My first memory of South Padre Island is when I was about six years old. As I opened the car door I knew I was in a remarkable place.

I remember the smell of the soupy gulf air as though it were yesterday.

Aunt Ila walked out of her front door, greeting my family with enthusiasm I had never encountered. Even at my young age, I knew right away that she was a leader, and that she was by no means timid. There at her feet was “Padre,” her faithful daschund. I could hardly wait to explore the virtually desolate island, with seemingly towering sand dunes promising adventure, but exploring would have to wait. Aunt Ila wanted to introduce us to her “kids.”

Later that afternoon, she donned her wetsuit, and drove us in her dune buggy to a bay on the other side of the island, where her kraal was located in the mouth of the bay. It was a long unusual structure that was divided in sections, where different turtles occupied each section.  Aunt Ila had this constructed for protecting the turtles while they were in her care. Ocean water flowed freely through the slats in the protective pens, supplying the turtles with constantly fresh sea water.

Aunt Ila let me know that it was dinner time for the turtles, and before I knew it, I was chest-deep in sea water inside a section of the kraal, and my mission was to feed the occupant. Somewhere in there was a large hungry Kemp’s Ridley swimming slowly underwater. I tried to contain my terror. Floating near me was a board of cork, upon which was freshly cut fish, and my only defense was a pair of tongs to hold the fish to feed the turtle. The Ridley came near the surface, and I extended the fish as far from me as possible, as an offering. I waited nervously for the impending bite.

To my surprise, there was no violent tugging, no frantic flailing of flippers. At first, I thought that the turtle missed the mark, but I looked at the end of the tongs, and the fish was gone. I could see tiny particles of fish forming a small cloud in the water in front of the Ridley’s nose. At that very moment, even at my young age, I understood the fragile grace these creatures possessed, and like an epiphany, understood the magnitude of my Aunt’s accomplishment in helping these beautiful creatures of the sea.

As we drove back to her house after feeding the turtles, I watched her as she shifted gears in her dune buggy.  Her eyes were full of confidence, and a sense of purpose.  At that moment, I realized that I was proud of my aunt for doing something so meaningful with her life, and for having such a zest for living each day to the fullest.

 

by V. Tous, Ila's nephew