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Series of Initial Training Articles
Marine Debris Shore Ain’t Pretty
The Continuing Saga of Matagorda Peninsula Turtle Patrol
When It Rains It Pours!—Matagorda Peninsula Turtle Patrol News
Turtle Patrol Heaven—Matagorda Island Turtle Patrol News
Series of Initial Training Articles
Brigid and Allan Berger of the Class of 2007 are writing a series of articles capturing what happens at the initial training sessions new members go through, complete with photos by Brigid. The articles will eventually all be linked to the training schedule, so people who may be interested in joining our Chapter can get a clearer idea of what the training is like.
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Mid-Coast Ecology at Aransas National Wildlife Refuge |
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Upland Ecology at Welder Wildlife Refuge |
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Interpretation training at McFaddin Ranch |
Marine Debris Shore Ain’t Pretty
by Tracie Teague, Certified Texas Master Naturalist
Several of our chapter members have been quite busy along our coastline patrolling for sea turtles, collecting phytoplankton samples, or teaching education programs, and all of us have been disturbed by the amount of Marine Debris that washes up on shore.
If you have ever patrolled with me, you’ve heard me complain—sometimes using words that would make sailors blush—about the floats, milk crates, buckets, nets, traps, and (insert your favorite expletive) hardhats spread across the sand. I half-heartedly joke about being able to support Sea Turtle Programs with the vast mountains of beer cans left behind by all the extremely thirsty visitors. After each patrol, I would feel guilty leaving all that mess on the beach. I don’t know why, but the hardhats irritated me even more than swarming bugs biting my nevermind.
At the time, sea turtles were on my brain, so I was able to repress the visions of hardhats scattered along the beach, but now that things have slowed down a bit, I can’t seem to get the hardhats out of my head. Waking up in the middle of the night with dreams of brightly bouncing hardhats chasing you is not very pleasant, to say the least. But what to do with all this debris even if we did pick it up? Wouldn’t it then just end up in the landfill?
So I thought, and thought, and thought some more. I had a lot of time to think due to so many sleepless nights—stupid hardhats—and wondered what could be done with this debris that wouldn’t just take a problem from one area and dump (pardon the pun) it in another. Aha, a light bulb went off! Not just any light bulb but one of the gazillion fluorescent ones that litter the beach alongside the hardhats! Can these items be recycled? The hardhats, crates, and buckets are plastic, after all.
Seems like an easy solution, doesn’t it? Well, turns out it took three days of emails and phone calls, but I finally got an answer, YES, they are all recyclable. Kelly Coleman, TCEQ Clean Texas Coordinator, sent this link, www.1800cleanup.org, which allows you to search by zip code and type of material to be recycled and find a place where you can recycle beach debris.
Even if you are not plagued by obnoxious hardhats, this site might come in handy for whatever it is that you just can’t seem to get rid of. Meanwhile, if you happen upon one of those vile hardhats, please take the time to toss it in the recycle bin. I really need a good night's rest.
Note: Tracie is working on a plan for a Chapter project that will educate the public about recycling beach debris and the same time reduce the number of hardhats in her dreams.
The Continuing Saga of Matagorda Peninsula Turtle Patrol
By Tracie Teague, Certified Texas Master Naturalist
After the excitement with Sunny (see When it Rains it Pours), I thought, "Well, this is it; there is no chance of one person having this much luck and it continuing." Friday, May 25, a call came about 1 pm from Keith. There were tracks at Bryan Beach, 2.8 miles down where the beach gets narrow and rough. I was out the door and leaving a yellow streak before Keith could finish. The path to the tracks was indeed narrow and the sand very soft; Keith was worried we couldn’t make it. Silly man, he didn’t realize nothing could come between me and my turtles, especially a little salt water and sand.
The tracks were beautiful, although crossed by several cars, and the nest was picture perfect. Keith excavated 105 eggs from the nest. This was the first nest in our zone and the first nest ever documented on Bryan Beach. And I got to be there!
When It Rains It Pours!
By Tracie Teague, Certified Texas Master Naturalist
I kind of “lucked” into Sea Turtle Patrol. In 2006, The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Mid-Coast Refuge Complex announced an opportunity to become trained for endangered sea turtle patrols at Matagorda Peninsula and Sargent Beach. A volunteer opportunity at the beach looking for endangered Kemp's ridley sea turtles! I never dreamed I would be so lucky. That summer I was just able to get my feet wet. I was really looking forward to this summer. Katie bar the door, I was gonna get me a turtle!
I volunteered to help Keith Ramos, San Bernard Refuge, organize volunteers for Matagorda Peninsula. Mid-Coast TMN members really stepped up, but we had some logistical problems which got us off to a slow start. However, I had made a solemn vow to be on the beach every day I could possibly manage it. So once a week, I patrolled in Galveston for Dr. Landry’s graduate student, Christi Hughes, and when I wasn’t in Galveston, I was patrolling the beaches in Brazoria County.
