| “It must have been a
hawksbill,” said Alejandro Gallo, explaining that the other principal
sea turtle species in the Bay Islands, the loggerhead, generally lays
its eggs on the beach itself.
Gallo followed the tracks through the tangle of bushes until he found
what looked like an undisturbed nest. Satisfied, he retraced his steps
to the water’s edge, scuffing away the dimpled footprints as he went.
It’s now illegal to take turtle eggs, he explained, but it’s better
to remove temptation from a casual passerby.

Gallo, conservationist, youth leader, and former Mr. Honduras, was
midway on a patrol around the island of Utila, off Honduras’ north
coast. As head of the turtle conservation program of the Bay Islands
Conservation Association (BICA), he pays special attention to this swath
of beach, which is a favored nesting area. The beach area is protected
by municipal ordinance and managed by BICA.
Gallo returned to the skiff, which was piloted by BICA President
Antonio Woods. They turned back out to sea, crossing over flats covered
with sea grass and out past the breakers marking the edge of the
world’s second largest barrier reef.
“This reef doesn’s just belong to the islanders, or to Honduras,
but to the whole world,” said Woods. Although he applauded the local
municipality for passing an ordinance to give the reef at least some
measure of protection, he said that the central government must provide
its support to safeguard this fragile ecosystem for the long term.
Nearing the western end of the island, Gallo spotted a small plastic
container bobbing in the waves. He suspected it was marking an illegal
lobster trap. He hauled the line attached to it, only to have it break
as the trap came into view.
Ecological
limits. In contrast to the diversity in the waters
surrounding them, the small size of the islands themselves puts strict
limits on numbers of species they can sustain. Only 13 km long and 4 km
wide, and 80 percent consisting of mangrove swamp, Utila nevertheless
contains areas of intact natural forests and several endemic species of
animals.
One is the Utila iguana (Ctenosaura bakeri), a large—and
to many residents, tasty—reptile considered to be endangered. It too
has its advocates.
A short walk from the center of Utila Town takes a visitor to the
Iguana Station. Primarily supported by German and other European
organizations, the station’s tiny staff and corps of enthusiastic
volunteers run an islandwide program of environmental education while
carrying out captive breeding and research.
Station Director Karsten Gees and a group of volunteers were weighing
and measuring juvenile iguanas, part of an ongoing effort to get the
data needed to design protection measures. He explained that a municipal
ban on hunting in 1995 removed a lot of the pressure on the iguana
population. “But we’re concerned that development is going to reduce
critical habitat,” he said.
The iguanas live in mangrove swamps, which are protected. But the
females lay their eggs in the sandy beaches. Gees would like to buy some
beachfront property for an iguana reserve, but first his group’s
research must provide answers to some critical questions. How much land
will do the job? Are some areas more suitable than others? How well can
iguanas tolerate disturbances, such as passing cars?
Gees applauded the present municipal government’s eagerness to pass
ordinances to protect sensitive terrestrial and marine areas. “But
what about the next mayor?” he asked. For safeguards to be real, he
says, the central government must guarantee their protected status on
into the future. |