shuuuuuuuuu….the sounds of sea turtle hatchlings as they break free of their eggs and begin their long crawl from under the white quartz sand.

On July 23rd the sea turtle nest East Beach team had been monitoring for Laguna Key team was wildly active. We continued to hear cascades of sand that lasted over 90 seconds and they came often. Then vigorous digging began as the loggerheads slowly made their way up against the pull of gravity and toward the pull of something even greater for them–the Gulf of Mexico.

As we patiently waited and watched for the young ones to emerge, the waves continued to whisper to them and to us. Stars called out to their internal timing and the crescent moon teased them with light as it silently slipped over the watery horizon leaving us in the dark–expectant, hopeful for a birthing.

Little by little team members drifted homeward, needing rest and renewal. Finally four of us sat vigil under the starry, summer sky. With microphone and speaker still connected to the sand outside the nest, we listened for hours to the cascading sand, the scrapes, the crawling noises and silences as the hatchlings rested, weary from their efforts to reach the night sky.

Alas, even though a deep crater had formed, sunrise thwarted the babies best efforts and so they spent the hot day resting, preparing for another nighttime attempt to merge with saltwater where their mother and father drifted in the blue-green water, never to see the tiny ones their union created.

I can’t remember the last time I spent the night on the beach. During those twelve hours my body and mind became more attuned to the rhythms of nature, more at ease with sitting in my own silence and simply being, witnessing the tidal nature of life whether lived at the shore or inland. Breathing in starlight, exhaling love for the beauty that surrounds us….what could be more important, more sacred than this?

When words drift away and the mind surrenders its nearly constant effort to analyze and decipher and plan….when we go beyond mind to that place of expansion and breath…where we breathe with the incoming rush of waves and efforts the baby turtles make to be born…we begin to understand that the Earth holds us all in a holy embrace and we labor to be born, over and over again throughout our lives.

—-

The next night 73 tiny loggerheads found their way to the surface of their earthly home and made their way to the sea. Twelve long nights we sat vigil yet it was those last 12 hours that brought me back home….to myself, to the Gulf Coast, to the Path.

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.

Breakfast is at 8.15–Don’t be Late!

Breakfast is at 8.15–Don’t be Late!

By |

For the past two mornings I have had the privilege of watching two baby osprey chicks be fed. The parents are usually precise in their feeding time and when the dad was a couple minutes late this morning, the mother let him know it was time for their babies to enjoy their morning repast by her loud and excited call.

Being on the Magnolia River early in the morning is a joy. Half the time I’m dodging mullet leaping out of the water and the other half of my morning paddle is spent listening to birds singing, cicadas droning or like today, an osprey mom calling to dad to deliver the fresh catch of the morning.

Grateful for such a treat and also for a break in my cardio paddling, I find myself daring to not be late for this most amazing, breakfast appointment.