When we finally got Matagorda Peninsula logistics worked out to some degree, we hit the ground running. During May, we have managed to patrol quite frequently, and just ask any of the volunteers who work this beach; the Upper Peninsula is a temperamental beach, ranging from a kidney-shaker to a serene oasis.
After patrolling for over 700 miles in three counties, this was my situation—turtles had been found south of me and north of me; sometimes the day before I patrolled; sometimes the day after. To say the least, I was getting a little discouraged, and then it got worse—I found a turtle with its flippers removed and its neck cut.
Then on patrol with Ron Sawyer, Mid-Coast Class 2007, we thought the beach had decided to play nice. The tide was low and the water was like glass—clear and smooth. Granted, not the best day for turtles, since they like to come ashore to nest when it's windy, but at least we could patrol with relative ease. We made it to the end of the 22.5 mile drive and noticed a dark cloud looming in the distance. We tried to get ahead of it, but all of a sudden we were caught in a deluge. Rain came from one direction and then the other, and of course we were both without rain gear. By the time we had driven the 22.5 miles back we were cold, shivering, wet blobs. That was on May 11. I was ready to throw in the wringing-wet towel.
Mother’s Day, I was getting caught up on all my unattended housework, still in a glum mood (okay, I was pouting), when the phone rang. Keith had to respond to an "incident-caught" sea turtle and needed me to meet him with the kit at Sargent. Boom, my yellow mustang was flying down the road.
The turtle was fine and turned out to be a young green sea turtle. Still, I was so excited to see a turtle alive and well! Keith tagged the little guy, and I set him free. Then the fisherman reported he had seen a large turtle crawl up the beach and dig a hole a few days earlier. He hadn't known that he could help by calling 1-866-TURTLE-5 to report from anywhere along the Texas coast. Needless to say, we went nest hunting until it got dark, and then the next day we went at it again. We could not locate a nest, but still a glimmer of hope began to shine once more.
Two days later, Keith was called to respond to a nest in Surfside. The Yellow Peril made it just as the 22nd egg was removed from the clutch of 110. I was ecstatic. I saw the tracks and the eggs! I was once again determined to keep going. After all, many people never get to see tracks, much less eggs.
The next morning there was an email from Christi Hughes inviting us to watch the release of two satellite-tagged nesters that day—I was a blur of yellow all the way to Galveston. I helped load and unload the first large turtle and watched as she headed straight to the water—her antenna seeming to wave a little goodbye as she swam away. Just as we arrived back, there was a call—a turtle was on the beach.
When we got there, she was still on her nest! She raised her head up and gave a sigh of relief that I had finally arrived (I know she was just breathing but hey, this is my story!). Then she began to rock back and forth, her flippers thumping as loud as my heart. She continued to “dance” and as she patted, she turned a little, and patted some more. When she was finally content that the nest was sufficiently packed she headed toward the sea. Christi instructed me to hold her before she got to the water line, so the others could see her tracks and Christi could get the box ready. As I knelt face to face with this magnificent creature, I suddenly realized my eyes were watering. Of course, it was really windy, and there was an awful lot of sand blowing in my face.
Christi and I loaded her up so she could get fitted for a satellite tag. Her nest contained 90 eggs. The little girl who helped keep count named her Sunny.
The moral to this story is that when it rains, it pours, but after the rain you get Sunny!!
Turtle Patrol Heaven
by Andy Smith, June 9, 2007
“Andy, drop that turtle and come get this other one before she gets to the water!” Donna McKinney shouted hysterically as she held the mic preparing to call Chad to ask what to do with the juvenile Green turtle we had just found stranded in the Sargassum. I looked up, expecting to see another stranded Green, and had to blink a couple of times to believe my eyes. There, crawling determinedly toward the surf was an adult Kemp's, obviously just off her nest. I quickly placed the little Green in a corral of seaweed and ran to intercept the Kemp's while Donna composed herself to complete the call to Aransas Base, now with more news for Chad Stinson, our favorite U.S. Fish & Wildlife biologist.
Donna and I had just resumed patrolling after checking the nest at Mile 15 when we saw the tracks of the juvenile Green at about Mile 15.2. We were near the water, on the smooth, damp sand of the forebeach when we spotted the Green’s tracks, which looked like they were made by a child’s toy bulldozer and not at all like an adult Kemp's. The flipper marks were very closely spaced, and the width and appearance of the tracks was about like the tread of a wide truck tire.
