Brandy's Turtle Story
Loggerhead Turtle Life
By Brandy Lawrence
I am warm.
I am too warm.
Pop!
Here I come.
It is nice now, not so warm- just pleasantly so.
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Ahh, my brothers, my sisters.
We are hatched and it is time to go.
Slowly, ever so slowly we must move.
Our shells are new, and soft as dew drops against a child’s skin. We waddle on brown and white flippers to the sea.
Cold, cold, cold!
Very cold.
Maybe it is just me- my brothers and sisters move along as if they do not mind the cold. We swim for days, hours, weeks, months. I do not know.
We drifted on slow and swift currents, we scattered at the sight of danger. Soon enough, we made it to a swiftly moving current. It would protect us, we could tell. We followed the current for a long, long time. It twisted and looped and turned in sharp twists. Finally we made it to a safe place. All of us could tell it had to be safe. There were a lot of other turtles there, doing their best to keep safe until they grew up and could protect themselves. There were small piles of sea grass that we all piled upon. I’m not sure how long we stayed there; floating along…I just know it was quite awhile. We ate sea
grass and the occasional fish. We munched on crabs and mollusks as we drifted by rocks and reef. A few of us accidentally got some trash we hadn’t known was there. Those that ate it….died. it was sad. We are so young, and already we are dying.
As we floated, we passed yet another nesting beach. Many babies hatched out the night we went by, but they could not hear us and they went away from the sea and their home, into the human land, towards the human’s city lights. It is sad, for we all know that those who did not go to the ocean will most likely never be back. So many babies, for so many years lost to the strange humans- lured away from our home land- the ocean- by city lights, instead of the glittering moonlight upon gently nighttime waves.
Not too long after seeing the confused babies, our family split up. We were old enough now to be on our own. It was frightening, yes- but we had to do this, it was time to gain some independence. My first night out I was attacked by something. I still- to this day- have no idea what it was- I just know that it was hard and refused to dent in my powerful jaws. It glittered coldly as I fought , but it still managed to scar me. I believe that my carapace-my ever so strong top shell- is what stopped it. So darkly colored and hard, whatever it was didn’t notice it in the dark waters. I now have just a small, ragged scar across the back of my neck, completed by a small nick in my carapace. We turtles have lived long, our elders having been older even than 50 years. All of us wish to be that old, but we know our goal can only be reached if we stay in this life past 30 years- the age of Loggerhead adulthood.
Once we are of Juvenile age, most of us just go along on normal outings without our elders watching our every move, and on occasion- some of us have deviated from the migration pattern…which isn’t really a pattern. It’s just a currant that pulls us near Florida, over to Japan and the Korea’s. After traveling, we go back to our home nest in the western Atlantic. It will be 8 years since I have been home, and how nice it will be. When we are of Adult Age, most of us are in our 30’s and we are ready to mate. We mate for three months and then we travel to our nesting grounds. For safety, we create 3-5 nests and we birth up to 35 lbs of eggs. For this whole time, we do not eat a thing, and by the end- we are very, very hungry. We go back to our normal hunting grounds and we feed till we are filled. Some of us go to Newfoundland and sometimes Argentina. Some of us even go all around the world.
I have grown old now, I have my battle scars, my stories for the juveniles, my family, and a comforting bed of seaweed to lay on. It’s been awhile since I left my old hunting ground, but I am safer here, I can feel it. Sometimes all the people watching me can be…frightening, but I know I’m in a good place. There are people, Humans- that I have seen walking around, patting my head, rubbing my shell, trying to heal my old scars. They found me on the shore- I had a crabber’s net wrapped around my left front flipper, it was cutting in, and felt so painful. They cut it off, wrapped it up, and carried me away. I’ve seen them bring in babies with their carapace’s half chipped away, and they cried- just like the babies mothers must have. These humans are doing their best to help us, this I have realized.
These amazing humans have put up protections around our nests, they help the babies get to the ocean by gently shining lights towards the water, putting up black cloth behind the nests to block out the lights of the city…these humans…so, so kind. And now, now I sit here relaxing in my cool water, munching on crabs, swimming around comfortably- though my fin is heavy now from the scars of the net. My life has grown to be comfortable and free of all worries. All I can do is hope that all turtles can have this same treatment some day. Our numbers are dwindling quickly, but maybe these humans can do something about it.