Darkness. Darkness everywhere. Darkness and the muffled sound of waves crashing against the beach.
I move. The Eggshell around me is constricting my movements, so I break it open. Immediately, sand rushes through the opening. I shove it away and dig my way to the surface.
It is dark here too, but not as dark as it was underground. Blinking stars and the shining moon illuminate the night.
Around me, dozens, hundreds of my brothers and sisters hatch. We all make our way to the ocean, as fast as we can. But not everyone is fast enough. Ghost crabs attack, seemingly out of nowhere. I run faster and try to ignore the fact that the number of my siblings is dropping steadily.
The ocean! It is finally close. I can see the waves I only heard before, now crashing against the wet sand. With all my remaining energy, I sprint into the water. Finally, I can relax.
A shadow flashes to my left and another one of my siblings vanishes. This time into the mouth of a hungry barracuda. The water isn’t safe either. Scared for my life, I hide in the deep seaweed and wait until it is safer.
So many of my siblings are dead. Eaten by predators. I’m lucky to have survived.
For ten years, I live in the ocean, swimming from here to there, growing up. And then, I finally return to the beach I was born at.
It is as calm as I remembered it. The same stars sparkle over the white sand. But this time, there aren’t hundreds of hatchlings running for their life. This time, the adults have gathered at the shore to mate.
My chosen male doesn’t follow me to the beach after we mated, I go on this journey by myself. Digging the hole, this time the opposite way. 100 eggs land in my nest. How many of them will survive? Will any of them? It is highly unlikely that I will ever meet my children. And even if I meet them, they will not recognize me. And I won’t recognize them.
I bury my children in the sand that will keep them safe for the weeks to come. Hopefully, they’ll get a chance to hatch and won’t be eaten as eggs by any predators. If I could, I would take care of them, but sea turtles don’t do that.
I must abandon them here, all alone, at the mercy of nature. And I will repeat this every few years.
Maybe in a decade or two, I’ll be laying my eggs in the presence of one of my children. We won’t know each other, but we will be together.
I’ll just have to make sure I’ll survive until then.
Sources:
List of Predators of Baby Sea Turtles
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