Dispelling the Winter Blues

The weather widget on my computer tells me that it's 60^oF outside as I type late this morning, but I've got a fire going in the woodstove in the study. It's just a dreary, rainy, January day, and a fire's cozy warmth keeps the soggy damp and its accompanying winter blues at bay. January is an awful month here in southeast Louisiana--rain, rain, rain. "With an annual statewide-average rainfall of approximately 60 inches per year," writes John M. "Jay" Grimes in "Precipitation Patterns Over the Bayou State," only Hawaii receives more rain on an average statewide basis." January and June vie for the title of rainiest month of the year. Our yard, inhabited by subterranean warm-blooded creatures that like to burrow, soaks up this rain like a sponge, all those tiny tunnels filling with water and creating a surface that makes one suspicious of its ability to hold one's weight. I tried pulling winter weeds on Saturday, and the first layer of soil just peeled back like a Gaia facial peel, the thin layer of topsoil rising intact with the webby roots of the weeds.

Another antidote to the winter blues is the occasional sunny day, such as the one we experienced yesterday, clear, cool, and balmy by noon, when Tom the federal worker and I decided to pack a simple lunch and go on a hike. Every time I think of retiring to northern Minnesota, where we lived for two years, I remember that such a day is never available in January in the Land of 10,000 Lakes--unless global warming gets a lot worse in my lifetime (which I understand might be possible).

We drove to Boy Scout Road in Lacombe, LA, and parked in the gravel lot near the boardwalk that winds through this portion of the Big Branch Marsh National Wildlife Refuge. Several vehicles were already parked there, and a large family of several adults and young children disembarked a double-cab pickup as we drove up. That group decided to take the boardwalk while Tom and I opted for the gravel surface of Boy Scout Road which follows the edge of the grassy pine savanna that the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service maintains with prescribed burns.

Big Branch Marsh National Wildlife Refuge, pine savanna at Boy Scout Road, Lacombe, LA (12 Jan. 2014)

We took our time, pulling our binoculars out of the backpack to get close-up views of yellow-rumped warblers and red-bellied woodpeckers. Robins also flocked the woods, startling into flight ahead of us, and on our walk back mid-afternoon, we were serenaded by red-winged blackbirds, heard flickers and doves calling, and  got a glimpse of a ruby-crowned kinglet. We took one of the side roads into the timber until the water got too deep for us to venture much further without getting our feet wet and returned to the main road.

wet timber road on Big Branch Marsh National Wildlife Refuge

the high, dry, and recently graded Boy Scout Road

The road continues to a lookout point over the marsh and Lake Pontchartrain toward New Orleans and then winds through pines that eventually give way to hardwoods as the road gets closer to Bayou Lacombe. When we got to the Bayou, I lay flat on the ground, soaking up the afternoon sun while Tom took some photos of the old broken bricks that lay scattered on the banks.

Tom took this photo of the view of New Orleans from the observation deck on Boy Scout Road

On our walk, Tom had pointed out "borrows" filled with water, where road crews had dug up soil to build the road. And he remembered an old professor at Louisiana State University telling a class that he couldn't understand why these holes were called "borrows," as the soil was never returned to its point of origin. When I had stopped to take a photo of a small pond, Tom told me that the depression was not natural, that it was what remained of a clay pit. Someone had told him that local clay had been dug out there to make bricks which were then carted off on boats to build the French Quarter. In a later brief search on the Internet, I couldn't find any support for the claim that the bricks had been used to build the French Quarter, but I did find lots of references to brick-making from clay in the area. And the bricks on the banks of Bayou Lacombe attested to that, as well. I also found a downed tree whose roots were exposed and wrapped around old pieces of brick.

Tom took this photo of bricks on the banks of Bayou Lacombe at the end of Boy Scout Road.

We lingered there at the banks of Bayou Lacombe, lazily waving at a boat full of people that passed on its way up the bayou from Lake Pontchartrain. And now as I remember the clear sky and warm sun, today's gloom seems a little lighter. The fire has been reduced to a few glowing embers in the woodstove, and the temperature has climbed one degree to 61^oF. I think I'll let the fire die and save the wood for a colder, gloomier January day.

A Morning Paddle and a Lesson in Marsh Preservation

cooling off in the shade in Big Branch Marsh

Yesterday morning my husband, daughter, and I headed out to Big Branch Marsh National Wildlife Refuge, where we unloaded our kayaks at an unmotorized boat ramp and paddled down a canal and out into the marsh. At 8 o'clock in the morning, temperatures were already rising. This was our first time out on the canal that leads from the ramp to Lake Pontchartrain; we usually paddle Bayou Cane, where we always look forward to sighting the osprey nesting in a tall dead tree at the edge of the bayou. But yesterday in this area of Big Branch Marsh we didn't see a lot of wildlife: a couple of small alligators cooling off in the water, lots of red-winged blackbirds, several Great Egrets fishing in the shallow waters, an eastern kingbird, and a couple of wood ducks flying up, startled, from the great swathes of bullrushes and cane, and, of course, the ubiquitous dragonflies that pose in silhouette on tall grasses, sedges, and half-submerged limbs of dead trees.

canal in Big Branch Marsh

Our plan was to paddle around in the marsh for two to three hours, and that's what we did, stopping for second breakfast on a berm in the marsh. There we saw piles of raccoon waste full of tiny seashells, clues to that animal's breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  We were satisfied with bananas, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and water.

