Nesting Instincts

Philip’s old truck is amassed with wire, rusty tools, and leftover trash. It is, however, not a deterrent for Sundae, her girls, and me as we ask to borrow it. I do not drive a stick-shift, but Sundae thinks she can.

Generously, he gives us the old beater truck and a few instructions. We thank him and head out to the beach. We are not shelling nor meandering on the shore lines, not this time. We are going to the South Point beach to share the experience of the excavation of a Loggerhead turtle nest. 

It is early dusk as we all climb into truck. Sundae sings as we drive the short distance and drives the truck “pretty well.” We park and toss our shoes into the truck. I pull on my backpack, as always, and we head over to the excavation. Amy, the park ranger, has already begun the task as we arrive and surround the area. Even though the evening is warm, Amy is wearing long pants, park ranger shirt, hat and rubber gloves in which to handle the egg shells.

There are about a dozen of us who have come on this night of the full moon to experience this ancient tradition of sea turtles hatching and heading out to sea. I am bursting with excitement and can’t believe I am part of this. I have, in past years, been a morning volunteer with the rangers in spotting nests and marking them off. This year I have spent most of my time in the Lighthouse telling stories. In all the years that I have been coming to Ocracoke, I have never had this experience. The turtles usually hatch after I leave.

One by one she pulls the empty egg shells out of the nest. She marks them off in groups of ten and answers our questions as she works. The nest actually “boiled” two or three days ago. The rangers wait those days in order for all the turtles to have a chance to naturally take to the sea.

We peer over the side and watch as each shell is brought up out of the nest. These are Loggerhead turtles. Amy tells us that this is a record year for nests. There are 51 recorded turtle nests on Ocracoke this year, breaking the former record of 48. 

Cape Hatteras National Seashore is the northern most site for Loggerheads, and the temperature of the nest determines the sex of the turtle. It is good there are so many nests which will provide more males. As Amy is telling us about the new DNA testing program for the Loggerhead turtles, she scoops up a live turtle from the nest. I cannot take my eyes off the little hatchling that couldn’t get out of the nest. She holds it up so we can see it and we take photos (with the flash off). 

By the time the nest is fully excavated, there are two hatchlings that are alive, four dead in their own shell, and the rest already tumbling toward the Sargasso Sea following the Gulf Stream. The turtles that safely make it to the sea, will spend thirty years before mating and laying their own eggs.

She passes around an egg shell so we can touch it. It feels like soft plastic. Amy cleans up the nest putting the egg shells and the few that didn’t hatch back into the hole knowing that the remains will make dinner for crabs and gulls in the next few days. 

With the two turtles safe in a small cooler, we now head down to the darkening sea shore. The surf rolls in and the moon begins to peak out from the clouds as Amy releases the two small turtles. One little hatchling is anxious to begin the journey and takes to the sea quickly as we cheer. The other one is a bit shy to enter this part of the life stage. This little turtle needs a couple of pushes before it enters the watery world. Only one in a thousand will survive to come back to the seashore to lay eggs and begin the journey again.

I stand on the edge of sand and sea with the perfectly full tangerine moon hanging by a string in the night sky. Thirty years. I will never see these little turtles come back, but it is good to know that in generations to come this ancient tradition will continue, and life goes on.

Ranger Amy Lipscomb shows off the baby.

Amy lined up the hatched shells in groups of ten for easy counting.

Waiting for the sun to go down, the little turtle practiced using his flippers in the cooler.

Its flippers left tracks behind – miniature versions of its mama's crawls.

Almost there!

Lou Ann Homan is a writer and storyteller, and a summer resident of Ocracoke. She posted some videos of the nest excavation on her blog – the last one shows the little turtles finally making it out to sea. She's also posted a number of other videos taken during over the summer, of island people and places. You can find them all here.