A Lesson in Evolution

Perhaps the least appreciated "end" of a Great egret

I just had occasion to be in my six-year-olds' kindergarten class for a morning of volunteering. Among other things in a bustling classroom never short on activity, they are in the midst of an extended session learning about birds. The day's specific topic was migration, but as we left, it was clear that birds were on the brain.

In the truck, I asked if they knew where birds came from. (This was not intended to be a precursor to "Where do babies come from?" but I realized as soon as I had asked the question that the conversation could get interesting.)

The brief silence after my question gave me enough time to sneak a peak in the rear view. From what I could tell, the twins were comparing notes with their glances before they offered a response. Soon enough though, one of them piped up, "Lizards, right? Or dinosaurs or something." Even though the topic hadn't been covered with me in the room, their teachers had connected some dots.

When we got home, I showed them the photo above, just recently taken at the marsh. Pretty hard to deny the link. Makes you want to go invest in some better binoculars, doesn't it?

Tails & Scales

What I believe to be a Butler's gartersnake

Yet another sign of spring . . . At about 15" long and perfectly camouflaged to blend with the newly exposed ground in our "Tower Woods," this little relative of Ohio's most common snake (the Eastern gartersnake) was taking advantage of plenty of sunshine and temperatures in the low 80s, earlier this week.

Now that the dead canopy is totally removed (see April 10th post), we were literally on our hands and knees trying to identify the first starts of new, green growth when this bugger slithered into view. Roy had to point him out, and he was literally right under my nose! It's the first snake I've seen at (very) close range this spring, but there is no doubt that these legless reptiles have been waking up more and more over the last several weeks.

Watersnakes are becoming a common sight, particularly on sun-heated rocks along shorelines or in low-hanging limbs over or near water. It's not unusual this time of year to see literally dozens of the Common watersnake sharing a sun-bleached willow. They are often Medusa-like in their propensity to get intertwined. I need to do some homework, but I speculate that this behavior is tied not only to elevating body temperature, but also to breeding.

Midland painted turtle

Painted turtles are also getting to be a common sight on downed logs and on small, remnant wooden duck hunting paraphernalia from years gone by. Unfortunately, I'm also seeing fair numbers on roadways that surround the marsh. I actually plucked the young adult to the right from the center line of SR 269 while driving in our UTV. I'm always struck with their beauty -- particularly at close range -- and by the fact that because they are likely the most common turtle in the state, they are so often under-appreciated. While we certainly will be on the lookout for some of their less common relatives, a paint's colors and patterns really are striking.

Mystery serpent

Keeping on the topic of reptiles, I really liked the almost abstract still-life that Roy captured on a wave-weathered piece of driftwood. Can you identify him (or her) without seeing a head or a tail? I'll let this image serve as a teaser to another snake post I plan to include very soon. For now, I'll just say we have gotten a positive ID on a species we've been keeping a keen eye out for . . .

The Warblers Are Coming! (and so are some other cool birds)

Yellow-rumped or Myrtle Warbler in dogwoods -- April 21, 2017

As anticipated, lots has changed since I left northwest Ohio just over a week ago. Native trees and shrubs are starting to leaf out in earnest and especially for those who fertilize, the lawn mowers have been asked to come out of hibernation, too. I've yet to make my first cut, but there is no question that spring has sprung in northern Ohio!

From what I hear, last week's weather along the Lake was a classic seesaw: one day of bright sunshine reminded untested skin that it's getting to be sunscreen season, and then the next day it was time to scramble for a winter hat. But there has been enough sustained wind from the south to start ushering in the often colorful and always inspiring neotropical migrants. Warblers are the stars of the show, but dozens and dozens of bird species make their way from southern reaches often amazingly far afield (think Central and even South America). Individuals may only rest over for hours or days as they push on into Canada, but the bi-annual (spring and fall) phenomenon is just getting going and collectively should last for weeks.

I would anticipate I'll be writing plenty more on guests such as the Yellow-rumped Warbler in the lead-up to and even following The Biggest Week in American Birding. For those unfamiliar, this is no publicity stunt. This is another example of a Northwest Ohio treasure that often goes unnoticed or at the very least wildly underappreciated locally while it has become must-see entertainment for a regional, national, and even international audience. (The Oak Openings region and Lake Erie in general could be put into a similar category.)

At any rate for now, here are a few other cool images Roy collected while I was away. I'll be playing catch up with some others over the coming days.

