The last turtle standing

The last of the 2,000 turtles released watches the sun set--maybe for the last time. Photo by David Lansing.

I’ll tell you what, you want to see an example of “survival of the fittest” in action, release 2,000 hatchling turtles and watch what happens. Right off a dozen or so little guys march straight for the sea leaving their brethren behind. They look strong and full of purpose and seem to know exactly where they’re headed. Meanwhile, most of the other turtles just sort of stand around looking greatly confused, bobbing their heads up and down like the porcelain chihuahua dog on the dashboard of my grandfather’s old Buick.

And then there is the group that just isn’t going anywhere. They sort of sit back on their little gray-black shells and look up at the sky almost begging a seagull to come and pick them off and put them out of their misery.

I just watched the whole thing and thought, Well, this is the way Mother Nature rolls. She can be a tough bitch. But most of the women, including Mechas and Chris’ wife Malin, were not about to let these turtles die without a fight. Even though the turtle sanctuary employees had told us to not pick up the turtles after we placed them on the sand, Mechas and Malin couldn’t resist. A wave would come in, rolling several of the baby turtles around and around in the surf and sand until they ended up stunned, several feet further back from where they had begun, and then just sit there, exhausted, with no desire to give it another go. Which is when Mechas and Malin would surreptitiously bend down, as if they just wanted to get a closer look, and, when the sanctuary volunteers weren’t looking, pick up the bedraggled turtle and carry it in their palm several yards closer to the water before releasing it. Of course, this almost invariably meant that the turtle would get nailed by the next incoming wave and go sprawling head-over-tiny-tail back up the beach, even more exhausted. But this did not deter the women. They were determined to save these plucky little guys so they’d repeat the process again and again. Until the hatchlings simply refused to move anymore. Or maybe were dead.

Happily, most of the hatchlings made it to the ocean where, no doubt, most of them were gobbled up by predators within a matter of minutes. But, as the sun was setting, I noticed that there was still a single turtle, spread out on the sand, facing the sun. He didn’t look in distress. In fact, he looked rather peaceful. Who knows, maybe he’d already expired. But I like to think that he was just taking in the last moments of the setting sun, knowing full well that this was his last day on earth, feeling neither remorse nor regret, and thinking, “Go on, boys. Keep swimming. I’ll catch up with you later.”

And then the sun extinguished itself in the sea and it was time to go home.