But back to that Kemp's we were struggling to restrain…
After completing her call, Donna began marking the tracks and nest site as I continued to discourage mama from her trip back to sea. About the time Donna finished her task, Kris Kirkwood and Sandra Gay arrived to help. We had met them at Mile 14, less than an hour earlier, and stopped together for lunch and to compare notes. We had come up from the south; they were headed back from the north and, as luck would have it, had driven right by this site probably no more than 15 minutes before our female had crawled up from the surf. If we had all slept a little later that morning, Sandra and Kris would be telling this story!
With everyone helping, we examined our turtle for tags but found none. We tagged her with a metal tag, injected the PIT tag, took a tissue sample, measured turtle and tracks, and then broke out the fencing to build her a corral and wait for Chad. The corral works well, although the turtle must still be monitored closely to ensure she doesn’t get a flipper or beak caught or damaged on the wire. We recommend that we carry a small tarp or old sheet in each Kubota to make a shade over the corral. I found an old, triangular channel day-mark of half-inch plywood that we placed over the top of the corral, and the turtle was not only cooler; she seemed to calm somewhat and not work as hard to get out. We also kept a wet towel on her back and frequently poured seawater over her. (Another note: carry a towel in each Kubota.)
Chad finally arrived and gave the okay to release the turtle. I’m almost positive she looked briefly back and muttered something unprintable from the surf when she finally reached it. Has anyone else observed that behavior?
With his usual consummate skill, Chad probed to find the neck of the nest cavity and soon had the location marked. We got the cooler situated and he began clearing out the sand to extract the eggs. Donna marked down the count with each announcement, “Egg” from Chad, while I held the cover to shade the slowly filling cooler, a task for which I am now certified. Sandra and I had found two nests earlier in the week, each with 112 eggs, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if this one contained the same number—some kind of weird anomaly in the law of averages for Matagorda Island—but there turned out to be 104 in this nest. One of the eggs was the size of a marble instead of a ping-pong ball. I told Chad that one would probably hatch to be a red-eared slider, and he thanked me for sharing my biological acumen.
Now, you might think when we loaded Chad and Jeff the Fire-Team Guy who came to assist, along with the egg box and the juvenile green in the Kubota and I began driving this menagerie the six miles back to the access at Mile 21 where they left their truck on Middle Road, that this pretty much ends the story. But you would be wrong.
Not five minutes after heading up the beach, I saw more juvenile turtle tracks. I pointed them out to Chad, stopped the ATV, and we began searching along the tracks. In a minute I held a Green turtle and a minute later Chad had another. And somewhere in there we found a dead juvenile Green. In fact I’m not sure I’m remembering correctly all the turtles we found. I think we ended up with three live Greens in milk crates when we made it back to the truck. You know how it is when you find so many turtles that you lose count, right?
Just as an aside, a long, 2-to-3 foot “levee” of Sargassum ran along the waterline of the beach and the juvenile turtles, though still strong, seemed unable to climb over that to reach the surf. We saw several large sharks in the first gut off the beach and wondered if they were catching turtles. Chad says that even though the turtles appear strong and healthy, that they should be removed because they simply strand repeatedly when placed back in the surf. Either that or they become a shark’s dinner, I figured.
Okay, this time if you think that’s the end of the story, you’re almost right. We didn’t find any more turtles that day. However, Adolfo Cantu, our USFW caregiver, had asked if we wanted to stay an extra day on the island, and since no authority figure had specifically said we couldn’t do that, and since Donna had brought that delicious casserole that was only half gone, and since Sandra had enough bagged fruit and fancy cookies to feed Coxey’s army, and since Kris wasn’t quite out of fresh tomatoes, that’s what we did. (I, myself, had a crust of bread and half a boiled egg, but had been practicing my pitiful, hang-dog look, and was confident I wouldn’t go hungry.)
The next morning, we made a long run up Middle Road to the Mile 21 access road (now named Flower Road by Sandra Gay) to get quickly to the north end of the island. At about 8:30, Donna and I found another nest—number four for the week! This one was at Mile 22.7 and was very low on the beach, obviously from the previous afternoon, and just above the old Sargassum. In fact because it was so close to the Sargassum and because the tide had been high during the night, there were almost no tracks. I spotted the disturbed sand of the nest only because we were driving very near and just inland of the thick wrack of Sargassum. Most of the old Kubota tracks were considerably farther inland than that, and anyone driving there would have missed this nest. In fact anyone driving where we were who didn’t have a turtle angel on his shoulder and who wasn’t wearing his lucky shirt or who happened to blink at the wrong moment would have missed this nest. But the real reason we found it was due to the turtle patrol boot camp I endured under the watchful eye of Ray Kirkwood.
