Sandy Point NWR: It’s Not About Us

In the US, the National Wildlife Refuge system is unique. Unlike National Parks, National Recreation Areas, and National Forests—all of which have missions centered on human uses of the land—National Wildlife Refuges are, in the agency’s words, set aside “for the conservation, management and, where appropriate, restoration of fish, wildlife and plant resources and their habitats.”

In other words, National Wildlife Refuges are not for us. They’re for all the other creatures with which we share this planet.

Right now, I happen to be staying just a quarter-mile from Sandy Point National Wildlife Refuge, a 383-acre preserve just south of Frederiksted, St. Croix. Sandy Point is one of 177 refuges that include sections of coastline—in this case, gorgeous Caribbean coastline.

Unlike most of the beaches in the US Virgin Islands, this one has no structures and no tourist amenities. For two miles, this coastal property is home only to sand, plants, and animals. In fact, humans aren’t even allowed to visit it between mid-April and August.

So, what’s going on at Sandy Point?

In short, leatherback turtles. The refuge was established in 1984 expressly for their preservation. Listed as endangered since 1970, leatherbacks are the world’s largest turtle. They range from four to nine feet long and can weigh an average of 900-1000 pounds (the heaviest one on record weighed in at just over 2000 pounds). They are the only sea turtle without a shell. In its place, they have a more flexible leathery external layer that allows their lungs to expand—a critical adaptation for diving to 3000’, a depths they have been known to reach while foraging.

Leatherback turtles also have the largest range of reptile in the world—or at least, they have in the past. Their range is decreasing along with their population numbers.

Their main threats are egg consumption (largely by humans), bycatch (being caught in fishing nets), and the disappearance of nesting habitat. Leatherbacks nest on tropical and subtropical beaches, like the two miles of sand and mangrove forest that Sandy Point National Wildlife Refuge preserves.

And, indeed, preserving this habitat for leatherback nesting (primarily; the more common hawksbill and green turtles nest there too) is the mission of the refuge.

During nesting season (in St. Croix, this is mid-April through August), females come to shore at night to dig a pit in which to lay their eggs. They lay a handful clutches per season, each with about 100 eggs. Those eggs need to be incubated for two months. Then, once the baby turtles hatch, their 50-yard journey from the nest to the ocean can be treacherous thanks to the presence of eager predators. It’s a challenging process no matter how you look at it.

Leatherbacks nesting at Sandy Point do get some human assistance these days. The refuge staff and their cadre of volunteers tag turtles, monitor nests, and relocate them when necessary. Beach patrols occur regularly throughout the year, and all of the streetlamps along the road to the refuge have red light bulbs, which don’t confuse nesting turtles the way white lights do.

There are a few other rules out there, too. Visitors to the refuge cannot stake anything (like umbrellas) into the ground within the boundaries of the refuge. The gate that allows access to the road and the three beaches coming off of it is only open on weekends. There’s no shade, and there are no facilities. These facts reinforce the idea that this beach is not designed for us.

I love this. I love knowing that one of the longest sandy stretches in the Caribbean is set aside for sea turtles.

And I love walking on it when I can. I love its emptiness and its lack of spectacle. I love how I can look down the length of it and see nothing but mangroves, sand, and water. And I love knowing that I am only a visitor there; that I am welcome there for a couple of hours, but not much more.

While I’m walking or running in the refuge, I invariably spend time thinking about what the Caribbean was like back when all beaches still looked more or less like this—before we tore down the native vegetation to build all-inclusive hotels, before we reinforced the sand with concrete and rebar, before we sent all the beach-dwelling creatures away to find new homes and nesting grounds.

We’ve given 383 acres back to them. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

I have never seen a leatherback turtle in the wild, and given their dwindling numbers, I may never. And that’s okay. They have been around the planet for 150 million years; they survived the extinction of the dinosaurs. I’m hoping we can help them last even longer.