Turtle Hatchings

I know, I know, I said I was done with the turtles and it is true that new tractor trails are getting to be a rare sight on the beach in the mornings but last night was a busy one none-the-less as several of the nests have hatched and there are miniature tracks, no more that a few inches across, weaving across the sand in all directions.

  

The theory behind a hatching is that a couple of days before the babies break out of the nest they start emerging from their eggs underground and gathering in a group, still safely buried in the sand.  Once all (or most at least for there is no time to wait for the tardy) are free of their soft shells they erupt from the nest in one energetic burst and go hell for leather down to the water’s edge, tiny flippers a blur of activity.  They should instinctively know which direction to take as the breaking waves on a dark beach will be the brightest point around.  To ensure that this is so, residents in houses lining the back dunes must turn off or black out any lights facing the ocean to prevent confusing the little ones and in our area at least the residents are very good at following this practice.

This morning we came across a perfect example of how to escape from a nest and all the tracks lead down to the water.  Ten out of ten for this batch of babies. 

However this is not always the case, especially in nests further away from the shore.  Here there seems to be a certain amount of confusion amongst the turtles when they finally see starlight.  Often a nest will have tracks coming out at all angles as if the hatchlings were in such a hurry to escape that they beetled off in whichever direction they happened to be pointing when they emerged.   

A few minutes of thoughtful reflection at this stage and it could all have ended so differently.  As it is the hapless ones who head towards the back of the beach usually come to a bad end, their tiny tracks ending abruptly (picked off by a bird?) or more sinisterly ending where a ghost crab’s trail begins. 

The crabs are not kind to their prey, snipping off one front flipper to immobilize the victim and rushing around to see if they can catch some more before dragging them all down into their lures.  

One thing is certain; by the time the sun comes over the horizon and slowly takes over from the surf as the brightest point on the beach all the newly hatched turtles have gone somewhere – ocean, crab, bird or raccoon – and all that is left of them is their tracks.

Now I am done with the turtles.

Chat soon

Carol