I pinch myself- is this really happening? Can I really be this lucky? Am I finally going on an excursion to Emerald Isle to monitor the nesting behaviors of sea turtles? Me? Molly Thatcher. This is my dream, and it is finally coming true. I tamp down my excitement as I shimmy down the hallway, trying to keep the thrill of it all to a minimum. The last time I was this excited, I ended up peeing my pants like a preschooler in elementary school. Not something I wanted a repeat of, especially today.
Entering the lab, I chuckle at the sight before me. Clara and Gertrude (my best friend and our fifty-year-old female loggerhead sea turtle) are currently locked together in a battle of flippers and arms, and I am pretty sure Gertrude is winning. Clara looks up at me with an expression that says, “Help” and Gertrude looks up at me with an expression that says, “You had better hurry, or I am going to win this battle.” I scurry over to the front flippers, while Clara maneuvers around to the back. My news can wait. This turtle needs tagging and Clara needs a break from this cranky shell.
Gertrude has been with us for the last five years. When she arrived on our shores, she was barely alive, and her front flipper had been wrapped up so tightly in the nets that we were almost positive that it would need to be amputated. But, over the years, she surprised us all, and we are currently getting her ready for her return to the sea, hence the wrestling match I just found her and Clara in. I give Gertrude a look of apology as I grab the needle that holds the PIT (Passive Integrated Transponder) tag that would need to be inserted under the skin on the forflipper for identification in the wild. Slowly, I insert the needle, watching her for signs of distress, until the tag is in place.
“Sorry, old girl, but if you end up getting into trouble again, we need whoever finds you to know who you are.” Patting Gertrude on the head, I put the needle down, reaching for the next piece of equipment going on Gertrude.
“Alright, Clara, the hard part is done. Now we just need to attach the Satellite Transponder to her shell so we can track her as she migrates.” Clara nods her head, holding tight to the turtle’s flippers so that Gertrude won’t flip flop her way off of the table and onto the floor.
With the transmitter attached, we heft Gertie onto the cart, and roll her back to her tank. We will have to watch her for the next few days to ensure the injection site doesn’t become inflamed, but then, back to the ocean she goes.
For the last five years, I have been working for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, also known as the NOAA, as one of their sea turtle biologists, and my mentor, Dr. Kendrig, is finally retiring after being the lead biologist for the department for the last thirty years. Which means that I am finally being given the title of lead sea turtle biologist and will now be taking Dr. Kendrig’s place on the journey to Emerald Isle.
I have only ever assisted the Doctor in the field, and because Kendrig is old school, I will finally be able to use some of the technology I have been raving about, endlessly trying to get the old Dr. to approve the new tech. But now that this is my show, I can do whatever I want, hence my request to put not one, but two transponders on Gertrude, so my team can get every ounce of data from all of the readings that we will get as Gertrude journeys back to her nesting place.
We watch as Gertrude swims off, becoming familiar with her new temporary tank, before making our way back to the lab.
“So… bestie, you will never guess wha–.” My words are cut off as Clara finishes the sentence for me, ruining the moment I had been building up to.
“Let me guess. The bigwigs gave you the position of team lead, and they are sending you to Emerald Isle?” she chimes in.
I watch as a hand settles on her hip, the other motioning toward me.
“How in the heck do you do that, Clara? I swear, you have like a sixth sense or something. I literally cannot keep a secret from you.”
Clara shrugs her shoulders in response. “I don’t know? But you had this look on your face, and it was pretty obvious that you had some really good news. Put that together with the fact that Dr. K announced his retirement last week, and I guess I just assumed that’s what was up.”
“You know what assuming does, don’t you, Clara? It makes an a–,” unable to finish my sentence, the administrator for the NOAA walks into the lab, causing my words to merge into something more appropriate.
“A … hello to you, Mr. Walthers, sir.” I paste on a grin, trying to disguise the fact that I almost swore in front of the man who reports directly to the U.S Secretary of Commerce. “What can I do for you today, sir?”
“Well, first of all, you can wipe that silly smile off of your face, Thatcher. Let me get straight to business.” The smile drops from my face, and I straighten my spine, readying myself for whatever news is coming my way. Have they already changed their minds? Am I already being kicked to the curb? Trying not to let the distress show on my face, Mr. Walthers continues to speak.
“Here is all of the information you will be needing for the visit to Emerald Isle.” Handing me a thick yellow envelope with the words ‘Emerald Isle ‘ written across the top, the general speaks on. “Your grant was accepted, and the money intended for your mission has been transferred to this card.” Another smaller envelope accompanies the larger one, and a giddy excitement wells up inside of me. “Keep your receipts. You will need to turn all of them in so that the finances can be tracked. It is up to you to put together a team here at base camp to help monitor all of the data you will be collecting. You will not be given expenses for a second person on your trip, so ensure that everything is ready before you leave. You have a little over ten weeks to plan out your entire trip, so if I were you, Miss Thatcher, I would get a move on things.” Like a military man exiting the oval office, the general retreats, a clip to his step.
The moment the sound of his boots can no longer be heard, I grab Clara’s hands, and we both jump up and down with excitement. “Looks like I am going to Emerald Isle, Clara! Want to be the team lead on my base team?”
“Oh, hecks to the yes!” I watch as Clara squeals in excitement.
After a few moments of composure, doubled with a couple more hoots and hollers, Clara and I walk back to the lab.
The first thing I need to do is assemble a base team. They will be in charge of organizing all of the data that I will be sending them from Willow Cove. I sit down at my computer, Clara hovering over my shoulder, and pull up an Excel spreadsheet. Lucky for me, spreadsheets are my forte. Organization is a vital piece of who I am. Without it, well… let’s just say that Clara has been front row and center to what happens when things aren’t organized. In the words of Mr. Incredible’s boss, “Not Happy Bob, Not… Happy.”
Clara also happens to love charts, graphs, and lists, so she is perfect for the team lead position at base camp.
“Hey Clara, what do you think about Bryan? Should I stick him on the spreadsheets as a candidate for the base camp team?” I hover my fingers over the keys, waiting for her response.
“Uh, maybe? Go ahead and put him down as a tentative candidate. He tried to call me out on one of my readings last week, and I’m not so sure I want someone on the team who second-guesses his boss.” Shooting me with her fingers, little sounds escape her mouth, nowhere resembling the sound of a gun.
“Um, okie weirdo.” I laugh, shooting guns back with an overly zealous smile on my face. We both break out in laughter, and I thank my lucky stars that I have a friend like Clara to hang with every day.
