You’ve just been born; you discard your eggshell and tunnel to the surface. Now you must make a mad dash for safety. Unlike sea turtles who hatch at night and head for the brightest horizon (hopefully the sea, but all too often a local fast food restaurant), you emerge during the day and head out in a random “drunkard’s walk” without any clear sense of direction, hoping to find vegetative shelter. Momma lays her nest on a steep slope, hoping you’ll take the hint and slide downward into the safety of wrack line and salt marsh grasses. But you choose the “high road,” struggling like a Mount Everest sherpa to climb the soft, sandy, high dune of Turtle Point. And then comes the landslide.
Confronting Sandy Avalanche with Neither Angst Nor Doubt