February 2021: A Shot of Real Cold

A new month meant sustained cold. Only 10 of the 28 days got above freezing and most of those were on the front end of February. Lows were routinely in the teens or single digits, and we even dipped below zero on a few occasions. While we speculated whether we'd even get "walking ice" or a sustained stretch of "real winter," both ultimately came -- and in earnest.

Toledo tied an all-time record with 19 inches of snow on the ground on February 18, 2021. Most of that was thanks to a single event that brought more accumulation in a single snowfall than any other in my life's history (even more than the fabled "Blizzard of '78").

Most of our attention turned to planning for the upcoming field season. But even as the marsh froze solid, there were tons of opportunities to see the strong pulse of life alive amongst a persistent blanket of snow and ice.

Big ducks (mainly mallards with a few pintails) rise above a mostly frozen early February marsh to a rising sun and a setting moon.

"Our eagles" start to show consistent nesting behaviors in the massive tangle they have carefully constructed in the cottonwood next to the estuary.

It must be even colder up there in that seemingly constant wind.

Pretty hard to miss the nest (or even the protruding head/s of eagles) from afar
(as always, click to enlarge).

Despite sometimes biting cold, Roy never misses the opportunity to take advantage of conditions to keep the place up. Here, brush mowing helps to maintain dikes and access while not interfering with nesting songbirds.

Even a stark haircut will grow back fast, but it keeps large, potentially destructive trees from getting established on dike slopes and it also gives visual evidence of spots that need special attention.

We were able to take advantage of a completely frozen dike and a few thousand residual dollars in an open grant to carry on the erosion protection we started last August.

This work took place to augment the installation and operation of Structure 2, could be squeezed in between major snowfalls, and can be tidied up as needed this coming summer (although something tells me Roy will find a way to get it done before then).

During the coldest of the cold, Roy spent a couple days exploring with his camera. His finds are worth highlighting here (including this active seep on the edge of the West Marsh, a groundwater spring that remained open all day and night despite temperatures well below zero).

Roy caught these candid shots of a coyote crossing over the south dike with a snowy package of mystery meat -- maybe a muskrat? -- being downwind with lots of fresh snow must have helped keep Roy "concealed" from the distracted canine. 

Coyotes are plentiful at Standing Rush (as evidence from our active trail cameras), but it's not very often we even catch a glimpse during broad daylight.

A couple cool shots of another common (but largely nocturnal) mammal of the marsh.

Even in bitter cold, moving water near Structure 1 kept small areas open with shad (in beak above) swimming beneath. This made for some distant (and therefore grainy) images of canvasbacks.

Speaking of grainy, we're still yet to get a good crisp image of one of my favorite marsh birds, the "marsh hawk" or northern harrier. Roy saw individuals scanning the fresh snow on several occasions. 

Unfortunately for this mouse, it was oblivious both of Roy and of the dangers lurking from above. Maybe it was distracted by the sub-zero temps that had it out feeding in the sun when this image was captured.

Roy's return to the same vicinity the next day gave evidence that the mouse (or at least a mouse) and the marsh hawk (or a marsh hawk) were "introduced." (Click to enlarge)

A Week in Review: Historic High Water & A Marathon Mow

The west roadside ditch along SR 269 (right) as it overtook the road last Thursday afternoon; eventually, high water
backed up from a rising Sandusky Bay closed the road in two places between that night and last Sunday afternoon

It has been a volatile (and stressful) week along the lakefront. My post from early March regarding a consistent uptick in water levels over the last few years and particularly over the last few months -- not just on Lake Erie but throughout the Great Lakes -- provides some context . . . and in hindsight, some foreshadowing. Historically high water levels are now front page news locally, regionally, and even nationally.

I feel like I could write a book on the complexity of the situation: not just the variety of environmental factors that directly impact these vast watersheds, but on the layers of scientific research that are grappling with how to make accurate near-term and long-range forecasts. Chapters could also be written on the far-reaching impacts to all those who live and work on or near the lakeshore. These are macro-level forces. They're big, they're vast, and when they are trending into the "uncharted waters" (pun intended) that we find ourselves in now, they are scary.

A shallow excavation reveals the source
of our most pressing issue -- dike breaches
from burrowing muskrats & groundhogs

Roy spent most all of his Mother's Day weekend readying us for the worst and scrambling to react to what Mother Nature was throwing at us. The bayfront stone fortification we did back in March has already proven to be crucial in protecting the main West Marsh, but historically high water levels are now putting physical stress -- in the form of new head pressures -- on portions of the property that would have seemed out of reach just three or four years ago.

We are in the permitting process to rehab the dike that serves as our southern boundary on the west marsh. It is really our last area of significant vulnerability unless water levels just continue to march up (which would have huge impacts not just on marshes but on communities all up and down the southern lakeshore of Lake Erie). This rehab project moved to the top of the priority list about a year ago, as we continued to see water levels and projections tip ever-higher. But until we can get the green light from a regulatory standpoint, we are forced to patch problems as they arise.

