The house cats like our company so we have to watch where we step; you like to think it’s affection but it’s all about food or body heat. Both tabby’s, one with white on its chest and front legs, the smaller one is all gray. The larger I call “Mas” and the all gray, “Menos”. More and less or, More or less, depending on the context. It’s morning but the sun is still behind the mountain and I have a sweatshirt and a hoodie on. Chickens and doves are doing call and response as I rewind yesterdays unfolding. Coffee time, just before we head for the beach, a lady comes through the gate so we offer her a cup. Her name was Susan and I forget the rest, a surgical nurse who lives in Sonora, an American expat. She came here from Sonora to learn about the turtle operation. A group of mostly medical people on the mainland side of the Gulf of California want to do the same. Seems they have Olive Ridleys but so many people leave tire tracks on the beach, babies can’t navigate them on their trek to the water and die there. They have done all the protocol with the government but want to jump start the nuts and bolts end. No need to reinvent the wheel. Susan is here afoot, came on the bus and spent the day with us. She wanted to talk to/with our boss but she was sick, didn’t come to the beach at all.
Susan had been to Todos Santos before and knew her way around. We hit a hole-in-the-wall bakery she knew about for rolls and pastry. The bread has no preservatives so you should eat it the same day. Pastries are not nearly as sweet as we’re used to but then that’s probably a good thing. She is meeting us here again at 10:00 today, hope the boss is feeling better and can help her with specifics that only she can provide.
Three nests started producing yesterday. At 2:00 p.m. we were scoreless but 12-13 min. later I went in to check and nest #15 had one baby up but it was baked in the dry heat, dead. Tried to revive it but no luck. If one made it up by itself there should be more just below. The top 4 or 5 inches of sand are hot so I sieved around gently with my fingers, looking for the next one. Right at the separation layer between warm damp and hot dry, I found one turtle. So he goes in the nursery outside, a partially buried tub with wet sand, in the shade. There were more deeper but no need to drag them up yet. It was after 4:00 when Faith, a 14 year-old who has been doing this for 4 years (parents moved here from north of the border) arrived and started digging. We had a big crowd of spectators at 6:00.
At the release, people want to get close and they tramp through the wet sand just above the swash zone, creating the same obstacle Susan's group has over in Sonora. The babies need to make their own way down the wet sand in order to imprint the location. Females will come back to this stretch of beach in 3-5 years to lay their own eggs. If the beach near the water is full of foot prints, the turtles can’t negotiate the terrain. We (Tortugueros) keep moving the show farther up the beach, telling them they have to stay up on top of the berm. Finally, far up the beach where the path to the water is smooth, everybody gets their wish. We released 63 Monday evening. It’s better to dig in the late afternoon and send them on their way at disk than find them in the morning. An early release puts them in harm’s way with predators and a day waiting on the beach stresses them. Nature would have it they go in the water as soon as they’re able.
The sun has made it up but my fingers are cold and my hoodie is still up. I’ll close this up and fire up the coffee pot. Still a couple of hours before Susan comes. I’ll sip coffee until then, it will require a second pot regardless.
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