Listening to the Earth

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.