The cycle begins anew. Olive ridley sea turtles have returned to Thiruvananthapuram, their fragile future resting in the hands of those who care for nature. And the tiny tracks have started etching the sand once more.
For the past two years, the January-to-April period has brought an interesting activity to the beaches of Thiruvananthapuram. A group of marine ecology enthusiasts have been playing kind hosts to visiting turtles, whose nesting season falls during this time.
These beaches have historically been part of the turtles’ nesting circuit. However, strangely, they were hardly spotted for a decade until last year.
“They are among the smallest migratory sea turtles, which are spotted mostly in Odisha. In Kerala, the northern beaches have recorded many sightings, and even large-scale conservation programmes are run by ecology groups,” says Sajan John, a turtle ecologist and head of marine projects at the Wildlife Trust of India (WTI).
“Towards the south, there are intermittent nesting grounds in Kochi, Alappuzha, and Kollam, where conservation efforts are ongoing. But in Thiruvananthapuram, sightings have been rare. We spotted some last year. The last one before that was somewhere in 2014.”
This year, about 100 eggs hatched on Shankhumukham beach a few days ago. More eggs are being cared for by a group of local nature enthusiasts led by fisherman Ajith Shanghumugham, who coordinates WTI’s project to save sharks.
It was Ajith who chanced upon the turtle eggs last year. “We tried to save them. But it was too late. By then, the rains had begun. So all our efforts failed, with the sand turning damp and spoiling the eggs,” he says.
Ajith and his team had relocated the eggs from the beach to a safe spot, protecting them from dampness using plastic sheets and other methods. “We kept watch in turns, sometimes overnight,” he says.
“Often, what happens is that the eggs are stolen, eaten, or simply destroyed. That’s probably why we never even saw the ridleys in Thiruvananthapuram until now. Last year, we were helped by the team that takes care of the turtles on Alappuzha beach. Inspired by their work, we decided to take care of the eggs.”
It was a 45-to-60-day countdown — the time the eggs take to hatch. But as the days passed, they were disheartened to find the eggs getting spoiled one by one as rainwater seeped into the sand, making the nurseries damp. “In the end, we lost them all,” says Ajith.
This year, however, armed with the lessons learned, the team began their watch early. “That was probably our mistake last year — we started late. Moreover, the local people were earlier unaware of conservation efforts,” says Ajith.
“This year, even children have been informing us whenever they spot eggs. Such is the awareness created by last year’s experience. Also, the weather has been dry and warm, making it ideal for nesting and hatching.”
The group has set up two conservation nurseries after spotting a wild nursery under a fishing net, containing about 100 eggs. The hatchlings were released into the sea, and the other eggs were shifted to safe spots in Veli and Shankhumukham.
“There are 126 eggs. We are keeping a close watch,” says Ajith. The forest department is also monitoring the process. “We are also closely watching the activities, as these turtles fall under the Wildlife (Protection) Act,” says Range Officer Harindra Kumar.
According to marine ecologists, the turtles that came to lay eggs here were likely born on these very beaches. They follow a natural pattern called natal homing, where hatchlings return as adults to lay eggs in the same place they were born.
However, the survival rate of these turtles is extremely low. Even though thousands of eggs hatch across India’s coastline, only a handful of the hatchlings make it to adulthood. This low survival rate is one of the reasons why this migratory species is vulnerable, with a 30 per cent population decline over the past 20 years.
Other factors also contribute to the decline of sea turtles, says Prof. A Biju Kumar, head of aquatic biology department at Kerala University. “Poaching, unscientific fishing activities — which, for example, led to the deaths of several turtles last month on the Tamil Nadu coast — marine debris, and so on,” he explains.
“The unscientific construction of curbs along beaches also reduces the slope, preventing turtles from reaching the shore to nest.” Most often, poaching occurs because coastal communities are unaware that marine turtles are protected by wildlife laws, notes WTI’s Sajan. “We cannot ensure their protection once they leave our waters, as regulations vary by country. However, here in India, we can create awareness, fostering empathy for marine life and coastal ecology,” he says.
“This will ultimately benefit the people themselves in the long run. The efforts in Odisha are yielding results, and so are the baby steps being taken in Kerala by groups such as Thanal, Green Roots, and Theeram. The turtle can thus serve as a symbolic species for promoting marine and coastal conservation.”
The baby turtles born on Thiruvananthapuram’s beaches will likely return as adults after years spent in the ocean — years when they are rarely seen, and their journeys remain largely uncharted.
These young turtles receive no parental care, navigating the vast unknown alone. But when they do return, if the Shankhumukham or Veli beaches where they were born have eroded or disappeared, they will face an ecological conundrum.
“Our effort is to preserve their homes — and ours in the process,” says Ajith. “Once they hatch, we will make it a celebration — so that people of Thiruvananthapuram realise the rare richness of nature at their doorstep,” he says.
