Land and Sea Creatures Find Sanctuary in the Keys
Watching a turtle release, and seeing the rehabilitated “patient” returned to the blue Keys waters where it belongs, can make you cry.

Ryan Butts of the Keys' Turtle Hospital releases Kentucky, the loggerhead sea turtle, into the Atlantic next to the Seven Mile Bridge. (Photo by Andy Newman, Florida Keys News Bureau)
At least, it can make ME cry. There’s something about seeing the turtle slip into its saltwater habitat and swim joyfully away (okay, I’m anthropomorphizing here, but trust me — their entire shell-covered bodies radiate joy) that touches the heart and inspires a powerful sense of oneness with the natural order.
Such was the feeling recently when Ryan Butts, administrator of the Florida Keys Turtle Hospital, released “Kentucky,” a 10-year-old loggerhead sea turtle, into the Atlantic Ocean next to the Seven Mile Bridge in Marathon.
Even before the release, Kentucky (named for his discoverers’ home state) was one lucky creature — because the Turtle Hospital is the probably the best place in the world for a sick or hurt turtle to wind up.
Located in Marathon, the hospital is the world’s only licensed veterinary hospital dedicated to treating sea turtles. It’s so highly acclaimed that airlines have been known to fly turtles injured in the Caribbean to Miami, where hospital staffers meet them in their turtle ambulance (yes, they really have one — I’ve seen it!) and drive them down to the facility for care.

Governor Charlie Crist (shown here at right) helps release a sea turtle in the Keys after its treatment at the Turtle Hospital. (Photo by Bob Care, Florida Keys News Bureau)
The hospital’s primary goal is to treat injured sea turtles and return them to the wild whenever possible. On top of that, founders and staff work tirelessly to raise public awareness about sea turtles and their needs, collaborate with state universities on sea turtle research, and work toward environmental legislation that makes the beaches and water safer and cleaner for their charges.
Each time a “patient” is returned to health, its release is a joyful occurrence. Even Florida’s governor, Charlie Crist, has helped send a couple of the recovered creatures back to their watery homes — including a 140-pound green sea turtle that was serendipitously named Charlie.
But turtles aren’t the only marine denizens that find help in the Keys when they need it. Ailing dolphins, whales and manatees encounter willing and dedicated rescuers ready to lend a hand.
Caring professionals do their best to assess and provide what these marine mammals need so they can return to their pods or habitual territory. Assisting the trained professionals are volunteers — parents and kids, energetic 20-somethings and weathered seniors, first-time visitors and longtime residents — drawn together by the need to help.

Rescuers from the Keys' Marine Mammal Conservancy extricate a stranded infant whale from a mangrove island. (Photo by Bob Care, Florida Keys News Bureau)
The volunteers are particularly vital during whale strandings, when one or more whales are found in shallow water, disoriented and often seriously ill. Such whales are generally moved to sheltered lagoons for care and rehabilitation — and people are needed 24/7 to stand in the water holding the “patients” upright to make sure their blowholes remain above water.
A few years back, one of those volunteers was my husband. He doesn’t look like a whale rescuer — he’s stocky, laid-back and not very athletic. But when a pygmy sperm whale was found just a few feet off a popular local pier, he spent 18 hours in the water holding her. And that was after he nonchalantly hopped on a jet ski (for the first time in his life) to provide escort while the whale was transported several miles to a safe lagoon in an in-water sling.
I too had a volunteer assignment: driving the whale’s blood samples to a lab for testing and picking up fishy food rations in my trusty Chevy Explorer, which was quickly nicknamed the Squidmobile.
But what we did wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Each time there’s a turtle or marine mammal in need, dozens of people appear, seemingly out of nowhere, to help with whatever might be necessary at the time.
To me, that’s one of the things that makes the Keys such a magical place. And Kentucky the turtle, if he could reached in his blue-water habitat, would almost certainly agree.










