Honor, Joy, Wonder.

 Last night I had the opportunity to witness one of the most amazing things-- and if were to wait until I could think of all the cool, writerly words I need to describe it, it would never be recorded. It was around 10:15 last night, a time when I'm not usually up and functioning. I decided that, since I was conscious, it would be nice to walk over to the beach and visit my ocean. The beach is about a minute walk from our place. Maybe less. When I got there, I paused, as I always do, at the end of the short walkway, to survey the "big picture" before going down the steps to the sand. The moon was full. Scanning the  water, as I always do, I saw, about 25 yards in front of me and a little to my left, a very large round, what? My first thought was turtle, because I'm always looking for them. Driftwood, I thought, but strangely round. Dead body? Sorry, but I did think that. Knowing I was going to go check it out, I stood a moment more and watched. And as I watched, I saw that it was moving on its own, not just getting washed in with the surf. A turtle. A female loggerhead, about 3 1/2 feet long, 3 feet wide, 250-300 lbs., was making her slow way onto the beach to lay her eggs. Under a full moon, on an empty beach. Oh my gosh.
I was transfixed, and really just beginning to believe my eyes. But I knew I had to share this with Bob (who better never stay home again when I invite him for a walk on the beach), so I streaked back to our apartment, and yelled up to him through the open windows to come quick. Then I ran back and fortunately, turtles being turtles, I hadn't missed much--she was only a few feet further than she'd been when I left her-- just a few feet out of the water. We watched her slow, arduous, determined journey from the surf to the dunes, full of awe at the sight.

She came up into the dunes at the exact spot of another nest--possibly her own-- they lay several a season. This other nest is staked out and ready for the baby turtles to make their way to the ocean. The "Turtle Patrol" people make a sort of runway for them, and this year, they've added a protective barrier down the runway. Our mother turtle was having a bit of trouble with the stakes around that other nest, kind of slowly ramming into them, and it looked like she could easily get tangled in the protective stuff, so we chickened out and called the Turtle Patrol. Had to call 911 to ask them to relay the message, which they were fine with doing. A cop showed up first. Funny. But no fire engines, thankfully. The Turtle Patrol came eventually, and after that it was a public experience. Still awesome though. She didn't need any intervention as it turned out-- she laid the eggs right next to the runway for the other babies. We got to see her dig the hole (about 2 feet deep, slowly, lots of resting in between, sand flying high on every magnificent sweep of the flippers), and lay the eggs ( she would be still for a while, and then she would kind of rise up in the air-- another egg dropping).  I guess there were about 30 people gathered by the time she laid the eggs and made it safely back to the ocean, and they were quiet and gave her space. 

The less prosaic part: Next morning, the Turtle Patrol dug up the nest and moved it about 10 feet higher into the dunes. But I got to see the eggs, as originally laid, before they moved them, which was cool. The hatch rate for moved nests (safely above the high tide line) is better than for natural nests-- that's why they move them if they're not in an ideal spot. This spot was debatably fine, but whatever. Not my call. My turtle, but not my call. :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The nest, before moving of the eggs.

Removing the eggs

Typical egg. They're pale pink, about the size of a ping-pong ball, and sort of leathery, as opposed to rigid, so that dent in the top is fine.

The "new" nest.

That's the nest, directly behind the sign. It says "Here lie the eggs from Suzy's turtle, resting and growing until her birthday, when they'll come out and do a little dance before they head out into the ocean."

I didn't have my phone or a camera with me during most of this, which was fine. It was good to just "be there." But I did go back last night to take pics of the tracks, before they disappeared. I've always wanted to be able to see at least the track of a mother turtle who had come up onto the beach-- I never thought I'd be lucky enough to see one make that track. The faint white line at the top is the surf.

        

I hope I can always remember the sight of that huge animal first coming out of the surf onto the sand. Just her, me, and the moon. What an amazing experience.