Chapter Two
Continuingto spar back and forth for the rest of the day, I collaborate with Clara on spreadsheets, taking breaks every so often to take readings on the sea turtles in their tanks. Currently there are five turtles in the tanks, and each of them have specific measurements that need to be logged every day. Gertrude seems to be adjusting to her injection like the pro that she is, temperatures are fine and her flippers aren’t swollen or tender where the transponder was placed.
Brooster is the grandpa of the turtles at around 80 years old. He is the rehab center”s fellow resident. He is too old, and was injured too badly to be released back into the wild. Of all of the turtles, Brooster is the most affectionate with me, and every time I approach his tank, he limps his way over, and rubs his head against my leg. Sometimes I just sit and talk to him, like an old silent friend as he snuggles against my body. It will be a sad day in the center when his spirit departs, but I have been preparing myself everyday for the possibility that that will happen.
Frannie and Frank are the leatherback sea turtle twins who had been found together as little hatchlings. They had both crawled into a broken bottle that was wedged into a floating board, and had been trapped for who knows how long. When they arrived at the center, they were dehydrated, and dried out, and their plastrons (the underside of their shells) were both cracked and bleeding, most likely from the sharp edges of the bottle catching on their undersides as they climbed inside for shelter. They have been at the center for two years and are set to release back into the wild once they are large enough and strong enough to survive. Only one in a thousand hatchlings survive to adulthood in the wild, so we are working to give the twins every opportunity to thrive.
Walking over to the tank that is currently holding the rehabilitation center”s newest member, I crouch down to observe Trigger. Trigger is a thirty-year-old male green sea turtle and he is currently at the center for being ”cold stunned’, which is what happens to sea creatures when the temperature in the ocean drops too quickly. This puts them into a hypothermic state and the turtle then becomes stranded and washed ashore, often tangled and lethargic. He is a tricky one, and put up quite the fight when we tried to relocate him. The center’s workers ended up having to sedate him to run their tests and put some fluid into him. Currently, he is giving me the side eye, as though he knows what is coming. I step over the cement barrier, and tiptoe toward him, speaking in calm undertones so that he won’t turn and dive for deeper water. I do not want to have to suit up again, but so far, I have had to every single time. Stubborn turtle.
“It’s okay, Trigger, I just need to take your temperature and check your skin to make sure you aren’t still dehydrated.” With squinting eyes, and a hissing noise directed at me, as if telling me to piss off, he slips into the water, watching me the entire time.“Ah, Crap! That is just grand,Trigger, thank you so much for making my life so much easier.” Throwing my hands up in the air I turn away, yanking my short brown hair up into a ponytail in frustration. I stomp over to the bathroom and grab the smallest wetsuit available, because I”m the shortest one here, while mumbling to myself as I fight and shimmy to get the darn thing on and over my head. Once suited up, I make my way to the office to grab Clara. Clara takes one look at me and slaps her thigh, laughter spilling from her mouth.
“Trigger again, eh? This is the fourth time this week you have had to suit up to get his readings. And we have only had him for a week. The dude hates you,” following me out the door she snorts out another laugh.
It will take the two of us to examine him in the water, and for safety reasons, I feel better having Clara by my side. The last time I attempted to take measurements from Trigger by myself, I had gotten a nice bite from him on my butt, that had hurt like the dickens. I reach down with my hand, absently rubbing the tender spot from a few days earlier as we continue down the hallway. He hadn’t broken skin, but he had left a nasty bruise, one that I would rather not repeat.
Once in the tank room, I hand Clara a suit and hang out with Brooster while I wait for Clara to fight with her wetsuit. Huffing and puffing, Clara rolls her eyes as she wipes the sweat from her forehead. “You would think I have never put one of these on before, girl. The struggle is real. That or I need to lay off the cookies.” Making a squatting motion, we both stretch our suits out so that they fit better.
“I know. We literally wear one every other day. If I could count the number of wedgies I get from my swimsuit underneath, it would probably be in the thousands.” I laugh, as we head for the tank that holds Trigger. Slipping into the water, we lower our masks and peer through the water for movement.
Pointing with my finger, I motion to Clara through the water in Trigger”s direction. We both surface and come up with a plan to capture the feisty turtle.
“Okay, last time, we were able to corner him in the shallow end and drag him out of the water. Let”s try that again.” Grabbing the small net from topside, each holding one end, we kick to opposite ends of the pool. Signaling to each other, we bring the net from one end of the tank to the other, trapping Trigger between the shallow end and the net as we slowly close the gap, hoping he doesn’t decide to dive deep and go under the net. Reaching the shallow end successfully, we herd Trigger onto land and grab his front flippers as he turns his head to snap.
“Haha, gotcha Trigger.” I wink at Clara as we pin him down, take his temperature and grab a sample of his urine to check for dehydration before releasing him. We high-five one another and peel off our wetsuits, hanging them up to dry in the locker rooms.
“Well, that was the last reading for the day. Let’s get outta here. I’ll race you. Last one dressed has to take fecal samples from Trigger tomorrow.” Making our way to the bathrooms, we rinse off and change out of our swimsuits in record time. Emerging first, I pump my fist into the air in victory as we make our way to the truck. “Winner, winner,” I point to myself as I turn the key. “And you know what that means for you.” Pointing to Clara, I stick my tongue out at her like a child.
“You don’t have to be so childish about it, Molly. I know I lost,” she sticks her tongue back out at me in retaliation.
“Oh, I know, but I will, just the same.” I back out of the parking spot and turn onto the parkway, heading for our little beachside house, as I crank the volume on the song selection I picked on my playlist. I look over at Clara, just as the chorus of the song hits, ‘We Are The Champions,’ blaring through the windows, as she drops her hand onto her head.
“Of course you would pick this song. Brat,” and the both of us sing at the top of our lungs the rest of the way home.