Formar poachers to save Lankan turtles
TURTLE CONSERVATION: On a moonlit night, a group of young men huddled
around a green turtle as it dug deep into a beach to lay its eggs.
They could hear the turtle breathing and grunting as it went into a
trancelike state, dropping eggs the size of pingpong balls into a
glistening pile. The men, once the village toughs, stood aside as the
turtle finished, shoveling sand over the nest with its back flippers.
As a teenager, Phushara Weerawarna would have pounced on the nest as
soon as the turtle left, eating some eggs raw and keeping the rest to
sell illegally. Now, he protects the turtle eggs and patrols the beach
to keep would-be poachers at bay.
Weerawarna and more than a dozen other former nest-raiders work for
the Turtle Conservation Project, a local
turtle conservation project fix a satellite data transmitter to a
turtle on the beach in Rekawa (AP)
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group dedicated to safeguarding
the turtle nests of Rekawa beach in southern Sri Lanka, where about
100,000 turtle eggs are buried each year.
“I definitely love them,” said Weerawarna, 27. “We like protecting
them.” This one-mile stretch of sand is one of the country’s most
important nesting grounds for the endangered green turtle, and one of
South Asia’s only beaches where five species of turtle nest.
The group’s community-based conservation philosophy is part of a
worldwide shift toward connecting locals with their environment that
experts say may offer the best chance for protecting endangered species.
Before the project was founded in 1994, the Rekawa nests were
regularly picked clean by poachers who spent nights at the beach
fighting over turtle eggs and drinking coconut liquor. Yet instead of
running the poachers out of town, the turtle experts hired them.
“They were considered to be the lowest of the low,” said Peter
Richardson, a founder and British biologist with the Marine Conservation
Society. “They were the wild boys of the village. It took a leap of
faith.”
That leap has paid off for the turtles, whose hatchlings now make it
to the sea, and it’s paid off for the former poachers.
Siripala Edisuriya poached eggs for 15 years, selling them to tea
shops and market stalls because he couldn’t find other work. Now, he’s a
nest patroller on the night shift.
“It’s hard work but I’m proud of what I do,” he said. As a Buddhist,
he is filled with guilt over his poaching days.
“It was a big sin,” said Edisuriya, the oldest of the group at 59. “I
don’t know how long it will take to pay off that sin. I have to face my
bad karma.”
It took three years for Richardson to convince the men to protect the
nests instead of raid them. There were long talks about conservation and
biology. But it was the offers of steady salaries that won them over.
“It was just about the money to start with, but as the program
developed their status improved,” said Richardson. “They’ve been able to
economically improve their families’ lives.”
It was a rocky transition, one that a few poachers didn’t make. But
most became paid patrollers, earning about 330 Sri Lankan rupees per
shift, and then genuine conservationists.
The number of marine turtles is difficult to pinpoint, but green
turtles are endangered and other species are even more vulnerable, said
Brian Hutchinson, a marine turtle specialist with IUCN World
Conservation Union.
“Overall, the population shows that the species are generally in
decline, so there’s a lot of work to be done, but we’re seeing some
positive steps,” said Hutchinson.
South Asia is especially difficult for turtles because people have
traditionally eaten them and their eggs, and because the region has many
impoverished areas where conservation hasn’t taken root.
AP |