Dispatch 5: Turtle Diary

Thursday at dinner, Roopchand and Mohan told us about a nearby beach that is a nesting site for giant sea turtles. For two weeks in June, these great creatures come ashore, at night, to lay and bury their eggs. A friend, Roopchand said, had reported seeing one the night before last.

In spite of the day's labors, a decision was made to mount an expedition. At 10 we left for the beach the turtles favor: it is short and steep at high tide, which allows for a briefer stay on land where a sea turtle is in harm's way. After a short ride and then bouncing a half-mile down a dark rutted road we parked and walked through a farmyard scattered with palm trees and sleeping chickens to get to the beach. For some time we combed in both directions, walking quietly under an inky, star-filled sky, the lights of off-shore oil rigs on the horizon. "This has the flavor of a snipe hunt," Mark whispered at one point. But finally, directly in front of the large, wind-bowed palm that marked the end of the designated beach we spotted her - the huge, high-humped shell, front-to-back at least four feet, the football-sized head, the flat-paddle legs flailing. She was wedged in the foot-deep trench she had dug, throwing back sand to cover — and up to 15-feet beyond.

We stood our distance to give her room, stunned by the size and power of this magnificent animal and moved, too, by the force of her instinct. After a few precious minutes, when she was finished her burying, she paused, executed a 180-degree turn with three great shifts of her bulk, and lurched rapidly back down the beach. Hitting the water she went amphibian, and vanished quickly into the surf.

Candi, speaking for all, kept saying, "Awesome!" all the way back to the van. But whether from awe or simple exhaustion, nobody said a word on the drive back to the house.

Note: No picture, because we didn't want to terrify the poor turtle with flashbulbs.