It’s time to look back on 2025! Check our blog between Christmas and New Year’s for a variety of stories and memories of 2025 from the staff of the Wildlife Center of Virginia.
When I think about 2025, the memory that stands out most vividly is a single text message: a photo of a cracked egg, with the tiny head of a Snapping Turtle hatchling breaking through the shell. I had been waiting for this moment for so long, and of course it happened on my weekend. Later that day, I made my way to the Center and held that impossibly small hatchling in my hand—now known as“Pink” #25-3643—as I cleaned the umbilicus and performed a brief evaluation. This was it. Months of work, worry, teamwork, and hope were finally paying off. The hatchling was tiny, but in that moment, it felt like the biggest victory of the year.
That victory had been a long time coming. The hatchling’s story began back in May, when a female Snapping Turtle—patient #25-1859—was struck by a vehicle. Over the next two months, our veterinary team worked tirelessly to repair her severe jaw fracture. Despite their efforts, the injury worsened, and they ultimately had to make the difficult decision to humanely euthanize her. But #1859’s story didn’t end there. During her months of treatment at the Center, she had laid eggs, and our team was determined to give her offspring a chance.
I remember carefully placing the eggs in the incubator on an ICU shelf, double-checking temperatures and humidity, and holding my breath every time I opened the lid to mist them. I stayed cautiously optimistic; so much can go wrong during captive incubation, and we hadn’t been successful with this process in the past. The timing made it even more challenging. It was peak baby season—a whirlwind of orphan intakes, frantic feeding schedules, and new externs to mentor each day. Still, every night at home, I found myself reading about reptile embryology, humidity curves, and developmental timelines (not light reading, I assure you). I kept asking myself, Is this worth doing in the midst of summer chaos?
Then came the day we candled the eggs and saw faint shadows moving inside. I caught a glimpse of what looked like a fully formed turtle claw. In that moment, my question was answered: yes—this was absolutely worth it!
I continued our efforts to care for these eggs—and for one other as well. During that time, one of our box turtle patients laid a single egg. We placed it in the same incubator as the Snapping Turtle eggs and kept watch over them all. While I hoped every egg would hatch, I have to admit I found myself rooting especially hard for that lone little box turtle egg. Every day, I worried about it, fussed over it, and checked the temperature probes more times than I’d ever admit. I even added an “egg update” to the weekly patient email to make sure the entire team stayed on top of things.
Then, in September, I got that text. Over the course of that week, we welcomed one healthy Snapping Turtle hatchling after another into the world—and one healthy box turtle, whose hatching I was lucky enough to witness. The final count: thirteen healthy hatchlings (cue the applause!).
This wasn’t something I accomplished alone. Their survival depended on everyone in our department—from the rehab team, who handled daily misting and temperature checks and tolerated my endless weekend update requests and daily hovering over the incubator; to the veterinary staff, who gave those eggs a chance in the first place; to Dr. Olivia, who made a sign reminding me to “check the eggs”; and to the coworkers whose constant encouragement never let me lose hope. We did it!
Since then, every day has brought a new milestone for these hatchlings: their first bites, their first attempts at diving, their first reactions to live prey. Their care has been challenging, from formulating specialized diets to designing bioactive setups that allow them to practice natural behaviors. Being part of that process has been incredibly rewarding.
Next spring, these hatchlings will return to the wild, completing the effort that began months ago in an incubator on an ICU shelf. I will never forget the feeling of seeing them hatch. It wasn’t just new life emerging from an egg—it was a reminder that the work we do, even when it feels chaotic, exhausting, or impossible, truly matters. And sometimes, the most meaningful things we accomplish begin as something fragile, something we approach with cautious optimism … and then grow into something wild, resilient, and ready to join Virginia’s ecosystem.
— Alex Olvera, Wildlife Rehabilitation Supervisor
