WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?
Here's a hint: Roy just took this photo during a rainy afternoon this past week.
Building on the theme of obscure photos recently taken at the marsh (see April 6), here's a chance to show your knowledge to the world. I will mail a Lake Erie themed prize to the first person who properly identifies what is pictured above. I reserve the right to award the prize based on the level of detail provided in your answer . . . the more detail, the better.
Submit your entry through the comment link below. If you win, I'll contact you to claim your prize!
P.S. The answer will be revealed in a post in the coming week. So make sure you take a guess now and check back to see if you've won . . . or at least to learn the rest of the story.
Despite the fact that there is currently snow falling from the sky, I know it's only a matter of time before we transition into migrating warblers, more amphibians, fish sampling, turtle trapping, plant identification, and more. Browns and grays (and yes, whites) are going to transition to greens and blues soon enough. So I need to give the spring ducks a little more air time.
One of the unexpected and really enjoyable aspects of this project thus far has been the number of family members -- immediate and extended -- who have carved out some time to come pay us a visit. Recently, a second cousin (cousin's son) dropped in for his second visit . . . this time, wielding a pretty awesome camera and the knowledge of how to use it. Deke is just finishing up school in Vermont and is trying to decide if/how he could scratch the environmental itch professionally. Like so many of us, his course work has lead him down an exploratory path, but now he's reaching the proverbial fork in the road. What's next?
Photography and videography are a related passion for Deke, and we were the beneficiaries a couple weeks back. I just got the raw footage. While he was with me I got to spend a couple hours trying to gently corral migrating ducks -- mainly shovelers, pintails, widgeon, and teal -- toward Deke and his camera, as he juggled ever-changing light and Phragmites in the face. The footage above was taken as I was regrouping in our 4-wheeler. What I thought was going to be the least interesting footage turned out to be some of the most compelling -- other than maybe some close-ups that I'll hopefully get to share later. For a first effort though, we did pretty well. I'm hoping it's not our last field day together, whether we're looking through a lens or not.
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P.S. One of the opportunities we see for this place ties directly to nature photography. Over the last 20+ years, I have been fortunate enough to get to know renowned photographer, journalist, and instructor Art Weber as a mentor and friend. For those of you who don't know Art, he is a ridiculously fun and humble talent who not only spent the majority of his career with the Metroparks of Toledo, but he also blessed our community with the National Center for Nature Photography at Secor Metropark. For those in the area who don't yet know this hidden gem, do yourself a favor and check it out. Exhibits are always changing and always awesome!
At any rate, Art sees tremendous opportunity for Standing Rush because we have both the scale and the solitude to offer something meaningful. We're large enough at ~600 acres (1) not only to draw unique and consistent wildlife but also (2) to offer a buffer from the outside world. You might think the highways bisecting our property in both directions would be a hindrance. While they certainly cut both ways, you'd be amazed how easily they are tuned out -- by people and wildlife. And unlike the national refuges and state wildlife areas, we can offer a photographer good chances to see something cool at close range without the risk of being busted by an unsuspecting birdwatcher or hiker with her dog. We hope that we can add photography clinics to our growing list of activities in 2017.
What could possibly be exciting about this image? Note the subtle greens under the water and the duck feather in the lower left corner, and I'll explain . . .
Well, you might have to be a bit of a wetland freak to truly be excited by this photo. (I'll admit, I'm guilty as charged.) But when Roy passed this image along -- and several others just like it -- this week, I know we were both thrilled at what we are seeing.
I spent some of last evening adding some content under the "2016" tab above. The West Marsh Dike Rehabilitation story (scroll down just a bit on that page) provides some helpful additional context to today's photo. But essentially, because
(1) we were able to draw water off a 40-acre area that has historically been called the "Rest Pond" (because no hunting was allowed in it to provide refuge for ducks), and because
(2) we were able to rebuild a large earthen dike directly adjacent to the pond to better influence what grows in it, we were able to
(3) seed and nurture a bumper "crop" of Japanese millet within these 40 acres.
