Introducing "Pumpzilla"

This 5,000-gal/minute "portable" pump would fit under the category of
Things I Never in One Million Years Thought I'd Own

As near-record water levels in Lake Erie (and by association, Sandusky Bay) exacerbate our challenges within the marsh to bring water levels down (to broaden the footprint of Japanese millet seeding -- see yesterday's post below), we have found ourselves wrestling with some "new" equipment. But as with so many things in marsh country, this equipment is anything but new. Per usual, it's old . . . and repurposed.

I first laid eyes on "Pumpzilla" -- our affectionate name for the beast pictured here -- a year or so ago. While still hulking in scale, it was somewhat unassuming then, sitting dormant amidst overgrown grass beside a neighbor's barn. If you would have told me then that I'd eventually be the proud owner of this monstrosity, I would have said you're nuts.

But marsh management is often about timing, and when our neighbor said he had no use for the pump, Roy's wheels started turning -- especially when we were told it could be ours for "free."

If we are to have any chance to execute on our most aggressive 2017 goals for the East Marsh (complete with ~80 acres of millet seeding), we only have at most a couple weeks to get the water off. We have 30 acres in the books, but the remaining 50 will be interesting to say the least. We've been dry recently in terms of precip, but a leaking dike off-site has been plaguing our ability to make progress on our broader vision for this growing season.

Whether this pump bails us out of our current bind or not,
if we can get it and keep it running, it will prove to be
a valuable asset to augment our two main electric pumps

So step one was to see if we could get this beast of a pump set up and running (no small feat). That has been accomplished, but step two is equally important: keep the pump running. Despite some preventative maintenance (a new fuel pump, some new belts, oil change, grease everywhere, etc.) on the JD diesel engine, we only got about an hour of run time on Tuesday before the water pump (within the engine itself) failed.

Now, we wait for the part, cross our fingers that it will prove to be the end of the maintenance money pit, and then cross our toes that it will keep running long enough to overcome the rain and afternoon thunderstorms that are sure to come over the next couple weeks.

I've been reminded many times over the last few years focused on this project that this type of land management takes a lot of planning, a lot of sweat, a lot of resources, and probably more than anything, a good amount of good luck. Time will tell.


Pumpzilla's discharge dwarfs the neighbor's stationary (electric) pump in the background. We are told that it made its way here from Florida, where it was used to prevent orange groves from flooding!

Welcome WGTE/Public Television

Roy, mid-interview; per usual, his modesty in communicating complex concepts of marsh management
makes the delivery of his message easily digestible and enjoyable

Yesterday afternoon, we were flattered at the opportunity to tour two talented, young videographers from WGTE (Toledo's public media outlet) around the marsh. To their credit, Kaitlyn and Courtney weren't deterred by decent chances of afternoon thunderstorms, unpredictably warm temps (5-10 degrees above the forecast), or a dewpoint that lead to oppressive humidity at times through the late afternoon and evening.

As the skies opened and the rain poured down the heaviest (literally just as their van pulled in the driveway), we were all feeling a bit sheepish about our collective decision to move forward with our plans. But both the weather gods and the wildlife gods ultimately shined upon us. I think our guests were pleased with the amount of activity in front of their cameras, and we were pleased with the opportunity to continue to tell our story to a broader audience.

Cedar waxwing; tough light, dense cover,
still such a cool bird

Good friend Steve Pollick (retired Outdoors Editor from The Blade) was the initial catalyst for this outing. Ever and ally and an advocate of mine, Steve finally approached me with an opportunity to help him on one of his projects. Flight Path: The World of Migratory Birds is a really exciting project being spearheaded by WGTE and the Black Swamp Bird Observatory (BSBO). Both are leaders in their respective arenas, and both put an extreme premium on presenting their passions with professionalism. (As a sidebar, northwest Ohio should count both among a shortlist of community gems.)

The video embedded in the link above begins to tell the story of Flight Path, but in essence it's an opportunity to spotlight the critical role of northwest Ohio in the intercontinental migration of literally dozens and dozens of bird species. The creative team has already collected footage in Panama and they are heading into Ontario next week. We were flattered that they were interested in collecting footage at Standing Rush as part of the story in between.

The modest images presented here will pale in comparison to what they captured while we were together. Spoiler alert -- highlights included but weren't limited to: a fairly close encounter with a pair of trumpeter swans and five young (2-week old) cygnets, literally 40+ eagles (mostly juveniles), lots of wading birds (a determined great egret chasing minnows proved to be a favorite), a couple indigo buntings, and of course plenty of other illusive song birds -- including our resident swarm of yellow warblers.