High water has caused thousands of dollars in unforeseen damages on this dike in the last twelve months (a few thousand dollars just in the last week). The good news is, we do set aside a "contingency budget" each year because we know to expect the unexpected. The bad news is, we've already about surpassed out budget and it is only May. As water levels surged with three days of sustained east/northeast wind last weekend, we witnessed new leaks forming about as fast as we could repair them. We are holding on -- hopefully until the permits come through and the water starts to recede for the summer. Historically, that trend starts sometime about mid-June. It can't happen soon enough.

The main culprit of our leaks right now (other than the water itself)? Our good friend the muskrat. Because we need to maintain higher water levels within the marsh (to reduce head pressure from rising water outside the marsh), muskrats are given access to new soil within which to dig. And these furry, little excavators are pretty darn adept at digging -- especially when the soils are soft and saturated.

Rats: they can look so "cute" and harmless when basking in the afternoon sun of a dry dike

Sheri Amsel does a nice job depicting what a conventional muskrat "hutch" would look like, say in a pile of decaying cattails. As I wrote on very early on, these water-loving rodents play a vital role in the health of coastal wetlands. However, as they make Swiss cheese of our aging south dike, they risk compromising the very habitat that they depend on -- because if we loose our dike (via a major breach), the water levels within the marsh will surge, the rooted vegetation will be lost, and the muskrat's habitat will go with it. As with so many things in the natural world (especially when human intervention has become complexly intertwined), the balance can be tenuous.

ASIDE: One other side effect of the high water is that we are reluctant to bring a heavy tractor onto our earthen berms to mow. This meant that I got to burn off some of my high-water stress walking behind the 30" deck of our brush mower these last couple days. About eight hours and ~26 miles of walking later, the entire East Marsh has been mowed. I'm a bit sore today, but it feels really good to have this project behind us . . . at least for another few weeks.

Before (left) and after (right) mowing our eastern-most dike. The "before" photo features poison hemlock that was about sternum high.
Now at least we can see if muskrats create any new issues.

That Time of Year Again (Somehow)

Jim navigating our new brush mower over the aftermath of a 4" rain from a week ago;
this season has definitely been loyal to the old adage, "when it rains, it pours"

Somehow, we're in the midst of the annual scramble to ready the marsh for another year of duck hunting. Leases are squared away, and the heavy lifting (the actual habitat management) is an ongoing effort that continues to "trend in the right direction" (as Roy likes to say), but the latter half of August has customarily brought a flurry of hunting-specific activity. Teal season (one of my favorites) opens September 1 -- that's a week from tomorrow!

Jim mowing down a heavily overgrown
spur dike looks more like a game
of Where's Waldo

The punters (remember, those are duck hunting guides) and, to a lesser extent, the hunters have done most of the heavy lifting (literally) over the last few years in this capacity. Prepping blinds is one major project. Structural repairs must inevitably be done. (It's a tough environment for wood construction.) Grasses and cover vegetation ("grassing") needs to be shored up. Some creature-comfort accessories are often added. And typically, some unwanted guests -- e.g., muskrats, hornets, etc. -- must be "discouraged" from continuing to set up shop. Nothing beats sharing a blind with good friends, but long-toothed rodents and paper wasps don't qualify.

Often, there is a desire to improve "shooting holes" (open water expanses intended to draw ducks). Sometimes, these efforts involve manual cutting and clearing of small areas of emergent plants -- in our case, typically cattails. But because we have been holding water high (historically high, actually), that won't be necessary this year.

There is also the matter of prepping punt boats and decoy skiffs . . . varnishing punt poles . . . organizing and tending to decoys. These are fun things that add to the custom, ritual, and the anticipation. But make no mistake: they are work.

Yesterday, we had the opportunity to get after another annual right of passage -- "mowing" (trailblazing) paths to each of the blind access locations. As you can see in the photos above/right, we now have an incredible tool for the job -- thanks to the initiative and generosity of one of our faithful lease holders (THANKS, JOE!). This brush mower is an absolute beast! And while it's hard not to work up a sweat any time this project is on the docket, the right tool makes it so much simpler, safer, and effective.

There are -- and have been -- a ton of projects picking up momentum in the marsh. I'll be elaborating on each of them (e.g., a pending conservation easement, a pending real estate sale, a pending water conveyance improvement project) individually over weeks and months ahead. But yesterday afternoon, it was fun to get a good sweat going and just think about the ducks that should soon be overhead.

One of my projects yesterday was adding the 10" board on the far left (above) to one of our existing hunter boardwalks;
it's only about 30' long, but until the end of the day yesterday, it was only about 26" wide -- the increased
width makes taking the new mower across much less stressful