Devoted Reptilian Mothers

Trivia time: what's the best way to start off a trip to Tortuguero National Park? A good ol' rush of cortisol pumping through the body. That was a joke, for anyone having issues detecting my cyber sarcasm. I understand that they adhere to a different schedule here, Tico time (that is to say, arriving fifteen minutes is the norm). However, when the travel agency through which I booked my tour tells me to be somewhere at 6, I'm not going to risk it. So there we were, waiting at 5:50 AM. 6 rolls by, nothing. 6:15, the anxiety begins to set in, 6:20, I'm on the verge of a panic attack. Finally, the tour company arrived at 6:30. A foul mood instantly befell me. It was only after the five hour journey to my hotel that my spirits lifted and my woes poured in the form of sweat from my skin's new exposure to humidity. 

Tortuguero National Park houses good mothers and mothers that would immediately bring social services banging on their doors. The former- the green sea turtle. What a woman. Witnessing first hand just what they go through to bring life into the world gave me a memory to hopefully calm me down as I dig my nails into my future husband's hand as I'm in labor. After swimming mile after mile to reach the beach on which they were born, they scuttle slowly and discreetly about 100 feet up the shore, dig a nest for their enormous reptilian bodies, and only then does the real work begin. Crossing her metaphorical fingers that a jaguar or poacher doesn't rip her exposed head and flippers off in the process, Miss Sea Turtle lays a good 100 or so eggs deep in a hole she dug with her drill-shaped tail. This lasts about 45 minutes and to witness it in real life fills you with an emotion that no nature special could dream of capturing. After the egg laying, she spends at least an hour flopping about to bury the eggs to really try and deter predators from eating her young. She flops about and all wanted to do was help her- ease the process along, and all. We were instructed specifically not to. Eventually, she charged on out of there like a greyhound from its box at the start of he race and rushed as fast as her flippers would carry her back to the ominous dark waves.  

This reptilian Mom of the year repeats this process four to five times a year. Thankfully for her and the male, she has a special sperm-storage pocket so consummation only need occur once. I say thankfully for the male because if it doesn't kill him, it severely weakens him. In these four to five egg laying sessions, she deposits about 500 eggs. Guess how many survive? If her intense amount of work didn't bring tears to your eyes, perhaps the fact that only 1% of every 1000 baby turtles survives. Now that is one depressing, Zoloft-inducing statistic. 

This hard-working lady was on her way back from hours of work when she was mauled by a jaguar. Now she is a rotting carcass serving as potential for vulture food. Sad.

The bad momma? I forget the scientific name of the bird, but she is better known in Costa Rica as "la mala chica" or, the bad girl. She's earned this name by making a nest, laying her eggs, and bouncing outta there, leaving the papa in charge. All the feminists on the boat tour hooted and hollered their appraisal at this fact- you go, girl!

I don't have kids! I'm off for cosmos with the ladies