Had to include this candid shot of a yellow warbler;
they proved to be Kaitlyn's nemesis but this one cooperated
with me as Roy was being interviewed by the bunkhouse
(I'm pretty sure this male is guarding a nest in a portable
duck blind near our shop)

The bonus of last night's effort is that in addition to providing b-roll footage for the birding documentary, the visuals and running commentary will also be edited into one or more short video pieces to support a national/international effort called Rare: Creatures of the Photo Ark.

You can learn more about renowned photographer Joel Sartore and his productions by visiting his "visual ark." Our involvement comes with the project's broader goal to take land preservation and wildlife conservation to the local, grassroots level. Our story will join many others, large and small, to help speak to the power of a collective force toward conservation. They may serve as stand-alone pieces, but they will also help promote the broader project. It's a classic example of "think globally, act locally."

We're pleased to be included and will certainly provide updates and links as finished products become available.

Kaitlyn chasing herons and egrets through the southern unit of the West Marsh; breaks in the clouds even allowed for some
blue sky and nice evening light (I was struck by how much greener everything looked compared to just a short week or so ago)

P.S. A flock of eight American white pelicans visited our East Marsh just before the film crew arrived. This is the second time in a week and the third time this year we've gotten to see them. Unfortunately, they didn't stick around to pose for the cameras!

Millet from the Heavens

Sometimes you can practically feel the heat from a photo; the mercury had already hit 89 degrees when this image
was taken just after 8:00 am yesterday morning (the afternoon high was somewhere in the mid-90s)

Brian Gibbs of Gibbs Aero Spray in Fremont makes this work
look easy; 600-lbs of seed evenly broadcast in <20 minutes

For the second year in a row I spent about 20-30 minutes on the morning of my birthday (yesterday) watching millet seed get dropped from an airplane onto the fresh mud of a recent drawdown. Last year, we targeted the 40-acre "Rest Pond" on the West Marsh. This year, we turned our attention to a 30-acre swath that serves as the "Center Unit" of our East Marsh.

Because of some ongoing issues on an adjacent property, we have been forced to pump more or less continuously for weeks without much visual progress. Last Thursday, we directed our attention on the Center Unit and -- by closing off pipes to the rest of the eastern side -- focused the entire pump on this relatively small cell.

Dedicated pumping coupled with very warm, dry weather took 12-24" of water more or less shimmering mud by Monday. Evaporation of just about all but the deep water canals (foreground of the photos) made for pretty ideal seeding conditions by yesterday.

There is a pretty extensive explanation of the motivations for this management technique provided as part of last year's project summaries, but in essence, millet serves as a cover crop that can act like an emergent wetland plant, and because of fast growth and robust seed production provides a handful of really beneficial attributes in very short amount of time.

Within 60 days, this seed should grow into a thick canopy that stands 6-8' tall. This quick response offers near immediate shelter/habitat for a surprisingly broad range of wildlife. Many stems and a complex root structure help "stabilize" the water column, making it clearer and more conducive to germination and growth of other beneficial plants. By the middle to end of August, each individual plant should produce heavy seed heads -- laden with literally thousands of carb-rich seed -- that should attract waterfowl (and blackbirds!) in big numbers. As the visitors dine, they also replant the substrate beneath them with other desirable plant seeds that have passed through individual digestive tracts. Finally, as the millet (an annual) dies back in the fall and winter, it provides a clean, rich substrate for all the newcomers to develop in -- not just next spring but over subsequent growing seasons.


P.S. If the stars align perfectly, we may end up seeding another 50 acres on the East Marsh with millet yet this month. We are running out of time though. We need to get a lot of water moved and the clock is ticking; if we don't seed by the end of June, the seed isn't apt to mature in time to maximize the benefit.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION: Please Excuse Our Mess

An adult cliff swallow eagerly picks up freshly exposed mud as construction material to add to a nearby nesting colony

Recently, Julie (one of our seasonal interns) made the suggestion that it would be neat to capture the very active nest building behavior of a colony of cliff swallows that is currently taking advantage of our pumping on the Rest Pond. Fresh mud is apparently a big draw because a few nights ago I witnessed a few dozen birds in nearly constant motion, roundtripping between the edge of the receding water and the underside of our Route 2 connection to the estuary. (Amazingly, a constant pulse of cars and trucks thundering overhead do not seem to be a deterrent!)

Despite the fact that this went on for literally more than an hour (or at least the part I watched), it was surprisingly difficult to get individual birds in front of the camera, much less find focus. These acrobatic fliers were even targeting specific areas along the waterline, but as soon as they'd settle to the ground, their heads would quickly plunge into the soft muck, and then they would be back on the wing.

