The slam of the car door reverberated in my ears as I headed towards the beach. Sea gulls cried out amidst the roar of the angry swells as the tang of salt water permeated my nose and mouth. The ocean collided with the beach in a cacophony of snarling sand and spray even this late at night. Searching through the colors of shadow and highlight, I found one of my taped-off squares a few feet from me. The soft sand made an odd chirping noise as I traipsed to the turtle nest. The dull ache in my calves was almost normal now, having come out to the beach so many times in past weeks.

The arch in my back resumed its familiar throb as I bent over the caution tape, piercing the earth with my spade with a satisfying crunch. A few minutes later, I was pulling out the first of my nest. The eggs were tough and leathery, but still felt delicate enough to be squashed like a grape if not handled carefully. Breathing heavily, I could even taste the strong aromatic stench of ocean brine as I finished pulling all the eggs from the nest. Slowly straightening, I cradled my bag of little treasures and ghosted across the blanket of sand, off to the research center once again. These eggs were safe from poachers, and the ones I found tomorrow night would be too…