Nikki Gallen - Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica
Week 4

           I’ve spent the past three weeks at a turtle conservation project, walking night patrols and taking care of the hatchery and recording data about one of the oldest and most unknown creatures, alive over 100 million years ago, dating earlier than some dinosaurs. Recent satellite tracking has shown that turtles travel across entire ocean beds and literally around the world, only to return to the same beach they hatched. But on this journey many human obstacles have put them on the path to extinction. Mile-long fishing nets and shrimp nets pull up thousands of turtles each year, at one point the annual death toll of turtles from these nets reached 55,000. Light pollution and beach front properties confuse hatchlings, sending them into parking lots instead of in the sea. Water pollution has caused severe deformities and tumors. At the Osa Sea Turtle Conservation Project, the beach meets the forest, and beachfront housing is rarely on your mind, it is the lack thereof the stands out. But the fishing boats are still visible on the horizon, and the turtle count has been decreasing for years.

      A patrol begins 8:00pm and lasts until 2:00am at the earliest, but it often proves to be much later. On multiple occasions I did not return until 6:00am. The main species we see is one of the smallest marine turtles, the Olive Ridley. But really, there is nothing small about it. These enormous creatures are stunning! It is hard to explain the marvel of working with them. To watch a turtle dig a nest is incredible; she stretches her flipper into the sand, scoops it, and throws it aside, scoops and throws, scoops and throws. When the nest is ready she becomes dazed and begins to drop ping pong sized eggs; egg after egg, sometimes two or three at a time. Olive Ridleys lay from 70-120 eggs at one time, and they nest multiple times a season. In this trance they are unaffected by their surroundings, and we can peacefully take measurements and tag her flippers. The ‘Covering’ is easily my favorite! Once finished laying, she begins to fill in her nest; alternating from pushing the sand in, to packing it down. When she packs the sand, she waddles from side to side hammering her back flippers with such an immense force against the ground. Thud, thud, thud, she packs the sand so intensely you would think her eggs would crush beneath her. She pushes more sand, beats the ground, and rests, only for a second, but you hear her lungs fill, and see her shell rise. She is tired, but she continues until it is as firm as the surrounding sand, then turns and heads back toward the ocean. Her movements are awkward and it is obvious that she was not made for land. Her flippers push her body across the beach, exhausted, but eager to return to a place where it can move freely and naturally.