24/12/2025
Among Ancient Mariners: Behind the Scenes of Marine Turtle Conservation in Cyprus
It was amazing how quickly the scenery became more and more rural as we passed olive groves, banana plantations and traditional stone taverns, the bustle of the town giving way to a landscape that felt timeless. We were to meet Angela Mastrogiacomo, an evolutionary biologist and conservation researcher with the Mediterranean Turtle Research and Conservation Society (MedTRACS), and Simon Demetropoulos, whose life and work carry forward the legacy of his father, Andreas.
We were told only the time of the meeting, not the place. That detail came in a brief message just before we were due to leave - Angela had arranged it cautiously, understanding the sensitivity of working with endangered species. It was quickly apparent that some nests had not yet been marked, which made it even more important to be guided by the MedTRACS team to avoid accidental disturbance. From the roadside, you would never guess that these unassuming stretches of sand are nurseries for creatures that first swam the oceans when dinosaurs walked the Earth.
Our 4x4 hire car bounced along a dusty, rutted gravel track until the sea suddenly appeared below us. There, silhouetted against the turquoise water, were Angela and Miguel, an intern from the MedTRACS team. They were already crouched low over the sand, recording and sketching, their markers identifying where nests lay hidden.
Angela, who arranged our meeting, brings both field experience and scientific expertise. She has co-authored studies on the genetic structure and migration patterns of sea turtles in the Mediterranean, including research published in Aquatic Conservation: Marine and Freshwater Ecosystems, where her affiliation is listed with the Department of Biology and Biotechnologies ‘Charles Darwin’, University La Sapienza, Rome, Italy. Her work includes analysing how populations are structured at the genetic level and identifying regional nesting and foraging behaviours, which are critical to tailoring conservation strategies. Her experience, spanning both laboratory genetics and rugged fieldwork, made her the perfect host for our glimpse behind the scenes of turtle protection.
Simon greeted us warmly, his eyes lighting up when I asked after the work of his late father. Andreas Demetropoulos studied marine biology and oceanography at University College of North Wales, Bangor. On returning to Cyprus in the 1960s, he became a founding figure in the Department of Fisheries and Marine Research, serving as its Director from 1967 to 1998. He drove the sea turtle protection legislation enacted in 1971, which remains in force today. In 1976-1977, he, together with some dedicated colleagues, began the island’s first systematic turtle nesting surveys, leading to the officially launched turtle conservation project in 1978 at Lara and Toxeftra. That area was subsequently secured as a protected reserve. He co-founded the Cyprus Wildlife Society in 1984 and was a founding member of the Cyprus Federation of Environmental Organisations in 1989. In 1988 he received global recognition when he was named on the Global 500 Roll of Honour. His influence extended internationally; he later served as a consultant to UNEP’s Mediterranean Action Plan, the UN Food and Agricultural Organisation, and the European Commission’s Environment Directorate.
“He would come up to these beaches on the weekends to check on the nests,” Simon recalled with pride. “In fact, he would sometimes come up on weekday afternoons too.” From a young age Simon had caught the same bug, and now he stands shoulder to shoulder with Angela, Miguel and their team of expert conservationists and dedicated volunteers, carrying the family legacy forward.
Today, Simon is more than a guardian of nests. As Director and Research Coordinator at MedTRACS, he oversees patrols across Cyprus, coordinates the participation of the organisation in international research projects, and contributes to scientific papers that influence conservation policy across the Mediterranean. His name appears alongside global experts in studies on turtle genetics, nesting behaviour and habitat threats. That professional weight is matched by his fieldwork, which often keeps him awake until dawn, and his conviction that conservation must rest on both hard science and human commitment.
Angela paused in her work to explain the natural wonder that was happening beneath our feet. “Loggerheads lay around 80 eggs and green turtles 120 eggs on average in a clutch,” she told us, brushing sand from her notebook. “A female can lay up to four clutches in a season. It sounds like a huge number, but only one in a thousand hatchlings will survive to adulthood. That is nature’s insurance policy.”
The science of survival is both brutal and a breathtaking feat of instinct and endurance. Hatchlings begin to breathe air with their lungs even while still buried under the sand. The shells are porous and the sand is loose enough to let oxygen filter down. The collective effort of dozens of siblings wriggling together is normally enough in most nests. But sometimes the sand is too compact, too wet, or the group too small to dig clear. In those cases, the babies risk suffocation before ever seeing the light of day. This is one reason why MedTRACS check on nests with problems soon after hatching while for most nests the process is left to be completed naturally. They excavate carefully, rescuing any stragglers and recording how many eggs succeeded. It is not interference for its own sake, but a measured act of conservation, one that saves lives and builds the scientific record needed to protect the species.
MedTRACS, the Mediterranean Turtle Research and Conservation Society, was established in 2022, though its staff bring decades of experience in turtle biology and conservation. Their work stretches far beyond this one beach. Each season the team monitors nesting across Polis Chrysochou Bay, Akamas, Larnaca, Pyrgos and other sites, recording nest numbers, protecting the nests, and rescuing stranded or injured turtles. They also campaign to reduce light pollution, engage schools and communities in conservation, conduct community beach cleans and publish research that feeds into international policy. In 2023 more than 2,300 nests were logged under their watch, a record year, though Simon is quick to remind us that such peaks can be fragile and should never be taken for granted. Angela proudly informed us, “At the start of the project just about 300 nests were recorded.” To have this number now in excess of 2000 is a credit to the long-term hard work and dedication of the team.
