I arrived at the beach as the sun sank below the bank of clouds on the western horizon. As the soft, white sand squeaked under my feet on the path, I crested the top of the dune. The most beautiful sunset of my life unfolded over the Gulf of Mexico. I wanted to check the sea turtle nest but first grabbed my phone to take a few photos….and began my mantra: oh my god thank you this is beautiful thank you thank you thank you….(breathe in…..breathe out).

Knowing that the nest would most likely hatch this evening, I hurriedly set up my chair and dropped jacket and water bottle on the chair and walked into the tarped nest. As soon as I put the stethoscope into my ears the sounds of cascading sand and turtles crawling just beneath the surface was loud. I knelt in the cool sand, having to ignore the brilliant sunset, and concentrated. One, two, three, four, five…….fifteen, sixteen….short break then one, two, three….sixteen…..one, two, three….and for probably twenty minutes there were cascading sounds which is pretty much a sign of eminent exit from the nest. Which, in turtle time, means a few minutes to hours. Turtles operate on instinct and use very soft chirping and grunting sounds to help coordinate their exit and crawl to the sea.

After last evening’s call to team members about cascades deeper in the nest, resulting in several team members coming out, I wasn’t about to once again tell folks to come until there was a physical change to the nest. I got up, got the shovel and neatened the shallow trench, looked for ghost crab holes that might harbor predators to our little turtle buddies, and then went back to view the nest. In just a few short minutes the top had dropped.

My heart raced as I texted two of our team members: Nest dropped. Come now!

I lifted the predator screen a bit so they could escape without walking on the wire mesh, rechecked the glove supply and waited. By then the beautiful colors had faded and the gray of twilight had arrived. The moon, over half-way full, lit up wispy clouds. One at a time, three of my teammates arrived and we took turns listening and quietly observing the nest.

As often happens with sea turtles, they are in no hurry to exit their nest that has been their home for fifty-something days. Over the past five days we had heard sounds that evidenced hatching. Slowly each one makes his or her way nearer the surface where they usually wait until most are able and ready to join in for a massive exit. Two nights ago one scout had exited during the night and made it to water. Tonight the gang was gathering.

My over-fifty knees grew weary of kneeling outside the tarp peering in at the gathering mass of dark, little hatchlings. I walked out to the edge of the water and simply breathed in the beauty of the evening. Stars peeked through wispy clouds, small waves rolled to the shore….moonlight reflected on the surface of the sea. It was a night that reached out to grab anyone willing to be taken into its grasp.

It’s challenging to describe the raw, primal beauty witnessed and experienced when midwifing sea turtles. Watching and listening to their process is beautiful but there is another very personal transformation that can happen in the moonlight, at the edge of the Ocean, exposed to the instinctual wisdom of this reptile species. As much as I enjoy writing, it always frustrates me when I attempt to convey what happens within me during these turtle nights.

I feel one with the Universe….I feel the energy of life filling me….the Ocean speaks to me through the sound of waves and the moonlight dancing on the its waves….there is a sense of Oneness with all life…I feel a part of everything and everyone….I feel surrounded by love…and yet these attempts to describe it seem so hollow compared to the actual transcendental experience.

After a while of feeling blissed-out and rebalanced, I walked back to where the other turtle gals were kneeling and peeking over the tarp. The surface of the nest was thick with dark, fat baby loggerhead sea turtles. Those on top were resting and moved only when the mass below them moved as one. A surge from below them appeared to make the entire group breathe as one. The moonlight illuminated this so we could watch.  (We don’t use lights, not even red, safety lights, when they are emerging).

Finally, after being amazing even more (if that’s possible) by these instinctually-wise reptiles, one started crawling which caused the rest to awaken from their nap. Down the dune, between the tarp they crawled. We expected them to head straight for the moonlight, which was almost perfectly aligned due south of the nest. They, however, had other ideas.

After we rounded up little ones headed in every direction and had safely seen over 100 babies to the water, one of my teammates said, “Bet you never thought watching turtles hatch was aerobic exercise.” We all laughed but it was as if they had no sense of direction and ignored the moonlight…odd. There were no major lights from near-by houses so we weren’t really sure why their wires were crossed. Several had to be encouraged into the water, even after they had a short swim. Too late to change your mind now kiddos…it’s time to go for your destiny!

We cooled off a bit, calmed down and visited with each other before we dispersed. One sweet turtle volunteer stayed behind to keep watch for others we could hear working their way up through the nest.

So that’s what it’s like when sea turtles exit their nest. Sometimes they crawl as a group to the water and swim off like well-behaved kids and then there are nights like tonight. All are magical, all teach me about the incredible instinctual wisdom they have as wee babes, and there is always some mystical experience that emerges, at least for me, from exposure to the sea, stars, sand, and turtles.

I breathe in….I breathe out…I am grateful.