May 16, 2009 — Things were hopping Saturday night on the beach at Sandy Point — as much as anything that weighs 600 to 800 pounds and lives almost all its life in the water, not on the sand, can be said to hop.
It’s nesting season for the leatherback turtles that were born at Sandy Point and return there to repeat the cycle of life, crawling ashore in the dark and laying eggs in holes they laboriously carve out in the sand, then covering them and returning to the water. The St. Croix Environmental Association, in conjunction with the Fish & Wildlife Service, which oversees the National Wildlife Refuge at St. Croix’s southwestern tip, offers members a chance to go out in groups on the sand and watch the process.
The 30 people who had signed up in advance for Saturday’s turtle watch gathered at the refuge’s entrance as dark fell across the island. At about 8 p.m. we had all been signed in, the locked gate was opened and in single file the dozen or so vehicles headed off for the two-mile drive down the narrow, rutted, potholed road to the parking area adjacent to the beach.
The rules are pretty strict — no flashlights or cameras are allowed, because the lights can distract the turtles. You have to stay in the group, because they don’t want you wandering over the beach disturbing the animals.
It’s hit or miss on these watches. You might come out, get down to the beach and wait for three hours and never see a thing. But Saturday night, as we gathered on the sand under the guidance of F&W biologist Claudia Lombard, there was excitement in the air. We could hear on her radio other biologists reporting that six turtles were already on the sand and a seventh was just coming ashore. Lombard got the location and led us off.
It was a moonless night, dark on the beach, and we walked carefully, stumbling occasionally on the soft sand and uneven terrain. But after a short walk Lombard brought us to a halt. About 20 feet away there was … a dark spot.
To Lombard it was clearly the turtle we’d come to see. To me, it was a dark spot in the sand ahead. She had us hold our place while she carefully advanced to see what it was up to. Then her light flashed briefly — she’s a trained biologist and knows how to use a flashlight without disturbing the turtles — and in that brief instant of illumination it was suddenly clear what we were looking at, the huge bulk of the turtle — much larger than I’d expected — facing the water as her back flippers carved out a hole for her eggs.
In groups of five we crept forward so Lombard could show and explain how the flippers pulled the sand out, creating a narrow chamber. When the flippers could no longer touch bottom, the turtle would lay her eggs.
But as Lombard spoke, the walls of the chamber started collapsing. Flippers kept digging sand, but the narrow hole kept widening. When this happens, the biologist said, the turtle will either make do, go back to the sea and wait until the next night, or move down the sand and try again. We waited to see what this mother-to-be would decide.
She opted to find a new site, and we waited quietly while she moved, using her powerful front flippers to drag her considerable bulk, about 10 feet south and tried again.
This time the digging went smoother, and within a relatively short time the hole was ready.
When turtles give birth they are "in the zone," and it’s hard to distract them. Some people say they’re "in a trance," but Lombard eschewed the term.
"I like to think she’s focused, focused on what she has to do, and doesn’t let anything get in the way," she said.
While the turtle followed its instinct and did what turtles do, the humans gathered to watch did what humans do, which means the 30 people acted in a variety of ways, some appropriate, some less so. Little groups spoke in highly excited whispers as we went forward to watch the eggs fall into their chamber. Others crowded forward and had to be asked repeatedly to observe, then move, so that everyone could get a chance. And at least one, who’d apparently fortified herself against the night, threw herself to the sand and scuttled to the very edge of the hole, threatening a cave in before her companion was able to get her to restrain herself.
After the eggs were laid, the turtle begin filling in the hole, carefully tamping the sand down. While this was going on, Lombard led the group around to the turtle’s head and invited us to touch her shell and shoulder. The shell as everything you’d expect a five-foot long turtle shell to feel like. The shoulder was surprisingly soft, almost velvet-like, but you could feel the strength of the muscles underneath as she heaved against the sand, firmly closing the egg chamber. It was hard not to be impressed with the power and the almost primordial feeling as this massive creature bucked under your hand, a light rain falling, the waves crashing close by in the dark.
Then we all backed away to let the biologists do their thing. While Lombard answered our questions, prefacing each answer with "that’s a good question," her colleagues measured the shell, took blood samples, recorded the data with the number of her tag and took measurements from permanently placed markers so they’d be able to record where the nest was.
Leatherback turtles are endangered around the world,. And Sandy Point is the only place where the population is holding steady and perhaps even growing. Lombard said so far this year the population is approaching the all-time high of 190 females, recorded two years ago.
Leatherbacks born on Sandy Point’s beach will migrate as far north as Nova Scotia before answering the biological call to return to the beach of their birth to reproduce. Each female will crawl onto the sand and perform the age-old practices we’d just observed. Then they’ll return to the sea, mate and be back on the sand in 10 days, regular as clockwork. Each female will lay five to six nests of about 80 eggs.
The males only spend one day on land, the day they come boiling out of the nest as hatchlings, struggle to the sea and take to the water.
Once the hole was filled, the turtle began disguising the site, throwing sand and debris in sheets with her front flippers. She was not only visually hiding the hole, but also dispersing the scent so that predators who rely on their noses wouldn’t be able to zero in on the newly laid eggs. That done, the turtle began dragging herself back to the water, followed by a gaggle of fascinated sightseers. In her wake she left a track that looked like a huge tractor trail, five or more feet wide.
In 60 days, if all goes well, the hidden eggs will hatch, spewing tiny baby leatherbacks like a volcano as they come to the surface and follow their mother out to the sea. And the biologists from Fish & Wildlife will be there to help make sure as many as possible survive.
The process finished, Lombard began leading us back along the waterline to where we’d parked, but a short way down the beach she stopped, hunching over and signaling us to stop. Peering closely at the water’s edge, she retreated a few steps.
Another turtle was coming ashore. To get back to our cars we’d have to go up to the wood line and circle around, keeping as quiet as possible, while she repeated the process we’d just watched.
The SEA has one more turtle watch scheduled this season for members, on June 11. Anyone interested can call 773-1989 to become a member or for more information.
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