Tree Swallow (with an itch)

Great Egret (apparently in the midst of a staring contest)

Wood Ducks in millet (hen in front, drake in rear)

Dunlin (non-breeding)

Dike Maintenance: Grading for a Much Smoother Ride

A make-shift dike grading apparatus

More consistent temperatures in the 60s and 70s (and fewer and fewer nights in the 30s and 40s) have prompted us to think dike maintenance and grass seeding. Just like in your back yard, spring and fall are the easiest time to establish and grow new grass. So we took this window of relative dry and forecast for continued spring-like weather to have several thousand feet of dike disked.

A neighboring farmer did the heavy lifting, but Roy and Julie did the finish grading with the MULE and some heavy-duty steel bar grating. The impetus for all of this work comes from the fact that it has been years (maybe decades?) since the tops of many of our dikes have been mechanically leveled. This made for some slow-going, bumpy driving tours. With the soil now moist and workable, the 3-4 passes with the disk could knock down the high spots and fill in the low spots. Roy then passed over the entire area another 3-4 times with the grating to break up any remaining clods and prep the soil for seed.

I'll be happy when I can report a much smoother ride!

We sometimes opt to use a towable spreader, but this effort was localized enough that a hand-crank was even more precise. Once the seed is down, we run over the entire area one or two more times with the grating to help ensure good seed to soil contact (you want contact without burying the seed). Then we cross our fingers for some light to moderate rain followed by lots of sun. If we can keep from being too cold or too wet, we should have seed popping within 10-14 days and a drivable dike by sometime in June.

Same Brilliance 1,000 Miles Apart: The Black-crowned Night Heron

The piercing gaze of the black-crowned night heron

I had to smile when I checked my messages from Roy this evening. We've gotten into a new routine since the purchase of the new camera. If I can't be in the marsh in person (or sometimes even if I can be), I can look forward to a quick photo recap of the day's events in my inbox.

Today's first subject, pictured above, was a bird that I saw in person with my wife and kids this morning. The funny thing about it is we're about 1,000 miles south of Erie County, Ohio in northern Florida. While we were wowed by alligators and crocs at the St. Augustine Alligator Farm and Zoological Park (a touristy but pretty neat place, I must admit), my eyes were often distracted by the black-crowned night herons, little blue herons, roseate spoonbills, and cattle egrets nesting in an extremely busy, on-site rookery.

My son and I got an especially close look at a BCNH very similar to the one pictured above. Anderson commented on the brilliance of the bird's red eye. I pointed out that while much of Florida and the Gulf Coast is part of their home range, they are pretty common inhabitants at the marsh as well. No sooner do I say that then he points out a range map literally right below our noses. The southern range is highlighted, as is the western shoreline of Lake Erie. Pretty cool.

I look forward to showing him these photos tomorrow morning when he wakes up.

Add just a few leaves and a few more degrees and this could very well have been the scene we took in this morning in Florida. But these herons were simultaneously enjoying the cool breezes off of Lake Erie.

Restoration Inspiration from a Big, White Bird

Up close and personal with Ohio's largest bird, the Trumpeter Swan

This is a story for those moments in time when the question is posed (internally or by others), "Why does any of this matter?" What is the point of habitat protection and improvement when species are going extinct at alarming rates?

The photo above is the big reveal from the mystery image posted on April 8th. We did ultimately get the proper identification, but not surprisingly, it took some time. If shown an image of a large, white bird (in its entirety) on the water, most could recognize it to be a swan. But the trumpeter is to be appreciated for its uniqueness -- not only in its size and raw beauty but in how it came to be swimming in our marsh.

Legendary outdoor writer (and friend) Steve Pollick tells the tale in a succinctly written article from 2005. But in a nutshell, this species was completely wiped from the map in Ohio and beyond (extirpated) by 1900 and driven to the brink of extinction. Except for the rogue migrant, this magnificent bird was not seen again in the Midwest until it was reintroduced in the 1990s. Ohio was one of the first states to try its luck at relocating eggs from far north, rearing the young (called cygnets), and then eventually releasing juvenile birds into the wild. Lake Erie's southwestern shoreline was a logical nursery for the majority of these pioneers, but as Steve explains, in under a decade, there where over 100 individuals and 17 nesting pairs thriving within our boarders.

As of 2016 (twenty years into the restoration effort), the ODNR reports that we were up to 74 nesting pairs statewide -- again, most of which were oriented along the Lake. We were thrilled when a pair pulled up a muskrat hutch and made Standing Rush home. The four cygnets we watched through their first season last summer were one of just three nests in all of Erie County and represented ~2% of the State's entire population of new arrivals -- 178 total in 2016!

