The Pawikan Conservation Centre has been trying to save three kinds of endangered turtles, who come ashore to nest in the Bataan province, in the Philippines. Every winter turtles lay about a hundred eggs here.
That might sound like a lot, but their eggs are being threatened and fewer hatchlings are making it out to sea each year.
"We have green turtle, we have Olive Ridley and we have this Hawks bill," says Manolo Ibias from the Pawikan Conservation Centre.
An Olive Ridley is one of three marine turtles native to this area. Yet the survival of these turtles is under threat largely because of illegal poaching, an activity that former poacher Ibias is fighting to end.
"If there is no intervention for maybe one or two decades all of these turtles marine turtles will disappear," he says.
For centuries, this coastline has been a nesting ground for the turtles. When they mature, they come back to local beach to lay their eggs. Turtles share this place with villagers, who have been hunting the eggs for generations.
"The eggs and the meat taste good," says fisherman Jose Magtanong.
He says he no longer poaches the eggs but admits for many locals it's a way of getting by.
To ensure the turtles' survival, Ibias and his team are trying to stay one step ahead of the poachers. They collect the eggs and bury them here where they incubate safely for about two months.
A turtle can lay on average 100 eggs each time. Ibias takes stock of this nest which produced hatchings just days ago, sorting the good eggs from the bad.
The injured turtles are also rehabilitated at the centre. But Ibias thinks these can survive on their own.
"Check this out. These guys are late bloomers. The other turtles in this nest hatched four days ago,“ he says, adding. “We weren't expecting to find these guys at all. They have some deformities on their shells but the conservationists here decided that they are going to give them a fighting chance so we are going to release them at sunset."
Ibias says it's important to minimize human contact. These creatures need to get to shore right away.
The lucky few who evade predators and other dangers will come of age in roughly 30 years -- when the next generation of villagers are all grown up.
"My kids will never have the chance to see those turtles anymore and the kids of my kids will never have a chance to see those turtles," Ibias says
Back at the hatchery, a sign more turtles are on the move.
"The top of the mound is collapsing. So that means they are about half way to surface. So this one this nest you can expect this tonight to emerge."
However tonight, the turtles have stage fright so the conservationists leave them alone and head out to patrol the beach.
The team hunts for nests late into the evening. The 26 volunteers are all reformed poachers from the village.
"We are looking for the tracks and with this tool we can easily find where the eggs are," says Ibias holding a probing rod.
It's the same instrument he used to hunt eggs for 25 years - a former predator turned protector.
When the conservationists return to the centre - 36 babies see their first light. Ibias decides to release them at dawn.
As the sun rises, a sleepy Ibias wanders to the water. One by one, he sets the newborns free.
"I don't have any regret giving up poaching. I am so proud now that I gave a chance to those 46,000 baby turtles that we released to the wild to survive."
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