The volunteers, too, play a vital role. Angela shared how two had recently campaigned tirelessly to raise awareness about the dangers of artificial light. “During the nesting and hatching season people are not allowed to be on the beach at night in the protected areas,” she explained. “We are unable to enforce this as a rule also in other areas as much as we would like but if the hatchlings see artificial light, they head towards it rather than the sea. That can prove fatal if they end up on a road instead of in the water.”
Simon added, “It is an amazing privilege to play a part in the conservation of the turtles. When people hear about our work they often want to help voluntarily, but for many the reality of working such long hours in such extreme heat is simply too much. Some only last a day or two. Getting committed helpers and then training them to do things the correct way is no small task. It is not for the faint-hearted. I finished work at 4 am this morning, had a five-hour virtual meeting this afternoon and here we are to check more nests.”
I was grateful for the sea breeze, but I felt sorry for the team I had seen earlier at Lara, where there was very little shade, no breeze and temperatures above 30 °C.
When I asked what their biggest priority was, Angela replied without hesitation: “Nest protection.” Aside from human pressure, predators are a main threat, and she showed us the metal cages that had been designed, trialled and proven here in Cyprus. “We do all we can to avoid interfering with nature,” she explained, “but there comes a time when we must step in.” The cages are made from aluminium, which is important because it does not disrupt the magnetic imprinting that guides turtles back to their natal beach, decades later. Other metals could interfere with this process, potentially preventing females from returning to the right coastline to nest. “Green Turtles are far more specific about returning to the same beach. Loggerheads will often choose a nest site along a larger stretch of coastline.”
Angela also spoke about the importance of allowing natural selection to play its part. “Human instincts often push us to intervene when an animal struggles, but stepping in too quickly could weaken an entire species.” I thought of our own Egg-Ed project, where schools hatch chicken eggs in incubators. Teachers sometimes want to help chicks that are slow to emerge, but that act of kindness can create weakness that carries into adulthood. In the wild, only the strongest survive to hatch unaided, and it is that strength which ensures the resilience of future generations. The lesson is clear: even well-meant interference can tip the balance and make a species dependent on us for survival.
I felt humbled by how much I was learning and painfully aware that even with a genuine interest in chelonian species, I still knew so little. The gap in public understanding is wide, and education is as important as the conservation itself.
Angela handed my wife Jen the red bucket used to collect hatchlings, and her face lit up. She did not have to be asked twice. As the evening continued the bucket grew busier, each tiny passenger adding to the sense of anticipation.
Night-time activities are in many places strictly forbidden, Angela explained, but as our meeting had been delayed it grew dark quite quickly after we arrived. In this area there are fewer restrictions, so we listened carefully to strict instructions and our time was under the supervision of the MedTRACS team. Even so, the risks were clear. The faintest light can distract a hatchling as it makes its way to the sea. I had brought red torches just in case, but Simon agreed with Angela that the belief red light is invisible to turtles is a myth. “They can still see it,” he said.
Crowds walking near emerging hatchlings in the dark would be disastrous, and I had already explained this to my daughters. We understood that we would not be able to stay, and although we longed to witness the event, we were grateful simply to have shared the day. Conscious of the privilege of our invitation, I suggested we leave the team to focus on their work. Yet just as we were about to go, Angela asked, “Don’t you want to wait to see them released?”
The day quickly slipped into evening. The sunset did not last long, and then the moment was upon us. For the team this was more than beautiful. It was the signal they had been waiting for. Darkness is the cue to release hatchlings, when the babies are less visible to predators, increasing their chances of survival.
Simon carried the red bucket that Jen had guarded so carefully. My daughters leaned in close, awed by the tiny creatures no bigger than their palms, each already driven by the instinct to reach the waves.
We lined up at the shore, a bit further up from the surf’s reach. As the bucket tipped, the hatchlings stepped onto the sand and began their determined scramble. Flippers churned, tiny bodies wobbling forward, every movement a struggle yet utterly purposeful. Within moments they were slipping into the sea, heads bobbing briefly before vanishing into the dark Mediterranean.
Only one in a thousand would ever return as an adult. Yet in that twilight moment the odds did not matter. Each release was an act of faith, a thread of hope cast into the future.
Simon watched them disappear and said quietly, “This is why we do it. I love watching all of them get into the sea.”
For my family, it was more than a scientific lesson. It was a glimpse into time itself, a reminder that the survival of these ancient mariners rests on the dedication of those who guard them and on the choices we make to protect the fragile balance of nature.
To find out more about the incredible work of MedTRACS you can follow their page here: MEDTRACS | Facebook
Article and photography by Nathan Potts. With gratitude to Angela Mastrogiacomo, Simon Demetropoulos and the MedTRACS team for their time, guidance and dedication to marine conservation.