This species is the most colonial swallow in the world and that's saying something for a group known to like company. Nesting settlements can number into the thousands out west, but eastern colonies tend to be considerably smaller. If I had to guess, I would say there were 30-50 birds heavy into nest building under the bridge. But again, this is a hard count to make because these things are in near-constant motion!

Rarely were there more than a couple birds touching the ground at the same time, but over a one-hour stretch the miniature excavation effort was more or less constant

At one point, I did manage to focus on an individual with binoculars enough times to see that I could estimate that each individual beakful of mud looked to be about the size of a pencil eraser. This is meaningful when you consider that the average nest takes about 1,000 such pellets to construct. Males and females work together. They have been observed flying literally miles to find mud of the proper consistency. In our case, the colony is just a hundred yards or so from the source, but that still means a lot of individual wing beats to build a single nest.

A Week of Early Summer Photos

Julie captured this really nice image of the main East Marsh; if the gods (and our equipment) stay on our side, we will draw most of this water off over the next couple weeks to expose 100+ acres to what we anticipate will be an explosion of vegetative growth

Weeks literally feel like they are going by like days lately. I guess that means it's summer! I'm going to play a little catch up and share some of my favorite photos since Memorial Day weekend. As day light continues to lengthen, opportunities to get things accomplished outside increase, but it also gets harder and harder to stay disciplined about downloading what’s on the SD card!

Again, here are some highlights:

I often wonder how people would react to seeing mallards if they were rare (instead of the most common duck in North America);
taken in isolation, they truly are beautiful birds -- yet another instance of "common" too often leading to taken for granted

Frogs are starting to become more visible;
Julie snapped this nice photo of a well-camouflaged leopard 

And where there are frogs there are typically snakes;
this common watersnake gave me a great opportunity for closeups

At 30" or so and right at my feet, I have to admit this one got my attention

This docile DeKay's brown snake maxes out at 12-15" and
is more interested in earthworms than frogs

I am routinely finding them now as I clear downed logs
or move anything that has been sitting on the ground for an extended time

Like the mallard, this red-winged blackbird is extremely common . . . and extremely striking at close range

We continue to be overrun with yellow warblers, and this individual really put on a show for the camera

Just because it's invasive (monk thistle) doesn't mean it can't be beautiful;
I didn't even notice the ants until the image was "developed"

Opportunistic egrets always seem to find food in fluctuating water

Click to enlarge to see some of the ~150 that have been frequenting 40 acres of shallowly flooded millet residue

This male oriole has set-up shop in the largest cottonwood next to the bunkhouse; his vibrant colors
make it hard for me to put the camera down every time that I have to leave

A Growing Number of Youth Fishermen

Eagles have more or less been a constant fixture on the new West dike since we have begun drawing water down
off the 40-acre Rest Pond

I feel like the proverbial "broken record," but water levels drive activity on the marsh. That has become a recurring theme not only in my day-to-day reality, but has been a constant for the broad diversity of wildlife that utilizes the property. Our Rest Pond (last year's millet) is now drawn down to the point that the remaining basin fluctuates between maybe 5 acres of skim water after a decent rain to maybe 3 acres after a few hours of pumping (15-30 minutes at a time).

Every time we run the pump, what was relatively calm surface water begins to boil with nervous fish. Isolated splashes gradually progress to exposed backs and frantic runs for deeper water. Deep is a relative term. The remaining basin is no more than 12-18" deep at its deepest, but most of the area now holds 6" of water or less. Still, it is likely serving as refuge for hundreds, if not thousands, of carp along with a modest diversity of other species (e.g. bowfin, bullheads, bluegills, largemouth bass, and lots and lots of topminnows).

I spent probably an hour one evening late last week watching juvenile eagles hover in a stiff southwest wind just over the water's surface. Occasionally, one would awkwardly land and stumble over a carp's back. The muscular fish would often deter anything beyond an exploratory prod with the talons and swim off to live another day (or at least another few minutes). The most determined eagles would eventually sink their claws -- and then beaks -- into the cornered fish.

I was amazed at how often the most determined birds did the catching only to get flushed off their kill by another eagle. Juveniles relented to each other, but most often, I was watching the young struggle to get a catch, only to get pushed away by a larger, bolder adult.

I'm taking these photos/video from nearly 1,000 feet away, so the resolution isn't great. But they start to give a feel for the daily ritual. It has become common to see up to a dozen (or more) eagles on the dike at any given time. They seem to enjoy balancing their days between sunning, squawking, fishing, and just stretching their wings.

It has become increasingly difficult not to take these incredible birds for granted. It seems strange to use the word, but they are most certainly "common." I don't have a good feel for how many are actively using the marsh right now, but it has to be dozens. I'd love to gain a better understanding for where they were all hatched and what their daily/seasonal ranges are apt to be.