In just two short years on this property I'm already accumulating a growing list of memories associated with these birds. Each adult can grow to four feet tall and 25-30 pounds with a wingspan of about seven feet. They truly are the bomber planes of our avian skies. For about a week back in early February, our 40 acres of millet hosted as many as 40 trumpeters. It was a lesson that I keep reliving on the marsh: don't assume what you see today will be there tomorrow. But what I love most about these birds is how curious, almost precocious, they tend to be. I'm continually struck that it seems as if they are as interested in watching us as we are of watching them. And that's saying something.

[ASIDE: I'll have to explain our other two species of swans, Mute and Tundra, in a subsequent post -- one an invasive, the other just a brief visitor from way north.]

Birds Abound

Ring-necked Duck (background) and Lesser Scaup, or "bluebill" (foreground)

I'm finding it's easy to get spoiled working in my "field office." None of the critters I witnessed over the last couple days in the marsh are particularly rare. Thankfully in fact, they are all actually pretty common in and around Lake Erie marsh country depending on the season. That said these aren't ducks you witness waddling across the putting green or seagulls you see bickering over a French fry in a strip mall parking lot. For that reason alone, they are worth a share.

The two duck species above are both considered "divers," meaning they are heavily reliant on diving below the surface of the water to pursue and gather food -- most often fish. As opposed to "dabbling" ducks which tip and bob in shallow water (think mallards), the Ring-necked Duck and the Lesser Scaup are among those most comfortable in deeper, open water. Spring is our best opportunity for visits from these and similar species, as they migrate back into Canada (and beyond) to breed. These and another commonly confused Greater Scaup are great examples of the subtlety of nature. Ironically, it's the ringed bill of the "Ring-neck" that sets it most apart from the other two "bluebills." We'll get more into these specific species and divers in general as the waterfowl season approaches.

Greater Yellowlegs

If we have freshly exposed mud with intermittent puddles of skim water (e.g. "mudflats") in the marsh in spring or fall -- for example due to a managed draw down of water through pumping or a prolonged drought -- we are going to have Greater Yellowlegs. As with its shorter-billed relative of a shorter stature (the Lesser Yellowlegs), this energetic shorebird (another informal grouping like diving ducks) is a pleasure to watch.

Yellowlegs are known both for seeking food in the mud at an almost frantic pace, and their shrill call is equally recognizable. They typically probe the shallows using their long bill to catch insects and crustaceans of many makes and models, but it appears the one on the right may have stumbled into a finned friend. Call him an opportunist, I guess.

One of my recent memories of this bird ties back to the dike rehab project we did last summer. Shorebirds were making their way back to us, and I got a major kick out of watching my then 10-year-old daughter patiently chase a Yellowlegs down the newly graded dike. At over 5' tall, my daughter may have found a kindred spirit.

These Bonaparte's Gulls are another species that can congregate in huge numbers at certain times of the year on and around Lake Erie. It's not unheard of to see 100,000+ of these elegant fliers all at once in November. (Think in terms of a packed "Big House" in Ann Arbor or "Horseshoe" in Columbus . . . that's a lot of gulls!)

Spring groupings are typically considerably smaller. I peeked in on 10-15 still in their winter plumage. I loved that they were happy to loaf on old, decaying loosestrife root balls. Their dark ear spot is replaced by an all-black head by summer, so it's easy to mistake the two color phases as separate species. Either way, they are striking.

Rising Temperatures & Moving Water Cue Fish Movement

Warm, moving water from the West Marsh discharging into the relatively cooler Sandusky Bay prompts a predictable but still strangely mesmerizing congregation of fish in our concrete spillway. Most fish near the surface are common carp, but there are also a few solitary gizzard shad, yellow bullheads, bowfin, and goldfish that pass by.

As the video above (taken yesterday) demonstrates, most of the species readily visible are the less “desirable” varieties often referred to as “rough fish.” This designation lumps a good number of species into the same category because they are (a) not commonly considered ideal as table fare, (b) not associated with the more recognizable “sport fish” that traditionally are pursued with hook and line, (c) not the most “attractive” (my wife often reminds me that’s definitely an ‘eye of the beholder’ situation), (d) they are considered “bottom feeders,” or (e) all of the above.

All of these species have value. As I briefly touched on back on April 4th, even carp can have beneficial uses -- not only in the commercial fishing trade but even ecologically -- in helping to curb the proliferation of certain undesirable plants by adding turbidity to the water. 

But our interests, now and in the long-run are to determine how to best promote fish species diversity. Improving connectivity to the open bay is step one. We are actually pursuing a funding tool right now that would replace our aging (and failing) spillway with a completely open-topped culvert. While fish currently have to swim through a pipe to enter or exit the marsh, this new design mimic natural conditions. And it would also allow us to "bar the door" when carp migrations are at their peak. More on this story as it develops.

