Chapter 12 Leatherback

Doris said, “Endangered means it’s in danger, and if we don’t save it there won’t be any for my kids to see.”

Two weeks before the storm...

“Is that turtle going to die?” Doris asked.

“Not if we can help it.” I answered as confidently as I could. I’d seen worse that had pulled through, but there were no guarantees. Globally, nine out of ten turtle rescues died. Our fleet had a better record, but we had all the advantages I could arrange.

“What kind of turtle is that?” Doris craned over the railing to get a better look. I kept my left hand on the safety line clipped to her float vest, and my right hand wrapped firmly around the railing. The marine animal alarms had got everyone excited, but safety came first.

“I believe that’s a leatherback. We’re going to work especially hard to keep it alive because it’s critically endangered. Has your mother talked with you about what that means?”

Doris nodded vigorously. “Endangered means it’s in danger, and if we don’t save it there won’t be any for my kids to see.”

“That’s right. We need to save this one so she can have babies, and her babies can have babies, so there will still be leatherbacks when you have kids of your own, and I’m even older than I am now.” This last with a resigned sigh.

Doris giggled, which was my intent. Too much talk of death wasn’t good for anyone.

“What’s Mommy doing now?”

Amanda and Constantin positioned the rescue inflatable beside the ensnared turtle, gently pressing the animal against the Steinmetz’s starboard intake scuppers so it would not sink and drown. It was a delicate balance of keeping the turtle alive without pressing so hard as to do further injury.

“They have to look at the turtle first, to make sure what they do to rescue it doesn’t hurt it worse by accident.” Unfortunately, the turtle didn’t understand that, and continued to struggle. Fortunately, that struggle signaled life and health and better odds for survival.

“What’s it stuck in?”

“Looks like a fishing net. That’s the usual direct cause.”

“I can see the net. I meant those long black things.”

“Oh. The turtle isn’t stuck in those; it’s just resting on top of them. Those are the rake fingers for the intake scuppers. As soon as they felt the turtle, they shut down the rake movement for that section. See the rake fingers in the next section, that are still moving?”

Doris leaned further out of the waterline access door and made as if to climb the railing for a better view.

“Feet on the deck, please, Doris. Your mother would be annoyed with me if you went swimming just now.”

“Alright.” Doris stuck her head between the top and middle pipes of the railing and peered forward along the outer hull. “I see those finger things moving over there. What are they doing?”

“The rake fingers pick out the biggest pieces of trash and pass them along to sorting and recycling. That keeps the filter intakes clear for the tiny stuff to go through.”

“What about fish?”

“Good question. We don’t want to suck in anything that’s alive, so the rake fingers, the intake scuppers, and the other filters push back out anything like fish or turtles or dolphins.”

“What about krill?” Doris looked up at me with a challenging scowl.

“Oh, that’s a tough one! Krill are so small that it’s really difficult to sort them from the smaller bits of plastic. We have special krill filters that look at everything in that size range, and flush back out the live krill. Building those krill filters was hard to do.”

“So why did you do it?”

“Sometimes the hard things are the ones worth doing. Like what your mother and Dr. Delmare are doing now.”

We turned back to watch the two marine biologists struggle to maneuver the entrapped turtle into the rescue inflatable. This was an adult leatherback, and probably massed close to that of either of the scientists. When they had the animal aboard, they collapsed to either side of it and shared a broad smile, Conn dimpling and Amanda laughing.

“Mommy’s happy!” Doris exclaimed.

I wondered why Doris seemed so surprised. Had happiness become so rare for Amanda?

Conn piloted the inflatable under the hoist while Amanda continued to examine the leatherback. Their smiles lingered.

“Is she going to lose that flipper?” Conn hovered over Amanda’s shoulder.

“Mmm. I think we can save it. The net has cut through the skin and into muscle, but not to the bone; all the phalanges seem intact, and the inflammation isn’t too severe yet. If we can extract the net without further damage, a little debridement, a stitch-up, and antibiotics should do the trick.” Amanda reached for a pair of long-nosed forceps from the tray Conn held.

I finished unbuckling Doris’s float vest. She shrugged out of it and I hung it up, then helped her onto a stepstool so she could look over her mother’s head. I held a finger to my lips, and Doris nodded emphatically. Amanda usually let Doris watch if she was quiet.

The Steinmetz’s marine veterinary clinic was as well-equipped as my support and Constantin Delmare’s attentions could make it over the last decade. We had every diagnostic and therapeutic tool and substance known to marine science, and had created some of them right here.

“Conn, follow along behind me and pick out any debris I’ve missed.” Amanda was intent on removing the net strands from the leatherback’s flesh with as little damage as possible. The woven plastic could still shed fibers into the tissues, each one a site for infection.

Conn put on a set of magnifiers like Amanda’s and leaned in to inspect her work. He picked up a pair of even smaller forceps and began gently probing the wound. “Looks pretty clean so far. The muscle appears mostly intact, but it’s going to take some time to heal before she can be released if we want her to have the best chances.”

Most importantly for our current patient, we had holding tanks where we could closely regulate every variable, including keeping the turtle fed and hydrated while preventing it from drowning or further injuring itself.

Amanda said, “She’ll be fine. This one has been a mama many times over, and I’ve seen leatherbacks with three flippers going up and down the nesting beaches. She’ll be fine.”

Two hours later the leatherback turtle rested comfortably in a recovery tank, net removed, wounds stitched, and antibiotics started. The four of us ate off trays Cookie sent down; the best cooks anticipate.

Jake stuck his head in the door and looked around at the four of us. “Ah, there you are. I’m going to grab some lunch.” And without even a glance at the turtle in the tank, he was gone again.

We looked at each other. No one else raised an eyebrow. I didn’t think it was my place to comment on Jake’s behavior.

Amanda said, “We’ll have to monitor her around the clock until we’re sure she’s out of danger.” As if Jake hadn’t been there at all.

“Take it in shifts. I have a lot of work I can do here as well as anywhere. At least it’s quiet.” Conn poked at his tray.

Amanda and Conn looked tired. Doris looked ready for a nap, and I felt that way. There were smiles all round, because we’d saved a turtle, and that was a good day’s work by any sane measure. Doris looked up at her mother, dark eyes met, and Doris dimpled briefly at some secret message.

I just missed something there, but could not figure out what.