Pretty impressive silhouette -- off to another fishing hole

Here's a true "moment in the marsh" that might give you the best feel for what I witnessed the other night (complete with 35+mph sustained winds -- sorry for the shaky video; but not bad at 800+ feet away, using a monopod!) . . .

More Than a Simple Mow

An interior dike in the West Marsh before the first mow of the season (note broadleaf poison hemlock on left
and Phragmites on right and down the center).

Somehow, Memorial Day is already behind us and we're knocking on the door of June. June! Hard to believe, until you consider that kids are finishing (or finished with) school  . . . or until you look at the grass growing -- because you can literally watch it grow this time of year. With the regular cycles of rain and sunshine we've been experiencing, it's easy to feel like you need to mow your lawn every 3-4 days. In the marsh, we try to mow about four times per season, so each cut matters.

The "before" photo taken above illustrates the challenge at hand with routine dike maintenance -- especially if the levee is built such that the "crown" (top) is too narrow to safely navigate with a tractor and 4-5' mower deck (standard equipment on broader dikes).

Honestly, I would have welcomed the view above last year. This ~2,000 linear foot dike (~0.4 mi) serves as our southwestern property boundary, and it also served as the "last frontier" as we regained access to a property that had been largely left untouched for the two years before we took possession. As of last spring, it was the last area of the property where we had yet to re-establish walking -- much less driving -- access. The Phragmites was growing 10'+ high and so densely that I literally could not walk through it.

Our initial efforts to regain access began in April 2016 and involved ramming down the narrow and often winding dike with the MULE. With water on each side, I have to admit it was a bit touch-and-go. We then set fire to the previous year's growth to see what we were really up against and to expose any cavities or voids created by muskrats or groundhogs. (These holes are next to impossible to see with Phrag growing, and can be treacherous to a vehicle and a driver.)

These fires tend to burn hot, high (10-20'+), and fast. They are gratifying for the first week or two where the ground is black and barren and the newly emerging Phrag appears sparse and stunted. But the ash actually serves as a fertilizer and ultimately jump-starts unbelievably rapid and dense growth.

The upside was that we were able to make a good number of structural repairs to the dike and eliminate any woody growth. The bad news was the non-woody vegetation came back with such vengeance that we literally couldn't keep up with a mower last year. The other bad news was that the plants that had the competitive advantage to lay claim to the new real estate were good ol' Phragmites (never killed in the first place) and another invasive new to this story and apparently somewhat new to our area -- poison hemlock. More on that interesting invader to come . . .

This "after" photo taken late last week shows the results from a couple passes with a walk-behind brush mower and cleanup work with a Stihl weedwhip on steroids. 2000' of dike took two of us the better part of an entire day to clear.

P.S. If you are looking for the right tool for this kind of job, consider the Stihl FS110. I was reluctant to pay $1,000 or more for a bike-handle trimmer, so I opted for a slightly "lighter" option. It's still pretty darn beefy, and so far, so good. We purchased it late last summer. Coupled with their brush knife and a body harness, it gets a ton of work done without too much wear and tear on your body. It easily handles everything from Phragmites to bunch grasses, burdock to hemlock, and even smaller (<1") woody dogwoods and willows. Always be careful with this type of equipment. But used properly, they are just plain awesome!

Thanks for the Ongoing Motivation

Joe Kalt, Sr. with his eldest son (Jeff), autumn of 1995.
[What is now our field office is behind them to the left. The roof of the darker building to the right had failed by the time we took possession of the property, so it unfortunately needed to be raised. It is now the site of our storage/workshop.]

I knew going into this project that it would present a true test in patience. While wetland management is about as "instant" as one gets when seeing changes in the landscape, a wise, seasoned marshman (and neighbor) told me from the onset: restoring and protecting wetland habitat "is a marathon, not a sprint."

As we juggle a handful of projects in the field and try to continue to lay the groundwork for a handful more through various potential partnering organizations, I'm learning this lesson firsthand. The uncertainty of the current political climate only compounds the waiting game. (Just yesterday, President Trump presented a federal budget that would completely eliminate $300 million allocated to continue the great work done through the Great Lakes Restoration Initiative or GLRI. While our efforts aren't contingent on this funding, reduction -- much less elimination -- of these funds would have a profound ripple effect.)

Despite all the positive momentum and all the potential that lies in our near-term future, I've spent the last week or so fighting the demons of negativity and pessimism. It's sometimes hard to wait and trust that the right outcomes will play out. I needed a pick-me-up. And as has always been the case with this adventure, I got it just when I needed it -- this time in the form of an email from one of our duck hunting lease holders.

