On one of the few sunny days in early summer, before the storms of the Wet began, Blue Eyes took his boat out onto the water. His daughter was getting married, and Blue Eyes was hoping to get a sea turtle for the occasion. It was at his grandmother’s funeral, many years ago, that he learned that sea turtle meat was only eaten at very special occasions and ceremonies. Blue Eyes wasn’t sure how easily he would find one. There were many more jellyfish in the water in recent years, so he knew there were less turtles than there used to be.
There were two other people in the boat. Blue Eyes had invited his son and his nephew along to help him hunt the dhalwatpu, or green sea turtle. The green turtles were always hunted for their meat: because they are herbivores, their meat tasted much better than garun, the loggerhead, or guwarrtji, the hawksbill. Even though the miyapuna were endangered, Blue Eyes still felt it was okay to hunt them, because he respected the marine turtles. It was his right to supply his family with turtle meat on special occasions, just as his ancestors had done. Whenever Blue Eyes hunted, he used every part of the animal he killed. Nothing went to waste. Today, he would catch only a small green sea turtle. He would leave the larger ones be so that they could breed and lay eggs. The small dhalwatpu would feed all of the guests at the wedding. One turtle was all that was needed.
Blue Eyes drove his boat slowly around the bay. It was turtle nesting season, so he knew to be careful and not to disturb any egg-laying female turtles. The tide was low, and the water was clear. The three men looked across the water, watching for turtles surfacing to breathe the air.
“There’s a small one,” Blue Eyes’ son said, pointing. Blue Eyes steered the boat in the direction of his son’s outstretched arm. Keeping his eye on the small turtle, Blue Eyes reached for his wap, or harpoon. The wap was made of thick, heavy wood, but it was still light enough to float in the water. The tip of the wap was made from the gidu tree. String from the bark of the fig tree was hooked onto two barbs carved into the harpoon.
Blue Eyes’ son took over steering the boat as the group got closer to the turtle they had chosen. The turtle swam gracefully away from the boat, but she was diligently and patiently followed. When the moment was right, Blue Eyes threw the wap with speed and accuracy. The tip landed in the shell of the turtle, exactly where Blue Eyes had aimed. Never taking his eyes off the turtle, he tied the string from the fig tree bark to the side of the boat and watched as the turtle continued swimming, more and more slowly as the weight of the boat tired her.
The dhalwatpu swam less than one hundred meters before she was completely tired. Blue Eyes’ son jumped into the water and flipped the turtle onto its back, then brought it close to the side of the boat. Blue Eyes and his nephew pulled it up onto the boat by its rear legs. The turtle was small; Blue Eyes was positive that it was not yet nesting. The turtle would provide a great meal for the wedding, and Blue Eyes was satisfied with the hunt.
As his son climbed back aboard the boat, Blue Eyes heard the loud sound of a boat propeller hitting something. He looked up to see a trawler speeding across the bay. “Shit!” Blue Eyes heard someone yell. “It was a turtle. Should we go back and see if it’s okay?”
But Blue Eyes watched as the boat simply increased its speed across the water. Looking closely, he saw the name painted across the site of the boat in thick black letters: Humble Pine. Whoever was driving the trawler had no concern for the beautiful, endangered animals that had provided for Blue Eyes’ ancestors for generations.
Blue Eyes looked down at the small green turtle he had just caught and then looked out across the water where a turtle had just been hit by the boat motor. Blue Eyes remembered the story his grandfather had told him about the Rainbow Serpent, so many years ago. He wondered where the Rainbow Serpent was now, when a man had just killed a turtle for no reason. The turtle would go to waste; it would not provide for anybody. Blue Eyes had made sure that he chose a small turtle to hunt: one that would feed all his relatives and not go to waste.
But now Blue Eyes understood why the animals were so threatened, not only by Indigenous hunting, but by other human threats. He knew that global climate change was threatening the sea turtles as beaches were being washed away by more extreme tides and storms. But he had never seen the direct impact of a human killing a turtle with no concern for the animal’s numbers in the oceans.
At that moment, Blue Eyes understood that the sea country was not limitless. He had worried before about young Indigenous hunters taking more than they needed or not using traditional methods to hunt the dhalwatpu. But Blue Eyes was disgusted with the fishermen of the Humble Pine, who passed over the turtle as if it were as abundant as cane toads.
As Blue Eyes drove his boat home over the water in the late afternoon sunlight, he thought about ways that he could protect the endangered miyapuna. He wanted his grandchildren to have the same opportunities as he did to hunt the sea turtles for important occasions and celebrations, and he knew that he must play a role in sustainable community management of the species in order to conserve them for the future of his people.
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