I consider myself an environmentalist. I like the planet I inhabit, and I think taking care of it is important. I recycle. I don't pollute. I steer clear of excessive packaging and wear only faux fur and buy cage-free eggs. I have even installed all of those new "green" light bulbs that don't illuminate a thing but cost twice as much and last 40 years.

And so it really does pain me to admit that I fall short of green when it comes to one green creature.

The sea turtle.

If you've ever vacationed along the coast in the southeast, you know that from April 1-October 1 you are sharing the beach with sea turtles. It's no big deal, there's plenty of room for all of us, and turtle nests are usually corded off so you know where to stay away from. And you should.

But it seems turtles have very early curfews.

Every June, we vacation at a little place on the Gulf of Mexico. We love it--it's our favorite vacation and we spend most of our day enjoying the beach. However, at night, it's a different story.

After sunset, you cannot turn on a light stronger than a 1/4 watt bulb. Flashing too bright of a smile is punishable by imprisonment. This is so that the turtle hatchlings do not become confused by the ambient light and head toward a rogue tiki torch rather than out to sea where they belong. This is also why we are not permitted to leave any obstacles on the beach at night like coolers or children, because the babies need a clear path to the ocean.

Far be it from me to suggest that a process lasting millions of years should be altered because I crave a s'more from a beach campfire. But Turtles, come on…even you must love a good toasted marshmallow from time to time? I know you've got that whole "endangered species" thing going on, but the only thing I see being threatened is me with a hefty fine if I leave a lawn chair in the dunes.

Perhaps we could work out a little more equitable sand time? I would like to suggest a more even beach-sharing venture.

Turtles, you've got an entire 6 months worth of beach darkness in which to do your business. This seems excessive to me. Perhaps you could shorten the duration of your gestational processes to a rainy Monday in early March? That would be great. I mean, is it really so difficult to lay 7-10 nests off-peak?

And speaking of those nests, don't you think they take up a fair amount of prime beach front? Your eggs really aren't all that big to warrant that much space. A cabana bar and a jet ski rental booth would be a much better revenue source.

I know that the whole light thing is a problem for you. Work with me here, Turtles. What about those snazzy sleep masks? We humans use them all of the time when we need to sleep on planes. And then when the hatchlings need to make their way to the sea, you could employ a little tortoise GPS system. It even gives you turn-by-turn directions so you won't turn turtle over my sun umbrella I wouldn't mind leaving sand-side instead of hauling it back and forth to my condo every blessed day.

I can see by that glazed expression in your eyes and that cadre of PETA protestors behind you that not only are you not amused, but you have no intention of altering your nocturnal activities to placate my selfish requests. Your role in the fragile coastal ecosystem goes far beyond anything that my tiny human mind could comprehend, and if I want light after 9 p.m. I am welcome to travel inland to Las Vegas or Alaska.

I may not speak perfect Turtlese, but that middle flipper is perfectly clear: you've drawn the line in both the proverbial and literal sand, and no matter how many clams I spend on my beach vacation, you're not budging and I should just stay the shell off your beach.

Sea Turtles may not be the biggest party animals on the beach, but their fascinating and vital role in our beach ecology is definitely something worth celebrating. Even in the dark.

© 2008 Tracey Henry

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