“Get closer to the Sargassum, down toward the water,” Ray would growl at me as I patrolled with him two weeks before and we were forced high on the beach. Frustrated, I certainly would have turned the wheel of the Kubota over to this turtle-patrol gunnery sergeant, except for the fact that he had one arm in a sling and there was no way he could drive and hold on at the same time. So I drove the whole week, thinking often of the movie, “Driving Miss Daisy” and bemoaning my fate. But like Marine Corps recruits, by the end of the training, I was ready. And like them, I grew to respect and appreciate my drill instructor. Thank you, Ray. I hope we patrol together again soon.
After marking the nest, Donna and I continued patrolling while awaiting Chad. Back at Mile 16, we came upon more juvenile turtle tracks. This time I followed them to a 10-inch long Hawksbill in the Sargassum. She seemed in good shape and had a beautifully colored carapace. Donna soon found another juvenile Green turtle. And then, as we watched Sandra and Kris approach from the south, we saw them stop on the beach and knew they had come across another.
So when Chad arrived and excavated our nest, in addition to the 107 eggs he took back, there was a Hawksbill and two Greens heading for the ARK rehab facility in Port Aransas. We are very hopeful that all the juvenile turtles survive and are successfully returned to their home in the sea.
Now, you might assume I named this story because of all the luck we had finding nests, encountering the Kemp's, and saving stranded juveniles. Well, maybe. But don’t forget I was the only male patroller that week with three gracious ladies who shared their food and never complained about my driving—not as far as I know, anyway. That had something to do with it, too!
Webmaster Note: Andy is not yet a Texas Master Naturalist member. We are working on him, though.
A Busy Day—Rehab and Rescue
by David Clayton, Certified Texas Master Naturalist
Sometimes as Mid-Coast Master Naturalist volunteers, our days do not go quite the way we plan. Annie and I had a day like that on January 7th of this year.
A manatee had been found in the port area of Corpus Christi and brought to the Sea Lab there to be cared for and evaluated. The Texas Marine Mammal Stranding Network then assumed the job of handling this marvelous animal. Since we had volunteered in the past working with dolphins in rehabilitation, we were called and asked to help out on that Sunday.
We set off early that morning to reach the Sea Lab in time for our shift. Much of the time spent with marine mammals in rehab involves monitoring things like the tank conditions, animal respirations, vocalizations, and so on. For the first hour or so we were there “Dennis,” as he had been named, was pretty sedate. The next three hours were spent following him around the large tank as he moved. That wasn’t as easy a duty as it sounds. It meant lots of climbing around pipes, pumps, cords, and platforms—not to mention dealing with the tarps covering the tank to help keep the water warm. By the time our four-hour shift had ended, we were tired. (I hope someone else who knows the full story of how Dennis was handled will write about that.)
We set off for home, Port Lavaca, but before we had gone very far, we got a phone call that meant the first change of direction for our day. Penny and Rolf Hong (Mid-Coast chapter class of 2003) had just netted an injured cormorant out of the water in front of their home in Rockport. They knew we had done injured bird transports many times and asked if we could come pick up that bird. We agreed and set our course for Canoe Lake in Rockport.
Sadly, the cormorant had suffered a very serious injury and had died by the time we arrived. The wound on the bird's upper back appeared to have been inflicted by a large beak. I thought at first that perhaps the cormorant had somehow gotten into a conflict with a great blue heron. I had no idea what else might have caused such a large, deep stab wound. Penny had the answer the next day when she observed a number of brown pelicans diving into the lake right through a group of swimming cormorants. That seems to be the likely explanation.
Penny and Rolf graciously invited us to join them for lunch. After our meal, as we sat chatting, another call came for us. This time it was our daughter, calling to tell us that a woman on Goose Island needed someone to pick up an injured duck. The staff at Aransas National Wildlife Refuge had referred her to us. We said our farewells to Rolf and Penny and went off in search of the next animal in need.
With only one wrong turn, we were soon at the house of the lady who was keeping the bird. Her young sons had brought the duck to her, and she knew it needed help. This duck turned out to be a beautiful male Redhead duck. Unfortunately, it was obviously in poor condition. Its breathing was labored and rasping and it appeared to have an eye infection. We assured the family we would get it quickly to someone who would do their best to help.
“Someone,” as it happens, was Janene Adamson, a longtime bird rehabilitator in Victoria. We have transported birds to, and for, Janene for several years now. Janene is fully equipped and licensed to handle most birds. We let her know we were coming with a new patient for her and set off down the road.
The duck took the trip well and remained quiet in a box on our back seat. When we arrived at Janene’s we gave her all the information we had and filled out a short form about the bird and where it was found. Janene determined the duck did have an eye infection, as well as a broken wing and possibly a lung infection. She planned to set the wing and treat it with antibiotics.
When we finally arrived back home, we had been gone twice as long—and driven twice as far—as we had planned that morning. We were tired, but we were pleased that we had been out there once again; experiencing the adventures that can come along for Texas Master Naturalists.