Most things we write come out of a moment of enthusiasm
The sun rises and we sit on the beach. We don’t make a sound, but it isn’t quiet. There are the turbulent waves that look deceptively soft. The turkey vultures mutter amongst themsleves, occaisionally letting out an indigant screech as their breakfast is plundered by a more daring individual. Up and down the beach we can small sea turtles hauling themselves to an from the salt water, looking for that perfect nesting place. A wave swells and we admire another Olive Ridley catching a ride to shore. The grey mixture of sand, broken eggshells and organic matter is once again being fertilized. New turtles will dig up nests laid only a few hours ago in an indelicate and disinterested way. It isn’t that they don’t care, but they have a job to do and a single minded work ethic. If you sit behind a sea turtle once it has finished laying, you can feel the tremours wriggle through the sand as she throws her weight from side to side, determined to disguise the nest area and make it look like the was never there. Her tracks are the only give away, she makes them as she pulls herself along. They remind me of a truck tyre’s tread except there is only one and it trundles on as if the driver were feeling a little diconcerted by the change of pace.
Each of these turtles will hopefully nest twice more over the next few weeks. Even more hopefully, their eggs will hatch and the youngsters will be able to reach the shore line before stray dog gets playful, or a turkey vulture wants a delicious snack. We sit there in silence, but it isn’t quiet. It is fervently hopeful.