All of this happened last summer, but the millet "strategy" wasn't just beneficial for a single season. Even though this plant is not native and is an annual (only grows for a single season), it has some remarkably useful attributes that persist. I will get into more detail as I continue the 2016 summary, but essentially, this grass-like plant converted what was a shallow pond of "chocolate milk" (muddy water) into a 2016 waterfowl buffet. The millet offered great cover. It grew in dense stands to 8' tall. But the seed-heavy terminal ends of the lush growth sagged temptingly into 2-3' of water, creating convenient openings for glutinous dining.
While the ducks gorged on millet seed in late summer through fall, they executed on two critical goals: (1) they spilled enough millet to provide a chance for decent self-seeding of some millet for 2017, and (2) they deposited all the seeds of all the other desirable plant species we want introduced into the Rest Pond as contents passed through the ducks' digestive tracks. (That's right, seeds do get carried by ducks -- and very effectively, I might add.)
So the feather in the photo above is symbolic of our unsuspecting restoration partners -- in this case, ducks. And the green represents this spring's first harbingers of new and diverse life in what will be a really fun restoration story to continue to witness. Isn't nature grand?
As the spring rain returns and April snow lurks in the forecast, here's another taste of summer. The raw footage above was taken via drone in July 2015 -- just a few months after we took possession of the property -- by a brother's friend and neighbor who happens to be a videographer for public television.
While each snippet he took that day was more exciting to view than the last, this is one of my favorites. As the camera pans down and then gains altitude over the first 30 seconds, the distinction between individual stems of light green Phragmites and dark green cattail (a more desirable) is clearly evident. (More on the cattail story later . . .)
This visual distinction ended up being an incredibly helpful realization from a management perspective as we first delineated vegetative cover over the entire 600-acre site. Once we had the Phrag identified by air, we could compare it to the most recent Google Earth flyover, compare that to our ground-truthing in the field, and then confirm discrete areas that were infested with a monoculture of the noxious reed. I can say with a good deal of confidence that 90%+ of the Phragmites stems that appear in the video above were safely and efficiently sprayed and killed just a couple months after this footage was recorded. Pretty stinkin' awesome. Again, more on that later . . .
This video came to mind this morning for two reasons: (1) it helps provide some visual context of large portions of the West Marsh at least, and (2) I love how it feels like it puts the viewer "in the weeds" -- meaning, "into the details."
It was almost spontaneous, but yesterday marked the day that I introduced this online journal to a broader audience. I stepped beyond family and friends to begin to try to share it with a wider circle (largely via Facebook, LinkedIn, and a couple specific email groups). As we get further "in the weeds" together, I really want to know what you want to read more about. I have lots of ideas, literally dozens and dozens of short stories, I'd like to share with a photo or two and a few words. And I know our time in the field will offer a constant barrage of additional, currently unforeseen and spontaneous opportunities to share.
But I want to get a feel for what you are most interested in. If you have ideas, feel free to include them by clicking "Post a comment" below, or if you are more comfortable, I'm happy to receive feedback via email (see "Contact Us"). Thanks in advance for the suggestions!
Common carp and goldfish hand-dipped from our spillway thanks to moving water and a temperature gradient
(largest carp could go 12-lbs and goldfish could tip the scales near 3-lbs)
There is a formula that holds true on marshes connected to Lake Erie:
Moving Water + Water Temperature Variation = Carp (usually big carp)
Roy just witnessed this universal truth as the West Pump got underway. Within an hour of being turned on, the warmer/shallower marsh water being pumped into the cooler/deeper bay water had drawn a crowd. While a broad spectrum of fish species are attracted to moving water and temperature variations, carp are the proverbial bulls in the china shop. Their size (probably averaging 5-lbs at our spillway but often surpassing 15 or even 20-lbs) makes them hard to miss. But so does their behavior. They pride themselves in wallowing in the mud, sucking at the surface of the water, or usually both. Schools look like a displaced barnyard scene, and as such, they always remind me of unruly pigs either vying for the last kernels of corn or playing rugby -- it looks about the same.
