The bungalows flanking the lane that leads up to Neelankarai beach are well lit, but the minute you hit the sand, all is darkness. So stark is the difference that, beyond a point, the only light you can see appears to emanate from the tips of moon-bathed waves crashing onto the shore. Turn your back to dwellings, and the sea seems to be the sole source of light — dim, reflected light, but brighter than anything around.
Standing thus, it is easy to understand what conservationists mean, when they say that newborn turtles naturally follow the light in their quest to reach the sea. It is also quite easy to see that if they do follow the brightest source of light now, they will be turning their backs on their destination and heading to the fatal city. The motley group of people standing in the dark is determined to prevent just that.
PUDUCHERRY, 26/06/2014: (FOR CITY 2) Olive Ridley. Photo: Special Arrangement
Further down the beach, about mid-way between the last source of electric light and the sea itself, stands what looks like a barricaded enclosure: a square patch of sand fenced off with bamboo logs and double layers of sacks. Members of Tree Foundation India guide us to it, explaining that the somewhat tricky entrance is “designed to keep dogs from entering even when the gate is open.” It seems to be working well for both dogs and grown-up humans, while children hop to the other side with ease.
Inside, the sand is marked as neat, square grids, with sticks jutting out of some. Those are the grids beneath which turtles eggs have been nested, buried deep.
“When we see any turtle nests, it has to be relocated within six hours. The yellow yolk gets attached to the surface of the egg, and the position of it may change when you are relocating: the hatchling may not emerge. They may not develop properly. So it is advisable to shift them within six hours,” says Shalini Kumar, programme coordinator, Tree Foundation India.
Aided by one small flashlight, fisherman, turtle production squad member and senior Tree Foundation member TA Pugalarasan guides us delicately through the unmarked grids, telling us how to avoid the underground nests, till we reach a spot where it’s safe for us to sit. And here we sit — two little girls, two conservationists, and I — with our eyes fixed on an upturned wicker basket on the sand.
The patch of ground we’re fixated on is different from the level sands barely an inch away: it seems to have sunk, like a sandy sort of sinkhole. This is a sign that the eggs have hatched. “When the eggs crack and open, there is a loss of volume, so the sand falls in and the hatchlings are able to crawl out,” explains Shalini Kumar, who works with the foundation. This is not an instantaneous process. As soon as a grid of sand shows signs of sinking, a basket is upturned on it as a demarcation, and hatchlings are anticipated.
Sure enough, within a few minutes we see tiny shadows of movement behind the cracks of the upturned basket. Pugalarasan discreetly shines some light on it, and we peer in to see delicate little newborns, smaller than a child’s fist, scrambling frantically to reach the sea.
But this is not where they are supposed to begin their journey. Their mother — an adult Olive Ridley who has long since returned to sea — had laid them at a spot far closer to water. Though they were relocated to this hatchery for their own safety, the distance to the sea from this current spot is much greater. It’s also important that the turtles know exactly where they were nested, since they will return to the same spot when it’s time for them to lay their own eggs.
PUDUCHERRY, 11/03/2017: Olive Ridley turtle hatchlings swim in seawater after they were let into sea on Saturday morning at Panithittu in Puducherry on Saturday. Photo: T.Singaravelou
So we pick up the scrambling little things one by one, and delicately place them in cloth-lined baskets. We make our way out of the hatchery, down the beach, to the exact spot where the nest was found. Here, children and parents alike place each newborn on the sand, while Pugalarasan shines his little torch to guide them. Though small, it seems blindingly bright in the relative darkness, and ensures that the newborns don’t get distracted by the bright city lights in the other direction.
Then, as everyone watches and cheers, the tiny hatchlings enter a mad little rush towards the light, crawling above, below, in and out of footprints, sand ripples and leaves. Pugalarasan keeps backing into the sea, and they follow him, crawling on and on till, one by one, the sea sweeps in and sweeps them back with it.