Included with permission from Joe Kalt

Last year I was out of town during the later "big duck" season, and the weather was looking really ducky for the next day. We didn’t have too many days like that last season. High winds 25-30 mph, gusts to 40, rain, cold. I talked to my son Joseph (member of the lease) about getting out there, and he set up the morning hunt with my other older son, Jeff. Jimmy was punting. 

It was one of those days . . . ducks flying in from every direction. Activity and shooting all morning. They finally limited out with a mixed bag of mallards, teal, widgeon, gadwall, woodies, and a goose. Jeff even dropped three teal with one shot! 

It’s really the first time either of them have hunted waterfowl without me. I’ve never seen either of them SO excited to tell about their hunt. They had the best time of their young hunting careers, especially doing it together on their own. They both said they will remember that hunt for the rest of their lives!  I was so happy for them because they’ve been with me through the good times and a lot of the blue bird days where we never pulled the trigger. The stories about that day just keep on rolling. They can’t wait to get out there again.

My boys will never forget that day, nor will I, even though I wasn’t there! This is why we do what we do as good stewards of the land, isn’t it? To pass it on to future generations to enjoy as we have. Thanks for taking over that marsh and for having the vision to do what you are doing, and letting us be a part of it. Just needed to let you know how what you are doing is affecting others . . . 

Truly blessed to be so fortunate. Have a great day. -- Joe 

This story highlights several fundamental pillars of our mission. There is clearly a recreational component. Several of the guys who are leasing our West Marsh for the duck season have hunted these same blinds for years, decades. They have hunted with their grandfathers, fathers, uncles, sons, and grandsons. (While duck hunting tends to be a male-dominated pursuit, trust that some girls/women have hunted the property, too!). But more than just hunting, this activity has fostered a practical education and deep-seeded conservation ethic in the lives of those who have been able to experience it firsthand. Sure these hunters love to have a day of fantastic shooting like the one described above, but what they love even more is seeing the sun rise on the cattails. Nothing beats seeing nature "wake up," and nothing compares to just "being" in the marsh.

Thanks Joe, for the ongoing motivation.

____________________________
The photo at left was taken in November 2016, on the morning described above. 
Thanks to Jeff and Joe, Jr. for the visual reference to a memorable morning in the marsh.

Three Birds of Note: Ibis & Pelicans

This glossy ibis was one of four that visited the millet late last week. By Saturday morning, they were accompanied by an equally rare relative, a pair of white-faced ibis.

Birding is all about timing. Right place, right time. And speaking of time, I just haven't had much to report on several exciting visitors over the last several days. But before I do, some backstory . . .

Millet by Thursday afternoon
(note egrets in mud to right of channel,click to enlarge)

Last Thursday, we started the West pump in an effort to expose more "mud" in what was 40-acres of millet last fall. We were at a tipping point. What might have been 4-8" of water over 20 acres to start the day shrunk to maybe half as much water over half as much area over the course of the entire day of moving water.

Our goal in pumping this unit at this point in the season is to expose more soil to direct sunlight because even a few inches of water can prevent the germination of the desirable vegetation we are trying to promote. It's somewhat of a cat and mouse game with precipitation.

This stage of a drawdown tends to be pretty dynamic -- not only in terms of the change in water levels, but in how the wildlife responds. I unfortunately couldn't be there myself, but Roy tells me that by early afternoon, the dwindling water was simultaneously visited by 146 great egrets (he counted!) and four individuals that literally had cars pulling over on the Route 2 overpass. Glossy ibis are known for their curved bills and their propensity to East Coast living. This burgundy to black wader looks like something out of Dr. Seuss, and it typically resides along the Atlantic Coast, from Maine to Florida, into the Caribbean and even Central and South America. But according to the ODNR, this species may not make it into Ohio for multiple years at a time, so seeing four at once (three in one blurry camera frame) was pretty exciting!

Eager bird watchers (apparently alert even when driving by at 65 mph) congregated on the shoulder of our exit with spotting scopes from Thursday until Saturday morning -- when the ibis ultimately pulled out. Fresh rains pushed the water up another few inches, making a mealtime dip uncomfortable even for the larger egrets. [They are like walking staff gauges; great egrets only like water <6" deep, while great blue herons will frequent water up to 12" deep.]

But before the rains fell, one particularly enthusiastic and seasoned birder from Cincinnati confirmed Roy's hunch. Four ibis had become six, and the last two to join the party were an even rarer visitor, the strikingly similar white-faced ibis. The two share feeding behaviors, and both apparently like to wander far afield of their typical range. The white-faced is widely distributed west of the Mississippi, and even takes up year-round residence in mid- to southern South America. Unfortunately for us, they don't like to have their pictures taken!

