• The Pearl Protectors’ Turtle Patrol Programme celebrates 5 years

For several months at the start of the year, Sri Lanka’s western coastline plays hair to a quietly extraordinary phenomenon each night. Amid beachside restaurants, passing trains, streetlights, and late-night conversations drifting across the sand, sea turtles return to our shores as they have for millennia to lay their eggs on our now-urban beaches. 

These sea turtles travel thousands of kilometres to lay their eggs, guided by instinct far older than the cities that now dot the beaches of the Western Province.

For the fifth consecutive year, The Pearl Protectors’ Turtle Patrol Programme stood watch over this fragile ritual, safeguarding nesting sea turtles along the beaches of Mount Lavinia and Dehiwala. What began as a volunteer-driven initiative grew into one of Sri Lanka’s most significant urban turtle conservation efforts, proving that wildlife protection does not always take place in distant forests or remote reserves; sometimes, it happens just beyond the glow of a restaurant’s floodlights.

An urban anomaly in global conservation

Sri Lanka was home to five of the world’s seven sea turtle species, all of which returned to land to nest. This act, however, placed them at their most vulnerable. While turtles faced immense threats at sea, from plastic ingestion to fishing gear entanglement, their journey ashore presented its own dangers. Poaching, egg theft, light pollution, human disturbance, and coastal development converged to create a hostile environment for nesting.

What made Mount Lavinia and Dehiwala remarkable was that they remained active nesting grounds despite being densely urbanised. Very few cities in the world could claim such proximity to a natural reproductive process of endangered marine species. Yet this rarity was also what placed these turtles at greater risk.

“The turtles are doing what they’ve always done, returning to the same beaches they were born on,” Founder and Executive Director of The Pearl Protectors Muditha Katuwawala, stated. “What has changed is everything around them.”

The birth of the turtle patrol

The Turtle Patrol Programme was established as an ex-situ conservation initiative, mobilising civilian volunteers to protect nests during the nesting season. Operating under Sri Lanka’s Fauna and Flora Protection Ordinance, volunteers did not handle turtles or eggs directly. Instead, they acted as the first line of defence, identifying nests, deterring poachers, and coordinating with the Sri Lanka Coast Guard to relocate eggs to secure conservation zones.

From its earliest days, the programme recognised that protection had to happen in real time. Nesting occurred late at night and in the early hours of the morning, precisely when beaches were least monitored and most vulnerable.

“Our focus has always been prevention,” Katuwawala shared. “Once a nest is disturbed, the damage is done. The only way to protect turtles on these beaches is to be present.”

Five years of measurable impact

The programme’s growth over five years reflected both increasing volunteer engagement and escalating environmental pressures.

In its first year in 2022, patrollers conserved seven turtle nests across a three-kilometre stretch of beach in just one week. By 2023, the operation expanded into three patrolling zones, Dehiwala North, Dehiwala South, and Mount Lavinia, with 60 volunteers covering 60 days. That year alone, 72 nests were protected, amounting to 7,944 turtle eggs conserved.

The momentum continued into 2024. Four patrolling zones, including Wellawatta, saw 130 volunteers protecting 130 nests and safeguarding over 14,200 eggs across 90 days.

Then came 2025, the fourth full year of patrolling and the most impactful yet.

Over an 84-day period from January to March, more than 200 volunteers patrolled nightly across three zones. By the end of the season, 202 turtle nests had been identified and conserved, protecting an estimated 21,389 eggs. This exceeded the original conservation target by a significant margin and marked a nearly 50 per cent increase from the previous year.

“These numbers aren’t abstract,” Katuwawala said. “Each egg represents a chance. In urban environments like this, chances are rare.”

How the patrol worked

Patrolling began at 10 p.m. and often stretched past 2 a.m. Volunteers moved in small groups, scanning the sand for turtle tracks, nesting activity, hatchlings, or signs of disturbance. Every observation was logged with precise GPS coordinates and shared instantly through dedicated communication channels.

Volunteers underwent compulsory training before joining patrols, including online modules, discussion sessions, and hands-on field instruction. Group leaders oversaw safety and documentation, ensuring consistency across teams.

When a nest was discovered, the Sri Lanka Coast Guard was contacted immediately. Eggs were then carefully extracted and relocated to fenced conservation areas under Coast Guard supervision. Hatchlings found during patrols were guided safely to the sea, away from artificial lights and obstacles.

“This coordination was essential,” Katuwawala explained. “Civilians cannot legally handle eggs or turtles, so our partnership with the Coast Guard is foundational.”

Patterns in the night

Data collected during the 2025 season revealed distinct nesting patterns, particularly among Olive Ridley turtles. Nesting activity peaked between 11–11:30 p.m. and again between 1–1:30 a.m., forming a clear bimodal distribution. The quietest window occurred shortly after patrols began.

Month-by-month comparisons showed higher nesting activity in 2025 than in 2024, with February recording strong numbers around full moon and first quarter phases. Nesting extended further into late March than in previous years, suggesting improved conditions or the effectiveness of continuous monitoring.

When development met instinct

Despite conservation gains, the patrols documented growing threats along the coastline. The most visible was unchecked beachfront development.

Over the past four years, at least six new restaurants opened along Dehiwala beach. Tables, chairs, tents, and permanent fixtures extended dangerously close to the foreshore, shrinking available nesting space, particularly along already narrow beaches.

Patrollers recorded instances of turtles nesting directly beside diners. In several cases, customers used flash photography, touched turtles, or gathered around nests. Hatchlings, drawn by artificial light, were seen crawling towards restaurants instead of the sea. In one incident, a hatchling was accidentally stepped on.

Light pollution remained one of the most disruptive factors. Floodlights facing the ocean, flashing party lights, and late-night music altered natural cues turtles relied on for orientation. Fridays and Saturdays saw the sharpest increases in disturbance.

“There’s a disconnect,” Katuwawala observed. “People don’t realise that a single light source can undo thousands of years of instinct.”

Other pressures along the shore

Noise pollution from restaurants operating past midnight added another layer of stress. Coastal erosion reshaped sections of beach into steep, unstable slopes, pushing nests closer to the tide line. Discharge of wastewater onto the foreshore altered sand composition, even trapping nesting turtles in depressions.

Patrollers also documented instances of poaching. In two cases, individuals were intercepted carrying turtle eggs, which were recovered and handed over to authorities. A nest was poached during patrol hours, underscoring how quickly damage could occur.

Dead hatchlings and deceased turtles washed ashore during the season, bearing signs of predation, plastic ingestion, or injury. Deformed eggs were observed in several nests, pointing to environmental stressors affecting reproductive success.

Fishing activity added yet another challenge. Boats parked along the shore reduced nesting space, forcing turtles to lay eggs beside hulls and equipment.

Community, responsibility, and the road ahead

Yet, amid these challenges, there were signs of shared responsibility. Restaurant staff intervened to keep patrons at a distance from nesting turtles. The Sri Lanka Coast Guard installed dim red lighting near conservation points to reduce disruption.

For The Pearl Protectors, the fifth year served as both a milestone and a warning.

“Success doesn’t mean the job is done,” Katuwawala reflected. “It means the stakes are higher.”

The Turtle Patrol Programme stood as proof that urban conservation was possible, but only through vigilance, cooperation, and public awareness. As Colombo continued to expand along the coast, the question remained whether development would coexist with nature or push it out entirely.

Each night, volunteers still walked the sand, eyes trained for tracks that led inland instead of back to the sea. Each nest protected became a quiet act of resistance, against negligence, against erasure, and against the idea that cities and wildlife could not share the same shoreline.

Five years on, the turtles continued to return. For now, so did the people watching over them.