While both of the above are again invasive species, they have been here a long time and as such have become integrated -- like it or not -- into the broader ecosystem. Numbers of common carp have boomed and busted over the ~125 years they have been in Lake Erie. They were originally brought from Europe as a prized food source, but their propensity to pull bottom sediment ("mud") through their mouths to filter out food items has made them less palatable for many. This behavior, along with their size, makes them prone to bioaccumulation -- or the cumulative increase of substances of nasties such as pesticides, heavy metals, and the like into an organism's tissue.
Still, there is and has been a fairly consistent market for carp -- particularly live carp -- in the commercial fishing industry. Many of the fish are trucked in "live trucks" or "live cars" (by rail) to large markets on both the East and West Coasts. I will definitely get further into the topic of commercial fishing, as it is integral to the human history of the lake shore and our property.
SIDEBARS:
(1) Common carp can be both a blessing and a curse when it comes to vegetative management in the marsh. Too many means excessive water turbidity (cloudiness) and a dramatic reduction in plant diversity; none at all can mean excessive water clarity which can actually lead to the proliferation of undesirable, often invasive species (e.g., Flowering Rush, Butomus umbellatus). As with so many things, it is a balancing act.
(2) A future post will have to address the topic of "carp exclusions" or metal grates specifically designed to prevent the passage of carp through a given area. Our spillway is equipped with a very rudimentary set, but at one time the concrete sluice was actually designed not only to attract but to trap carp so that commercial fishermen could readily (note I didn't say simply) net them and transfer them to live tanks. The spillway was essentially a carp trap.
A wetland "restorability" map that highlights specific areas along the southwest shoreline of Lake Erie that are candidates for restoration of wetland habitats. The area circled in black is all of Sandusky Bay.
The area circled in red is our marsh -- a lot of yellows, oranges, and reds means great potential.
Roy and I were invited to be part of a
select 50 or-so individuals who attended a press conference put on by the Ohio
EPA this morning at Cedar Point. Most of the seats were filled with higher-ups
from various agencies and/or politicians (including Sen. Randy Gardner (R), who
spoke of the tremendous importance of the Lake and lakeshore, locally,
nationally, and even globally).
The hoopla involved an oversized check (with
seven digits after the $) presented to the City of Sandusky. These funds will help in the “creation”
of up to four coastal marsh environments. But more importantly, the “Sandusky
Bay Initiative” marks the official commencement of what will be a multi-agency/stakeholder
effort to improve the condition of the waters surrounding our marsh.
Whether this specific program impacts
Standing Rush directly or not remains to be seen, but it is yet another example
of the attention our region is rightfully receiving. Lake Erie truly is our
greatest natural resource. And the habitats that help protect its waters most –
wetlands – are in significant peril.
According to the U.S. Fish & Wildlife
Service, the United States' Lower 48 has lost over 50-percent of its wetland acreage since the
country was first colonized. Approximately one-third of these total losses can
be attributed to just seven states in the Midwest farm belt – including Ohio. According
to the U.S. Geological Survey, at 90-percent wetland loss, Ohio ranks second only
to California (at 91-percent) in the entire nation for losses in wetland
habitat.
Prior to European settlement, the
wetlands associated with Lake Erie’s southwest shoreline (collectively referred
to as The Great Black Swamp) encompassed more than 1,500 square miles – an area
larger than the Florida Everglades. As of the late 1980s, less than 60 square
miles or approximately 37,000 acres remained. That represents a staggering 96%
loss.
Current estimates suggest that the
remaining acreage of coastal wetlands in the region now stands at somewhere between
20,000 and 30,000 acres. The broad range in this estimate relates back to how a
coastal wetland is defined. But independent of the figure accepted, it is
impossible to deny that the number of total acres continues to decline. And it
is also impossible to deny that at somewhere around 2-percent of all that
remains, Standing Rush’s holdings are critically important.
