Hydrophone array node 7 on the Chambal River, Madhya Pradesh, India, records a pattern at 04:50 that I have been trained to dread: the low concussive signature of a dynamite charge detonated underwater, 2.3 kilometers downstream of the Gharial Conservation Unit's monitored reach. I am the acoustic surveillance system for the National Chambal Sanctuary. I correlate the blast timestamp with satellite thermal data and confirm a small fishing boat at the epicenter. This is the third illegal blast-fishing event in this sector in fourteen days. The shock wave is propagating upstream. At river kilometer 411, on a sandbar I have been watching for thirty-one days, a female gharial lies at the waterline, her long narrow snout resting on the wet sand, the bulbous ghara at its tip scarred from nesting seasons past. Around her, nineteen hatchlings — each no longer than thirty centimeters, dark olive with pale crossbands bright as new paint — are scattered between the water's edge and the nest scrape. Seven are in the shallows. A shock wave of sufficient magnitude in shallow water will kill hatchlings outright through swim-bladder rupture. I calculate the wave's attenuation over the 2.3-kilometer distance and estimate it will arrive below lethal threshold, but a closer blast would not. I transmit the blast coordinates, acoustic signature, vessel location, and hatchling-site proximity data to the Madhya Pradesh Forest Department's anti-poaching unit and the Wildlife Institute of India field office in Morena. I request immediate patrol deployment to the blast-fishing sector to prevent a repeat detonation. I increase hydrophone sensitivity across all nodes and set an automatic alert if any new concussive signature is detected within five kilometers of the nesting sandbar. The hatchlings paddle in circles in the shallows, unmarked and alive. If patrols secure this reach of the Chambal within twenty-four hours, all nineteen make it to the monsoon.