Along the way, we had noted the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service's attempts to restore the marsh. Anyone who knows anything about this area knows how important wetlands are to the livelihood of local people and of local and migrating plants and animals. The American alligator was on the endangered species list when I was growing up on the Texas Gulf Coast and was finally removed from that list in 1987. Bald eagles, too, find refuge in the swamps of Louisiana, along with other animals coming back from the brink of extinction, such as the brown pelican. The vast marshes of Louisiana also protect the coast from the destruction of hurricanes. Over the years, the draining of swampland to provide living space for the inhabitants of New Orleans and other towns nearby, the building of levees along the Mississippi River, the unrestrained logging of cypress trees in the 1930s, the dredging for navigation canals and pipelines through the swamps by the oil and gas industries, and the importing of the South American nutria in the 1940s have devastated this natural protection (more here).  The small area of the vast network of swamp that we paddled around in for three hours yesterday is "disappearing at the rate of more than 25 square miles a year."

The U.S. Geological Survey provides these statistics:

Coastal Louisiana has lost a wetland area the size of Delaware, equaling 1,883 square miles, over the past 78 years, according to a new U.S. Geological Survey National Wetlands Research Center study. 

Twenty-five percent of the wetland area present in 1932 was lost by 2010. If this trend were to continue, Louisiana would lose a wetland area larger than the size of the island of Manhattan every year. [See "How Are Louisiana Wetlands Changing?," USGS news release, 2 June 2011]

Add the marsh loss caused by the poor decisions of people and the marsh loss caused by hurricanes and other storms--you can see why we have a coastline in crisis:

When the hurricanes of 2005 and 2008 are factored in, the trend increased the amount of land lost to 16.57 square miles per year from 1985 to 2010. If this loss were to occur at a constant rate, it would equate to losing more than a football field every hour. The combined loss from the storms of 2005 and 2008 equal a land area the size of Chicago. [See "How Are Louisiana Wetlands Changing?," on the USGS website]

As we stood on that berm in Big Branch Marsh, my husband waved his hand toward the open water behind us. "Hurricane Katrina tore big swatches of marsh out of this area, leaving behind open water like that," he said. Then he pointed to the south side of the berm where we were standing. "That area, now covered with sedges, bull rushes, and other marsh plants, was once open water. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service built this berm, pumped in sediment behind it, and then planted this area; see how the marsh has been reclaimed here."

open water in Big Branch Marsh

berm in Big Branch Marsh

reclaimed marsh in Big Branch Marsh

Earlier in our paddle we had also come across another marsh reclamation project, brush fences of Christmas trees built to direct the flow of water in the marsh, allowing sediment to build and plants to root.  A wooden fence, sort of like a cattle chute, is built in shallow waters, and then recycled Christmas trees are placed within the structure.  We wondered if these structures worked, and then, later in our paddle, we saw where sediment had evidently deposited along one side of a fence, for marsh plants had established a solid foothold there, obscuring part of the fence.

brush fence in Big Branch Marsh

close-up of recycled Christmas trees in brush fence

plants growing along brush fence in Big Branch Marsh

When I see such reclamation projects, evidence of the hard work of government employees, volunteers, and employees of participating non-profit organizations, I am reminded of what government can do. Every time some member of Congress insists on mandatory lay-offs of government employees and great spending cuts in the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and other such worthwhile government services, I think of the marshlands of Louisiana and other areas of the country that would suffer without the work and protection of such services.

Private enterprise cannot take up the slack here, for private enterprise focuses first on profit, and the worth of a wetland cannot be measured by corporate profit. Without these wetlands, 30% or more of the nation's seafood would disappear from restaurant menus and from seafood markets; oil platforms and gas pipelines protected by swamp would soon be in open sea, vulnerable to storms; coastal people would be homeless and jobless; endangered species would become extinct; American citizens looking for hunting and fishing recreation would have many fewer--and ever more dwindling--options.

This is why government services such as the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service need our support. We all profit.

 

note:

See discussion of U.S. budget proposals at the American Trails website: Federal Budget Proposals: funding issues for trails".  Quote: "U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service would receive a 21% cut: $1.2 billion budget is $315 million below last year’s level." Republicans pushing these cuts refuse to let the Bush tax cuts expire as planned and refuse to compromise on taxes and other revenue options.

another quote:

Dan Ashe, director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, tells it like it is concerning the fierce budget cuts some in Congress are aiming at fish and wildlife conservation programs: "This is not deficit reduction. These are policy and political objectives dressed up as deficit reduction by those who seek to get those pesky fish and wildlife agencies -- federal and state -- out of the way of development. Never mind that America's outdoor recreation economy generates 8.4 million, nonexportable U.S. jobs, most in rural areas, generating over $100 billion annually in federal, state and local taxes." Ashe also pointed out: "Now the legacy of a century of conservation -- indeed the future of the North American model of wildlife conservation -- is threatened by the prospect of draconian cuts to conservation programs. These programs, though only a sliver of a percentage of the federal budget and largely inconsequential for deficit reduction, have been disproportionately singled out by some in Congress and their supporters." from NOLA online, 23 October 2011

 other sources:
The Izaak Walton League of America, "Conservation Funding Cuts"

What the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service does, here: AllGov: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

editorial by Shawn Perich, on Northern Wilds website: "Points North: Don't Destroy Fish and Wildlife Conservation to Balance the Budget"

'The Rise and Disappearance of Southeast Louisiana," an interactive graphic for The Times-Picayune by Dan Swenson.