P.S. To provide some perspective, most of the carp on the clip above are in the 5-15 lb. range. The biggest of the big may have exceeded the 20-lb mark. 

Some of the species we were able to see or hand net but not capture on camera yesterday include: largemouth bass, bluegill, black crappie, golden shiner, and sheephead. I also got a glimpse of what looked like a shorthead redhorse, which would be pretty cool. This particular species is intolerant of pollution and turbid (murky) water and is an indicator of good water quality. We hope to conduct more comprehensive sampling over the coming weeks to get a better handle on what fish are currently utilizing the marsh -- at least by gathering a snapshot in time. 

Spring Cleaning -- A Juvenile Bald Eagle in the Cottonwoods

A juvenile baldy caught in the act of some spring cleaning.

In the spirit of "Who gets tired of seeing bald eagles?" Roy got a kick out of the fact that this young raptor let him get close enough that he could witness a pretty prolonged preening and capture it from the seat of his truck on one of the dikes on the west side of the property.

Preening is essentially a regular grooming ritual that birds must adhere to in order to keep features clean, aligned, and operating at full efficiency. It's somewhat akin to us brushing our teeth. But instead of toothpaste, birds rely on a waxy oil that is secreted from a "preen gland" at the base of the tail. Certain species may preen just once or twice per day, but particularly this time of year (when birds are trying to look their best), it is not uncommon to see others tidying up more-or-less constantly.

The marsh is alive with juvenile eagles at present. These young birds may be as young as a year (last year's fledglings) or as many as four or even five years old. They are already large (4-6' on the wing), but they are distinct in that they are a mottled brown and white from head to tail -- no distinct white heads yet! Based on my research, most eagles in our area reach maturity at about age five. And if they can avoid all the perils that they are confronted with on a daily basis (high power lines, vehicles, and poisons -- just to name a few), an eagle can live to be 20 or even 25 years old in the wild (and twice that age in captivity).

Here are a couple fun facts to consider: a bald eagle's skeleton only makes up about 5% of its total body weight -- feathers make up far more -- and its stomach is roughly the size of a walnut! (They can thank their crop for the extra carrying capacity.)

Step 1 of a Woodland Restoration, continued . . .

Dead ash trees dominate what is left of the canopy of our 5.7-acre "Tower Woods" -- June 2015.

The Tower Woods following bush honey suckle and dead ash removal, prepped for reforestation -- April 2017.

It is already painfully obvious that it will be challenging to stay disciplined about posting regularly (much less daily) as the days get longer and the temperatures rise. The last few days brought 60s and 70s -- with today flirting with 80 degrees for the first time this year . . . a far cry from the upper 30s and snow of late last week. Good weather will tempt me away from the keyboard, but I'll do my best to keep journaling . . . 

Today was a noteworthy day in that we were visited by the Ohio DNR, Division of Forestry. The state forester came this morning to inspect the "site prep" portion of our the reforestation contract that we have entered into with the USDA. (More detail: 3/21/17) As you can see from the side-by-side from the sky, the "before" and "after" comparison is visually pretty striking.

The bottom photo depicts what remains of the woodlot after nearly two weeks of careful site preparation. An excavator with a surprisingly dexterous grabber attachment worked in conjunction with a dozer and track skidloader to minimize impacts on the surface soil while uprooting and removing invasive bush honeysuckle, dead ash trees (by far the dominant canopy tree), and any other less desirable woody species. What remains are just 50-60 solitary trees, mostly locusts and hackberries (with a few cottonwoods, oak, maples, and elms mixed in for good measure).

The state forester said he really could not have asked for a better job, so we got the green light to move to Phase II -- which will essentially be babysitting the understory to selectively remove any remnants of the invasive honeysuckle that try to rebound from this initial effort. Roy will serve as our regular watchdog. We have been given various suggestions for next steps based on how the weather plays out this spring/summer and how the site responds. It should be very interesting.

If all goes as planned, we will be ordering 1,100 trees from a Michigan grower in August or September. Each seedling will be a native hardwood (oak, black walnut, cherry, and sycamore), and each will be 2-4' tall when it is planted next spring (likely April 2018). 

While the local rumor mill in and around Bay View has many people convinced that we're prepping the site for houses our condos, those who hear we are planting more trees are all smiles. So are we.

Mystery in the Marsh: Can You ID?

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.

Family, Photography & Videography

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.
________________

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.

The Joy of Matted Down Millet

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?

An Invitation to "Get Into the Weeds" and Make Suggestions

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: These (Not-So) Little Piggies Can Still Go to Market

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.