I have been thinking about International Women’s Day.
At first, it was just a list running through my mind of incredible women working in sea turtle conservation and in marine science and education—Olga, Suzan, Karen, Hedelvy, Niki, Kelly and Kelly, Tonya, Krista, Kayla, Susanna, Julia—to name just a dozen of the many, many I admire and have been privileged to know.
And then it was thinking about our turtles. Right after they hatch, sea turtles scramble over the sand to the ocean. The male turtles never return to land again. So it is only the mature females who come back—hauling themselves laboriously up onto the beach where, if you are lucky like me, you have the chance now and again to sit with them for the two hours it takes for them to dig their nest, lay their eggs, disguise their nest, and then crawl back to the sea.
“The girls” or “my ladies” I’ve heard my friends from nesting beach projects call these turtles with great affection. How important those female turtles are—how much work they are doing, trying to keep their population not just alive, but viable. And these days, against great odds.
When I am there, at the beach with the turtles, I don’t feel the despair of dwindling numbers. I feel the sense of calm and stirring, quiet excitement that comes from bearing witness to something being done that helps. The hope of all those eggs.
Finally, today, I heard from my friend Sergiy, who is tonight sheltering in his basement on the outskirts of Odessa, Ukraine, where Russian bombs are now horrifyingly becoming more insistent.
“Today is a woman’s day in Ukraine,” he texted. “Was able to buy flowers for 52 women who serve in our army. Small thing but you should see how happy they were. Women is a woman even in army.”
There it is again. Nature. Flowers. Signs of a peaceful world reminding us of our humanity.
“We sing and we pray with them together. I will never forget this day. I had so many kisses today.”
I could imagine him relating this part to his wife, Dina, with a chuckle.
And then, “When I came back home, I cried as a child.”
I have no idea what the Ukrainian front outside of Odessa looks like. But I imagine it now with 52 women-soldiers courageously standing watch—doing everything that they can to help—a flower clutched tightly in one hand.
