Monday, June11th – Pacuare Turtle Reserve
Today was our second day at Pacuare Turtle Reserve. After surviving a night of tumultuous weather, including a leaking roof, we welcomed a break from the rain in the afternoon. After taking a walk through the jungle, we walked along the beach picking up trash and branches that could block the baby turtle’s path to the ocean. Bernadine, Nikky, and I talked with two other volunteers who were excavating old nests looking to see how many of the eggs hatched. I learned that the smallest eggs were those which had not been fertilized, the larger eggs had been fertilized but had not hatched, and the shells that were broken showed how many turtles hatched. We saw three dead baby turtles who hatched but could not make it out of the nest. It was really hard to learn that although turtles lay from 70-120 eggs per nest only a fraction of them hatch and of those who hatched, only a few will make it to adulthood.
As we walked down the beach we saw four turtles who were making their way to the ocean. Two took an early lead in the race towards the ocean and almost everyone in our group abandoned the two who were moving slowly because they were not as interesting. Nikky and I stayed with the two stragglers, cheering on the directionally-challenged turtles. I was worried that my turtle wouldn’t make it to the ocean, which would have broken my heart because I had named it Julie Junior, or JJ for short. JJ was only halfway to the ocean when the rain started again. I stayed in the rain to make sure that my pride and joy, JJ, made it to the ocean safely. Eventually, after much encouragement JJ made it to the ocean! I became attached to JJ because although small in size I could see his spirit and determination. Even when JJ was stuck in a mound of sand he didn’t give up, and although it took him a couple of minutes to free himself he did it! Although it took him significantly longer than his brothers and sisters, JJ showed me that you should never ignore the underdog.
--Julie Pettis
We awoke on the morning of our 2nd day at Pacuare to the hooting of howler monkeys and Aisha’s shrieks upon discovering the frog sharing her shower. After breakfast, we headed into the jungle. We passed leaf-cutter ants hard at work, several brightly colored butterflies, a spider monkey, and an abundance of plant life. On our way back, we took the beach route in order to clear off trash and debris that could impede the baby turtles’ journey to the ocean. Several of us spent a long time attempting to dig a large log that we quickly realized was actually a tree out of the sand. Our morale took a slight blow when, after trying multiple removal techniques, including a lever system, we were forced to abandon the project, but after successfully removing several large logs, we felt slightly vindicated.
As we arrived at the stretch of beach in front of the Pacuare dining hall, we saw four baby turtles attempting to make the arduous journey down to the water. We gathered around and began to cheer them on, working to clear their way. Rapidly becoming emotionally invested in their success, I got down on my hands and knees next to one baby and began to cheer my heart out, guiding the turtle with clicks, whistles, and taps on the sand. Much to my joy, it seemed to work, and as my baby turtle moved increasing rapidly across the sand, I heard murmurs of “Turtle Whisperer” from my surrounding companions. As I focused on my turtle, everyone else’s actions gradually faded out. When the baby turtle finally reached the water’s edge, I could barely contain my excitement. As corny as it sounds, as the waves washed over the turtle and carried it out to sea, I almost got teary. I proceeded to do the same with two of the other babies, and by 5:30, we were 4 for 4. To me, it was a small thing to cheer on the baby, but to the turtles, our protection could mean the difference between life and death. I thought of a huge loggerhead turtle I had seen on the beach in Hawaii and the green sea turtles I had swum with in Hawaii and in the Galapagos and hoped that one day, even if I did not recognize them, I would see the baby turtles we had so carefully guided happy and healthy in these beautiful places.
That night, we anxiously watched the rainy skies as we prepared once again to go on patrol. This time, only 7 of us – Polly, me, Julie, Alexandra, Dara, Grace Ann, and Ms. Quirk – chose to volunteer, and the majority of us had been on the patrol that had been cancelled the night before. As we walked along the beach, certain flashes of lightning were bright enough to temporarily blind us, sending us stumbling into one another. The pouring rain was interspersed with periods of both relative calm and intense fury. On our way out, we had several false alarms, but saw no turtles. As we arrived at the halfway point, the storm intensified, but upon seeing the tattered remains of the tarp, we realized it would offer little shelter. Still, our guide Jessica and I held pieces together as best we could and we camped out for 20 minutes.
When it became clear that the rain had no intention of ceasing, we began to head back. At one point, raindrops pelted with hail-like force, making it nearly impossible to see. The lightning became brighter, louder, and closer. We were nearly back and still had not seen a turtle. Suddenly, a flash of lightning revealed water shining on an enormous rounded shape ahead of us. We had seen our first turtle, a massive loggerhead. As she scooted into the tumultuous waves, we scouted out the patch of sand she had occupied. It appeared that the loggerhead had been a “full circle” – she had come ashore, inspected the area and decided it was an unsatisfactory nesting site, then returned to the ocean. The wet conditions couldn’t dampen our excitement – we had finally seen a turtle, and we were to discover that our good luck hadn’t ended quite yet. We were less than half a mile from the reserve base when an enormous flash of lightning forked across the sky directly in our sightline. Although I wished there was some way I could capture the scene that was illuminated in front of me, I knew that no picture or description could do justice to the image of a second loggerhead climbing into the storm-tossed waves, lightning bolt overhead.
--Emily Lucas
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