Documented on "East Medusa Marsh"
through former site Aves.net

One final birding note worth noting: as we closed up shop for the evening today, we were treated to a flyby from three of the biggest birds one can see in Ohio: the American white pelican. With a wingspan up to 9.5', they are tough to miss, but again, they are not a common sight in the Buckeye State. I have come across historical photo evidence that they have been documented on our East Marsh in the past. While they seemed to give it a look (breaking their wings to interrupt their telltale glide), they apparently had their minds set on something even further east -- even further from their typical range.

Pretty neat stuff.

Continuing to Keep Eyes to the Sky

A 45-minute walk and a quick drive around the West Marsh in the MULE produced a decent sampling of what was on the wing as the north winds shifted south 

(clockwise: black swallowtail, American goldfinch, least sandpiper, Baltimore oriole, gray catbird, and eastern kingbird)

My sister's recent visit prompted me to spend a little more quality time with the camera. Coming on the heals of The Biggest Week in American Birding (something I'll continue to remind is worthy of a note in your calendar for 2018), it's particularly tempting to keep one's eyes to the sky. As of Monday, I'd say our warbler activity was still low to moderate compared to the last two springs -- except for yellow warblers, who are apparently congregating in massive numbers at our property to stage some kind of yellow-feathered mutiny. They are everywhere! The more common summertime residents also put on a show against the unbelievably blue, spring sky. The collage above is just a sampling of some that posed for the camera.

Bird activity on the marsh is definitely on the uptick, and the wind has FINALLY shifted south/southwest (as of Tuesday), ushering in higher temperatures, lower bay levels, and more birds. Yesterday was a busy day in the field. With temperatures tickling the 90-degree mark for the first time this spring, my hands were often too sweaty to handle the camera. That said I did spend the end of the day following a Baltimore Oriole as it sought out the perfect perch in the lush greenery of one of the large cottonwoods near the bunkhouse. When I see -- and hear -- the orioles in the tall trees, I know school is winding down, and summer is just around the corner!

This vibrant male was much more interested in singing than he was posing for the camera;
remember to click on any image to enlarge and click here to hear this bird

Midges, Midges & More Midges!

This closeup of the upper corner of our shop door (~2 sq. ft. of it) was taken after numbers started to decline.
The heat of the day seemed to push them to the shade and then ultimately, off the buildings.

Yesterday, the marsh was visited by millions of guests -- my sister and brother-in-law were two of them; most of the rest came from a different family: Chironimidae. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), these visitors did not come by car or bus. Most came on the wing.

There are a great number of different species in this taxonomic group, but generically, those who perhaps most notably frequent the Lake Erie coast are referred to most often as "midges." Other colloquial names include "muffleheads" and "muckleheads" -- both references to their "furry looking" antennae, I believe. I've also found reference to them as "Canadian soldiers," but I think that nickname is misplaced. Instead, I believe that is a local label for mayflies -- which will have to be a topic for another day.

Midges are often mistaken for mosquitoes, but in this case (again, fortunately), they do not bite or carry disease. They are very roughly similar in appearance, but the species we most often see in marsh country tends to be larger (~3/8" long), wider, and a bit clumsier in flight. Singly or in isolated groups, they can even be mistaken for small moths, but as the photo above demonstrates, there was nothing small about their abundance earlier this week. Monday morning, when I arrived at the bunkhouse, I would have been hard-pressed to find a place to set my finger without smushing a midge or two!

Like mosquitoes, midges spend most of their life cycle in the water -- awaiting the seasonal temperature cues of spring and summer to trigger emergence -- often in staggering numbers. This is another example of the genius of nature. While the three of us (humans) were busy breathing through our teeth (to avoid the inevitable bug up the nose or to the back of the throat), migrating songbirds were gorging on these prolific and well-timed nutrient bundles. I can't vouch for midges being very tasty, but to a weary warbler fueling up for the ~40 mile non-stop flight to Ontario, they are a welcomed snack. It's striking to me that the vast emergence of these (and other) critters is perfectly choreographed with bird migrations (in both directions) and with nesting -- another nutrient-demanding activity -- for those who call the marsh a summertime home.

Alder or willow flycatcher
in Monday's sunshine,
likely following a breakfast of midges
with a side order of more midges

 A few other midge "fun facts" (you know you want some!):

• Some researchers believe that large midge "hatches" are a sign of increased pollution and/or low oxygen zones, while other researchers believe that they indicate a cleaner Lake Erie.
• The pollution tolerance of midges are very specific to the individual species. With over 10,000 species worldwide, there are a lot of variables and a lot of reasons for debate!
• Midges tend to spend months or years under water only to live hours to at most a couple weeks on land/in the air.
• Midges tend to be loved by Cleveland fans, particularly Cleveland Indians fans, because a well-timed emergence that blew into Jacobs Field in 2007 rattled a Yankees pitcher (Joba Chamberlain) so badly that he gave up two runs in a 2-0 Indians post-season win!

