Since what family we are born to is a life factor out of our
control, it is an incredible blessing to be a part of one that you would have
chosen, if you’d been given the chance to do so.
Last weekend when my sister and her daughter were heading
out for some surf fishing in the Barrier Islands in Jersey, they came across
one of the local Diamondback Terrapins who had been struck by a
car. Although it looked badly hurt, they could see it was still alive –
so they carefully picked it up while my mom contacted the Wetlands
Institute of Stone Harbor, NJ to see if there was anything they
could do to help.
The Institute is a place my parents took me to many times
throughout my childhood, dedicated to education about and conservation of both
of the local wildlife and ecosystem of the New Jersey Barrier Islands.
They are the people behind numerous local campaigns encouraging visitors to
assist the turtle population when they’re attempting to get across roads or
return horseshoe crabs to the sea when the tide washes them up or flips them
over. I fondly remember many summers learning there about the balance of
life on the islands as they struggled to conserve it against the rising tide of
tourism. This was reflected in my parents teaching us that the dunes were
a natural barrier to protect the land from the tide waters, not a place to be
worn down by our playing on them. In my Mother’s insistence that each and
every turtle we find be given a lift to its intended destination, and my father
teaching me how to properly fish the waters of Ludlam Bay, throwing back every
catch that was so much as a fraction under the keeper limit so as to keep the
population properly sustained.
The people at the Institute gladly offered to take the
injured turtle from my family’s care, so they drove it down to Stone
Harbor. Although my Mom gave them her contact information, she didn't
really expect to hear anything back from them about the patient.
Today, she received the following email:
Dear Mrs. Mair,
We used antibiotic ointment and surgical tape to stabilize
the injuries of the terrapin you brought in on Sunday. It was still
conscious and aware of its surroundings Sunday evening, and we were hoping she
would remain stable until we could transfer her to a veterinarian on
Monday. Sadly, by early Monday morning she had passed away. On the
positive side, we were able to extract 12 eggs from her, and those are
currently in an incubator here at The Wetlands Institute. If all goes
well, they should hatch in late August or early September. The hatchlings
will be then be moved to Stockton College, where they will be given warm
conditions and all the food they want over the winter (we call it
“head-starting”). Next spring the young female terrapins will be released
into the marshes where we hope they will thrive. I’m sorry we couldn’t
save the female you brought in, but rest assured her offspring will be out
there next summer and will hopefully take her place in the breeding population
in a few years.
Director
Coastal Conservation Research Program
The Wetlands Institute
The main reason these animals go into the road and get hit
is because they’re climbing up on land to lay their eggs in dry sand.
When one dies, you don’t just loose the adult but an entire clutch of the next
generation as well.
I was so sad at first, but then so uplifted to discover that
because of my family and the talented and caring staff at the Institute, an
entire nest who would have been lost will survive to become the next
generation. One human nearly took away that chance, but others gave it
back to them again. Come springtime, thanks to the people I love, they’ll
swim, grow, hunt, find mates and one day make their own perilous journey to
begin the cycle anew once more.
Some days, some people make it easier to believe in hope for
us all.
