Students are abuzz in an air-conditioned classroom at Dauphin Island Sea Lab off the Alabama coast. They’re measuring eight turtles about the size of Eggo waffles, which will soon be released back into their natural habitat.
These turtles are diamondback terrapins, with speckled leathery skin underneath a shell covered in a diamond-like pattern. Their heads often feature distinct spots that resemble a mohawk or a mustache, earning them fitting nicknames.
“Pistachio, because he's got a mustachio,” one student explains.
Fashionable spots aside, diamondback terrapins are known for their personalities.
“The terrapin are charismatic,” said Jenny Estes, a biology professor at the University of Montevallo.
She teaches marine biology classes at the Dauphin Island Sea Lab during the summer. This particular class focuses on the conservation of diamondback terrapins.
Diamondback terrapins are an important part of Alabama’s coastal ecosystem. But their numbers are a fraction of what they were just seventy years ago. In fact, the Alabama Department of Conservation and Natural Resources says the species is at a high risk of extinction. So, scientists are hard at work to boost the population.
Diamondback terrapin 101
This particular species of diamondback terrapin live in the saltwater marshes near Dauphin Island. The area, known as Cedar Point, is where the freshwater meets the sea. The tall grasses protect the terrapins from birds, and the elevated shoreline of broken oyster shells is ideal nesting habitat.
“It's really unique that we have a turtle that's an estuarine species,” Estes said. “They're not a freshwater turtle. They're not a sea turtle. They live in that in-between zone.”
That in-between zone is a crucial part of Alabama’s coastline. The saltwater marsh serves as a protective barrier against hurricanes.
“In order to have [a] healthy marsh ecosystem to protect our coastlines, we have to have terrapin in those ecosystems,” Estes said.
Threats to the diamondback terrapins
Back in the 1800s, an estimated 20,000 diamondback terrapins lived on Cedar Point. Farmers raised the turtles then sold their meat for terrapin stew, a once popular delicacy in the Northeast. Once the dish lost popularity, the terrapins thrived at Cedar Point.
But their population took a huge hit in the 1950s – with the emergence of crab trapping. Estes said terrapins smell the bait in the trap, get stuck inside, and eventually drown. Now, only about 200 terrapins live on Cedar Point.
This drastic population decline concerned some scientists. So in 2004, conservation efforts began to take root in Birmingham.
Blazing new trails at UAB
University of Alabama at Birmingham biology professor Thane Wibbels’ lab is full of young terrapins, jostling around their containers and popping their heads over the top in curiosity.
“Compared to a lot of turtles that are lethargic, terrapins are very active,” Wibbels said as he took a young terrapin out of its container. The turtle scuttled across the room, exploring its new surroundings.
Back in the early 2000s, Wibbels and his colleague, Ken Marion, did not plan on studying diamondback terrapins.
“We were looking for sea turtles,” Wibbels said.
But they kept catching diamondback terrapins in their nets.
After conducting population surveys, they found the terrapins were in very low numbers. So Wibbels and his colleagues started the Alabama Gulf Coast Diamondback Terrapin Working Group. They aim to preserve and restore diamondback terrapin populations near Dauphin Island. Because today, the creatures face new threats.
“If you think about 100 years ago, where you didn't have a lot of development, now you do,” Wibbels said. “And not only is it just development that decreases your habitat, but it also increases pollution.”
With humans comes garbage.
“If the garbage is coming, the raccoons are coming,” Wibbels said.
Raccoons never used to live on Cedar Point. But now they’re one of the main predators of diamondback terrapins. Turtle nests are shallow, so the eggs are a convenient snack for a hungry raccoon.
In recent years, researchers have also seen issues with beach traffic along Highway 193 – the main drive down to Dauphin Island from Mobile.
“They're finding a reasonable number of turtles getting hit by cars,” Wibbels said.
Wibbels and his team try to tackle the threats before a terrapin is born. They collect terrapin eggs from nests at Cedar Point and bring them to hatch in incubators at UAB. Wibbels and his students raise the terrapins until they’re a year old.
Education through rehabilitation
After that, the young turtles move to the McWane Science Center in downtown Birmingham, where they continue to grow in a terrapin nursery. Abby Kelosky is a former student of Wibbels. She now works as an aquarist at McWane, where she helped launch the nursery last year. She said the terrapin exhibit is also about educating the public.
“I hope it just makes people aware of that they're here, that they need help, and how incredible they are,” Kelosky said.
She uses her field research experience from college to help better care for the young terrapins in McWane’s nursery. During their stay, Kelosky and her colleagues carefully track the terrapins’ growth. Once the terrapins turn two to three years old, they are usually large enough to withstand predators like raccoons.
“They're harder to swallow or chew if they are bigger,” Kelosky said.
At that point they’re ready to return to the wild.
Homeward bound
After coming up I-65 as eggs, the young turtles now hitch a ride back south on what the scientists refer to as the “Terrapin Express.” That’s where the education becomes hands-on for the summer students back at the Dauphin Island Sea Lab.
Slathered in sunscreen and bug spray, the students trudge behind Professor Jenny Estes across Cedar Point. It’s a muddy, mile-long walk to the nesting habitat in the unforgiving summer heat. But Estes said the sweaty trek is worth the effort for her students.
“They're going to get experience in these courses that they can't get at their landlocked universities,” Estes said.
The eight terrapins they were measuring earlier wait anxiously in individual buckets. One by one, the students take turns releasing the terrapins into the tidal channel under Estes’ guidance.
Remember Pistachio? A student gently lowers it to the water, culminating with a single plop.
“Now it’s back home in the marsh,” Estes said.
It’s a long journey from the coast to the Magic City and back, but now these diamondback terrapins have a much better chance at getting their happily ever after – thanks to some dedicated Alabama scientists.