"I had no idea . . ."

While the audio is hard to pick up, Roy is pointing out how the West Marsh spillway is conveying water that has filtered through literally hundreds of acres of our marsh before it is released (in a "cleaner" state) into Sandusky Bay; 

video taken following a series of heavy rains -- July, 2015

A few nights back, I was talking with my wife about reactions to my posts to this journal. I remain somewhat surprised that most aren't using the built-in comment features, but I am equally interested at the growing feedback I receive via email and even in person, as the number of readers continues to grow. As the audience broadens, backgrounds become more varied. Yet the most common sentiment seems to be, "I had no idea . . ."

How that sentence is finished depends on the individual (and usually the specifics of what was read), but I was struck when my wife said virtually the same thing. "Most people have no idea why all this is so important."

"All this" is a big topic. So I guess I'll start with why I see wetland conservation and restoration as so vital to each and every one of us. More specifically, I'd like to focus on one particular reason that is justifiably getting a lot of area press -- particularly since late summer, three years back.

The City of Toledo’s multi-day drinking water ban of August 2014 put wetlands and their ties to Lake Erie water quality very much at the forefront of local, regional, and even national media coverage. Often referred to as “nature’s kidneys,” coastal marshes are the last line of defense to convert excess nutrients (most notably phosphorus) to plant growth before entering a lake like Erie – where the overly abundant nutrients can nourish nuisance algal blooms. Wetland environments also take up a wide array of other chemicals and compounds – think natural and manufactured fertilizers, herbicides, pesticides, oils & greases, road salts, and even pharmaceuticals – to name a few. Wetlands have an innate ability to lock these "nasties" and more into growth forms (i.e., plants) that often do an amazing job of breaking them down into much less hostile elements.

This takes a diversity of organisms, time, and space. So when 300,000+ acres of coastal marsh on the Western Basin of Lake Erie (pre-European settlement) dwindles to less than 30,000 acres (present day), why is what remains so important? I'd like to share a few excerpts from columnist Jack Lessenberry's May 5, 2017 article from The Blade to help make the connection between preservation, restoration, and clean drinking water:

Few people know Lake Erie as well as Jeffrey Reutter, the recently retired director of the Ohio Sea Grant and Stone Laboratory on the lake . . . 

A few weeks ago, at a “Farmers Together” forum on saving Lake Erie, I asked him what would happen if President Trump’s budget ending all funds for the Great Lakes Restoration Initiative and slashing funds for the EPA becomes reality. 

The scientist, who is anything but an alarmist, responded instantly. “We can no longer count on Lake Erie producing safe drinking water for the 11 million people it now serves.”

To me, these few sentences sum up what has (rightfully) become a media blitz on the topic of safe and reliable drinking water. The need is obviously real, and the impact is broad. At the risk of being perceived as an extremist or alarmist myself: while there are many crucially important causes out there, I believe wetlands are at the heart of something vital to our very existence.

I'll write more on wetland's many values and functions in the days and weeks to come.

A Continuation of the Millet Story: One Man's Weed is Another's Treasure

What now looks pretty sterile and nondescript is going to change dramatically in the next several weeks

We've now had just enough sunshine and warmer temperatures that we can start talking wetland plants again -- in the present tense. But as is so often the case, patience is a must. As you'll see below, we're going to start modestly.

I finally circled back and told the first several chapters of the Japanese Millet Story: West Marsh Edition. You can find the narrative on the bottom half of the 2016 summary page. But the images I share today are a continuation of this restoration initiative.

Quickly, let me provide some context. The 40-acre "Rest Pond" that resides just to the north of the newly rehabbed dike on our West Marsh has been maintained in a "deep water" state for years (maybe decades). Deep is a relative term, but when we took possession of the property, it was 3-4' deep with next-to-no life, much less vegetation in it (aside from several thousand carp that happily rooted through the soft sediment and patches of invasive curly-leaf pondweed as they passed between the marsh and bay).

This basin of "chocolate milk" has undergone a major transformation in the last 13 months (again, refer to the bottom of the 2016 summary page), but essentially, we drained it (May/June), seeded it with millet (June), let it grow all last summer (June-August), flooded it again in the fall to coax more duck activity(August - November), and then are draining it again this spring.

The photo at the top of this post shows where we are today (or this past Tuesday, anyway). It might not look like much from a landscape view, but what's going on at ground level is pretty exciting.

