VELAS, India — At dawn during the Velas Turtle Festival, visitors cheer as palm-sized olive ridley hatchlings struggle toward the surf. Local volunteers gather eggs from vulnerable nests and move them into netted hatcheries to shield them from predators. When the hatchlings emerge, they are released under supervision so gulls and dogs don’t snatch them as they head into the water.
Even with these safeguards, chances of reaching adulthood are tiny: roughly one in 1,000 olive ridleys survives to maturity. The International Union for Conservation of Nature lists the species as vulnerable. Across its tropical range the turtles face long-standing threats — incidental capture in fishing nets, commercial slaughter for meat and leather, egg poaching and coastal development — and conservationists once feared steep declines in India.
But recent trends offer hope. Kartik Shanker, a leading Indian sea turtle scientist, says conservationists recorded about 100,000 nests across India two decades ago. After protections were adopted, last winter’s nesting season produced roughly a million nests, a dramatic rise. Key measures include seasonal fishing bans, protected coastal zones and grassroots projects like the Velas Turtle Festival.
The Velas effort began after founder Mohan Upadhye found a turtle eggshell in the early 2000s. He organized hatcheries, persuaded the local council to ban seaside construction at nesting sites and launched the festival to create incentives for protection. Villagers receive modest payments to keep beaches clean and guard nests. During the two-month hatching season that starts in April, tourists stay with residents, providing income and spreading awareness.
Conservation workers use protected baskets and enclosed hatcheries to reduce predation. The strategy accepts that many turtles will still die at sea, but improving survival during early life raises the odds that some will return to breed. Olive ridleys sometimes nest in huge, synchronous groups called arribadas, so safeguarding particular beaches is crucial: females often return to the same spots to lay eggs.
Local pride and leadership have been essential. Upadhye sports a turtle tattoo and speaks about passing conservation to younger generations. Festival manager Virendra Ramesh Patel notes a cultural shift: his grandparents once collected eggs for special meals; today villagers protect nests for conservation and eco-tourism revenue. The festival builds on a lineage of Indian turtle conservationists, including Satish Bhaskar, the ‘Turtle Walker,’ who walked thousands of miles studying turtles and creating baseline data; a documentary, Turtle Walker, was released this year.
Despite the rebound, dangers remain. In January, hundreds of olive ridleys washed ashore dead near Chennai, apparently suffocated in nets used by illegal trawlers. Plastic pollution adds a newer threat: turtles mistake floating plastic for jellyfish and ingest it. Shanker warns that visible recovery could prompt developers to press for rollbacks of protections, arguing beaches are no longer at risk.
Conservationists call for continued protections combined with community benefits, such as eco-tourism or carefully regulated, sustainable use where appropriate. Upadhye and festival organizers stress education, hoping visitors who cheer for hatchlings will become advocates after they return home. ‘This is the time that we have to make future generations aware,’ Upadhye says. ‘We have to fight.’
Velas illustrates a patchwork but effective model: community engagement, protected nesting sites, seasonal fishing restrictions and active nest protection. Those measures helped reverse a decline that once looked likely to continue. Yet mass mortality events, illegal fishing, plastic pollution and development pressure show the recovery is fragile. Ongoing enforcement against illegal trawling, continued protections for nesting beaches and efforts to reduce ocean plastic will be essential if olive ridleys are to keep rebounding rather than slip back toward peril.