The Sea Turtles Return!

Amid the mind-boggling pandemic of the Corona Virus (death total in the U.S. at 61,000 on April 30, '20), we welcome a small sign of life as we knew it. With public beaches in Palm Beach County, Florida, still closed and without threat from humans or dogs, nature has provided such a glimpse beneath our windows.

Deserted beach in Delray Beach, Florida, with stakes where turtles have nested

On our three-mile stretch of beach, thousands of female sea turtles return at night to lay their eggs between March 1st and October 31st. In 2017, there were 1077 nests, the highest number ever recorded in our area. It is estimated nearly ninety percent of all sea turtle nesting in the U.S. occurs right here (www.sunny.org/beaches/sea-turtles). This year the turtle stakes have already begun to appear, and experts expect a bumper crop.

We have four species that return to our area: loggerhead, leatherback, green, and hawksbill. Since artificial lighting discourages the females from nesting on the beach, there is an ordinance in Florida (and fine for offenses) that all outside lights must be turned off or inward during nesting season.

The females' tracks are as big as a tractor's tire marks. They dig holes in the sand, lay around one hundred golf-ball size eggs, cover the hole with sand, and spread sand over a large area to disguise the hole. Then they re-enter the water. Although I have seen the track marks in the sand, I have never witnessed the nocturnal nesting.

Incubation will last 45-55 days. The hatchlings use reflections from the moon to find their way down to the water at night. Only one out of a thousand will survive the predators and the tides.

Wheelchair for sick turtles, Juno Beach Turtle Rehab Center, Florida

Sick turtle getting an IV, Juno Beach Turtle Rehab Center, Fl.

A New York Times article by Karen Weintraub (April 17, 2018, pg. D2) reported findings that sea turtles use the earth's magnetic fields to navigate back to within 40-50 miles of where they were born. Each beach has a distinctive magnetic signature, which the turtles find through something called "geomagnetic imprinting." In a study of loggerheads at the U. of North Carolina, Dr. Kenneth Lohmann and J. Roger Brothers determined there was "more genetic similarity among turtles that nest on beaches with similar magnetic signatures than among turtles that nest on beaches physically close to each other."

In our area of beach, a non-profit organization called Sea Turtle Adventures provides daily monitoring of the nests on a three-mile stretch. They stake, relocate nests as needed, and excavate them after hatching. The group also provides documentation and reporting of predation events, offensive artificial lighting during nesting season, and obstructed nesting attempts. It co-ordinates efforts to document and transport dead or injured sea turtles to a rehab facility (such as the Juno Beach Center), and provides annual reports to the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission.

The mounds and orange stakes couldn't be more welcome this year!

May, 2018

My Phobias

I must admit, I have a few phobias.  The one that invades my dreams most frequently is of snakes - and being trapped amid them, as in "Snakes on a Plane."

It probably resulted from growing up with snakes on my parents' property in Connecticut - in the rock wall, on the bank of the brook, in the woods behind our property.  Nowadays I buy a foul-smelling powder which I spread around the foundation of our Massachusetts house.  Since snakes can't see but they can smell, the manufacturer claims the snakes won't go near the powder.  One beautiful July day I found a garter snake taking a snooze on top of the powder!

Another phobia I have is of being trapped underground, although in my imagination asphyxiation would be slow and gradual, almost like falling asleep.  I don't suffer from claustrophobia and have often taken excursions in famous caves and tombs around the world.  I draw the line at exploring the catacombs of Rome, however, where I might become trapped with human heads and bones, or the tunnels under the pyramids of Egypt, where a guide's single candle lights the way and if extinguished, would leave me trapped in a  labyrinth forever.

There's another phobia I have, much less severe - it's of being on a ship and never being able to get off.

Now this might sound like utopia to some, especially if it were a cruise ship.  I know there are millions of travelers who don't want to pack and unpack to move around during a trip, so all they'd have to do is continue to uses the washer and dryer on board year after year. But cruise ships aren't my thing, since I always feel confined and want to explore LAND, not water! I admit that one of the best trips Charley and I have ever taken was through the Galapagos Islands of Ecuador, where the only way to explore the differing flora and fauna of the islands was to travel among them by ship (we had 100 people on board) and disembark on tenders. The only time we spent aboard ship was late afternoon through dinner, lectures, and sleep.  The next morning we were off again to explore completely different terrain and wildlife.