The close-up to the left shows a virtual carpet of newly emerging smartweed (in all likelihood Polygonum lapathifolium or P. pennsylvanicum -- a little early to distinguish). While only 2" tall, this is a really good sign. Last year's efforts seem to be paying dividends already. These seed-rich annuals will provide good cover and high energy to a broad array of waterfowl and wildlife.

By attracting outsiders to forage, this smartweed prompts what I like to call "digestive contributions" -- essentially, importing desirable seed sources through the digestive process: in the mouth somewhere else (maybe up or down the bay), and out the other end in our marsh!

It practically took being on our hands and knees to see the modest starts of thin-bladed grasses barely visible in the bare margins of the millet (see right). We hope that these individuals will ultimately prove to be rice cutgrass (Leersia oryzoides) or any of dozens of other grass-like species that offer the two key attributes that the smartweeds above offer: good forage and good cover.

Ideally, we will end up with a diverse mix of many of these "desirables," as I like to call them. High diversity of many plant species interspersed within a given area is almost always preferred over a monoculture (one species in a given area). Again, time will tell, but trust that we will be watching closely as the "Rest Pond" evolves!

While I'll readily admit that I'm not going to win any photography contests for any of these photos, it's also worth noting that we found some not-so-desirable plant species showing themselves among the skeletons of last year's millet. (NOTE that you can click on most photos to enlarge.) The spindly starts to the left are flowering rush (Butomus umbellatus), and unlike our namesake, are neither native nor desirable. We don't anticipate huge outbreaks, but we figured we'd have to stay vigilant and spot-treat them as we find them. The broader leaves of the plant on the right are another smartweed (P. amphibium), but they are less desirable because they tend to grow aggressively in a monoculture, and they don't provide much food value. The good news for us here is that they prefer expanses of open water, and they will likely get out competed before they can really get a foothold.

That's probably enough botany for today. I promise I'll try to have a little more color to display next time -- as long as our stubborn spring continues to bump warmer and brighter!

Rising Water Not Just About the Rain

Crew in action; Roy gets a hand from Julie and Nate installing a staff gauge on the West Pump spillway.
Gauges will be placed in seven or eight locations around the site to help us more accurately quantify
both nature- and human-induced water level fluctuations.

Considering that more than 3" of rain fell in 48 hours late last week and winds have been N, E, NE, or NW for ten straight days (with a forecast for ten more days of those wind directions), water levels are on the brain. May to June typically ushers in the highest annual water levels on Lake Erie. While this is shaping up to be the case this year, this spring has been anything but typical.

High water over the next month or two is tied to high levels of precipitation here and "upstream," as ice and snow melt in the northern Great Lakes and spring rains fall both up north and locally. Seiche (pronouced saysh) events often compound the raising water, especially with an active storm cycle this time of year.

If you have observed water sloshing back and forth in a bathtub or other confined basin, you witnessed a small-scale seiche. On a much larger scale, the same phenomenon occurs in bodies of water such as bays and lakes. A seiche can occur in any semi- or fully-enclosed body of water.

Seiches are typically caused when strong winds and rapid changes in atmospheric pressure push water from one end of a body of water to the other. When the wind stops, the water rebounds to the other side of the enclosed area. The water then continues to oscillate back and forth for hours or even days.

Lake Erie is known for seiche events. Because of the orientation of the lake, seiches are pronounced when strong winds blow from the southwest or northeast. According to NOAA, in 1844, a 22-foot seiche breached a 14-foot-high sea wall on the Western Basin and dammed ice to the extent that Niagara Falls temporarily stopped flowing. As recently as 2008, strong winds created waves 12 to 16 feet high in Lake Erie, leading to flooding near Buffalo, New York.

Because the wind these last couple weeks has been "stacking" water on the western end of Lake Erie (and into Sandusky Bay), and because the forecast suggests it may stay that way for another week or more, our water levels in the bay continue to rise. This elevation in water level is compounded when runoff from recent and very heavy rains have nowhere to go.

The result? Our water levels outside the marsh are as high as they have been in the 2+ years we've been managing the property. The persistence of north/east-dominated winds without a few day break of south/west has been atypical. Roy says he'd struggle to remember such a stretch in his few decades of living and working in marsh country. The good news is, the wind will eventually shift, and water levels outside the marsh will likely go down significantly (probably a foot or more). But in the meantime, we watch and wait.

P.S. Nate just finished up his first year at Hocking College and will be shadowing us this summer. His family has a long history in the area (their cabin resides on the NE corner of the East Marsh), and as a dedicated waterfowl enthusiast, Nate is eager to learn more about relevant biology and resource management. We are excited to have him with us!