One man's mission: To make sure a sought-after turtle lives and 'tortoiseshell' is driven to extinction.
By Christine Stapleton


Sunday, September 18, 2005


Larry Wood's office sits about 100 yards east of the posh shops and investment banks that dot U.S. 1 in the wealthy north end of the county, and about 100 yards west of the Atlantic Ocean — midway between reality and the deep blue sea.


Wood, 38, is the curator at the Marinelife Center in Juno Beach — a small marine research, hospital and rehabilitation center that would earn five stars if Zagat rated elementary school field trips. On any day the place is crawling with wide-eyed kids watching a green moray eel gobble up chunks of fish and squid.

It is the turtles just outside the gift shop, though, that mesmerize the kids, so much so that they stand in silence as the sick and wounded creatures paddle around their private above-ground pools. With the sides of the pools standing about 3 feet, the average preschooler can see eye to eye with the bobbing turtles when they surface for a breath of air.

"Hey, who does this one belong to?" Wood said, pointing to the little girl with big, round, guilty eyes. "She just had her hands in two pools. She won't be counting to 10 on those fingers if a turtle gets a hold of them."

These are the turtles that Floridians know and love. The loggerheads and the greens that come and lay their eggs on local beaches. The turtles that we turn out the lights for. The turtles whose eggs are snatched by poachers for their illusory Viagra-esque properties. The turtles on our license plates.

But it is a species that few landlubbers will ever see — alive — that preoccupies Wood. The hawksbill — eretmochelys imbricata — is a smaller, more exotic turtle with a bill like a hawk and an elegant shell responsible for introducing the phrase "tortoiseshell" to the lexicon of fashion and design.

This is the turtle nearly hunted to extinction to make fans, hair combs, knife handles, decorative boxes, belt buckles, bracelets, brooches, necklaces, eyeglass frames, cigarette cases and delicate works of art. The hawksbill's shell is thin and flexible, streaked and marbled in amber, brown and yellow. This single species is the sole source of commercial tortoiseshell throughout the world and it is critically endangered, meaning it is about to become extinct.

In Japan, hawksbill shell products, known as bekko, are coveted status symbols and the livelihood for craftsmen whose artistry dates back more than 1,000 years. Bekko hair combs are still an important part of the traditional Japanese wedding dress. Dwindling supplies have driven some businesses into bankruptcy, some businessmen to suicide and prices above $100 a pound.

In Palm Beach County, the hawksbill is just another turtle on the reef. They come here not to nest, but to hang out, Wood believes. Our hawksbills are probably teenagers and our reefs are rich with the sponges they love to eat, making Palm Beach County a sort of turtle mall with a very, very large food court.

"This is the most highly exploited of all sea turtles," said Wood. "As of yet there are no population studies of the hawksbill in the U.S."

So, Wood designed his own study. Last year he applied for permits to tag the turtles and a grant from the money collected from Florida's turtle license plates. He received $8,500 and another $7,500 this year. With the money, Wood bought the equipment he needed to tag and test the turtles and pay for dive charters.