That has been our only experience as a couple on a ship (excluding ferries and cruises around city harbors). It freaks me out to think about possible storms aboard (and nausea!), and how 1000-6000 people would scramble to evacuate in an emergency.

Not to mention the viruses and germs one could pick up from the ventilation system or contaminated food or being isolated without the inability to reach loved ones in an emergency.

I recently read in The Palm Beach Post (March 14, 2016, page E1) about a woman who has chosen to spend eight years living aboard a ship. She is a Florida woman who had taken 89 cruises with her husband before he passed away.  After his death, she sold her home and became a permanent resident on the five-star Crystal cruise ship, Serenity. The twelve-year-old vessel has 655 crew members and Lee Wachtstetter has circled the globe fifteen times on the ship.  Her cruises total four hundred in number.

She rarely goes ashore because she figures she's already been there. Really?  But she sure knows the in's and out's of her ship's hallways and the square-footage of her compartment!  How about exploring NEW alleyways in ports along the route?  She says she loves the quiet when everyone else departs for excursions and spends that time watching a movie, reading, or doing her needlework.

She keeps up with her mail via laptop. Family members visit her when she docks in Miami, sometimes up to five times per year.
I wonder if she would list to starboard if she tried to walk on shore?

And resident Lee Wachtstetter has permanent company on board! Three other women live on the ship, too. They receive nice floral arrangements from the cruise line, occasional shipboard credits, and actual cash rewards upon reaching high-level cruise milestones.

"My daily average cost is $450," says Lee. "It's pricey, but my husband was a good provider."

Crystal Cruises provides dance hosts for passengers traveling alone (there are meet-and-greet cocktail parties).  Her husband didn't like to dance, but now Lee gets all the dancing she wants.

Before living on the Serenity, she lived on a Holland America liner for three years.  She switched when Holland America announced they were stopping the dance host program.

She meets new friends at dinner around a table for eight.  Guess how much weight she's gained?  Twenty-three pounds!  She has begun to order half portions for meals.

She teaches needle work to passengers and gives her work away to crew members, who make every attempt to create a "home" for Lee, even if they have to build it.  One crew member built extra storage shelves for her.  Another made a framed cushioned wall-hanging to hold her earrings.

A former R.N., she rarely has to visit the shipboard doctor.  Once, trying to get rid of a lingering, nasty cold, the ship's doctor advised, "You have laryngitis.  Don't talk."  On a ship?  Was he for real?

Speaking of reality, to each his own.

Let me know your thoughts about your phobias or living aboard a cruise ship by posting in the "Comment" box.

Barefoot Mailmen of Florida

                                                                          

Long, long ago cars did not clog roads on south Florida highways... there were no highways.  Intracoastal bridges did not open every half-hour to access the Atlantic... there was no intracoastal waterway.  Train whistles didn't blow through the night... there was no railroad in south Florida.

Starting in the 1870's, a succession of eleven mailmen WALKED sections of a route from Jupiter (Palm Beach County) to Miami (Dade County) to deliver mail along the east coast.  Each section of the journey took three days.  There was no trail...just beach.  They stayed overnight at Houses of Refuge for ship-wrecked sailors in Delray Beach and Ft. Lauderdale.

The saltwater destroyed their shoes, so they walked barefoot in the packed sand with pants rolled up to their knees.  They battled mosquitos thick as storm clouds, long-snouted razorback hogs, horse flies, and vipers in palmetto roots.

It was a letter's speedier route than the three-to-six-month alternative out of south Florida.  Mail originally went north to Titusville (Kennedy Space Center), where the railroad ended at its southernmost point.  The mail would go all the way to New York by rail, then ride a steamer or schooner to Havana.  Next stop was Key West, then Miami.

Near the lighthouse at Hillsboro (Fla.) Inlet stands a statue of Barefoot Mailman Ed Hamilton.  One story goes that a 'gator caused the mailman's death in 1887, while on duty crossing the mouth of that dangerous Inlet.

Imagine the want ad:  mailman needed with feet like leather, immunity to insect bites, no fear of 'gators or 'canes.

...with thanks to Erika Pesantes for her article, "Runner Takes 'Mailman' Route" in the Sun Sentinel, March 3, 2013; and Reverend Randall Gill, author of Boynton Beach:  Images of America.