19 minutes and 25 seconds of the final film...complete!
There's still a lot of work ahead but the most "difficult" scenes to edit are now behind me.
My obvious problem is cutting the audio (being that I'm completely deaf in my right ear and have significant hearing loss in my left). I have to strain to hear the "highs and lows" of each track in the clip. Still, no matter how long it takes me, I do it.
Now, as I look at roughly half the completed film (and truly some very, very beautiful scenes), I think I can feel that slight tug of a smile at the corner of my mouth.
One interesting thing has been working on special effects in post production. Now you might be tempted to say, "wtf, special FX in a sea turtle doc???"...but - trust me - these additions work wonderfully in the segments. 
I would post more clips here but I'm going to make you wait for it. You don't have much longer to wait, though. I am on schedule to deliver the film by Aug. 25.

Cheers,
-Rick

Watching any animal that survives human-inflicted injury begin to recover from their injuries due to valiant effort and skilled medical care, is nothing short of inspiring. Watching the same animal later succumb to the sheer traumatic nature of those wounds, despite great efforts to save it, is heart-breaking.
As a filmmaker, watching this happen to one of your film’s “stars”is kind of a double whammy.
“Zoe,” a sub-adult green sea turtle, who I’d met the first day when she was brought in by rescuers, had been traumatically injured by a boat propeller in early November, 2011. Prognosis was not too great on “Day One.” In fact, I was told more than once that it was unlikely “she” (sex undetermined) would make it past the first week.
She made it.
With severe gashes torn through her carapace and signs of internal injuries, treatment was initially centered on stabilizing the turtle and determining the possibility of rehabilitation. 
Zoe – though massively injured – never stopped fighting. 
Through the weeks that followed she surprised the medical staff with her “feisty” spirit. Zoe even showed progress in regaining movement from what had been thought to be paralyzed lower extremities. Oh, how she could put up a fight on the examination table!
There were positive signs along the way. Zoe tried to eat on her own (though, truly, she rarely did it successfully) and watching her swim was a treat. If not for the huge wounds in her shell, one might easily forget she was ever on the brink of death.
I have to admit, I took it for granted that her rehab was progressing and had allowed myself to believe she would someday make the journey home. So much effort and dedication went into trying to save Zoe. I seriously thought that between that and her indomitable spirit there was no way she wouldn’t beat the odds.

The odds…the damn odds.

See, the truth is that it really is notoriously difficult to save sea turtles when their injuries are so massive and so traumatic. The medical staff at LMC fought an uphill battle from day one. Not only did the team do their best but they enlisted help from outside resources to give Zoe unrivalled care.
Still, little more than a week ago, Zoe died during a surgical procedure to insert another feeding tube. The turtle had not been keeping weight on and was unable to eat for herself. I can only imagine the depth of sadness and profound loss felt by all of those who cared for Zoe. I know how hard the news hit me.
It took the words of a good friend to remind me that I have an obligation to fill. My job has always been to tell these turtles' stories…as hard as that might be sometimes.
So, I ask you to remember Zoe. I ask that you think about the factors that caused her injuries. I ask that you tell her story…and the stories of the other turtles in Journey Home. I simply ask that you help me to spread the word and, in doing so, maybe we can save the species.  
When all is said and done, it will never be about one turtle. It will always be about saving every last one of them.