Algal Sludge in Southeast Florida

Over the past few weeks, a thick layer of putrid algae has been accumulating along canals and estuaries in Southeast Florida, centered near Stuart.  This unnatural scourge is threatening both the local economy and the welfare of regional wildlife.

The culprit is polluted water in Lake Okeechobee which, during periods of heavy rain, is released into the upper watersheds of adjacent rivers to relieve pressure an an aging dike; the St. Lucie and Caloosahatchee rivers receive the brunt of the runoff.  Once the nutrient-rich freshwater mixes with sea water at the coast, an algal bloom is triggered, covering the shallows with a toxic carpet of noxious and unhealthy sludge.  The only remedy is to cut off the flow of nitrogenous waste (primarily agricultural fertilizer) that fuels the bloom.

Repeated episodes have occurred over the years and politicians, at both the State and Federal levels, have stymied efforts to provide a solution (i.e. cleaning up Lake Okeechobee and expanding its basin to eliminate seasonal overflow).  While the tragic effects of pollution are clearly evident in this case, much of human-induced pollution across the globe goes unnoticed for extended periods of time, destroying ecosystems and poisoning wildlife long before the effects become evident.  The warnings of conservationists are often ridiculed by polluting industries (and the politicians whom they fund) until species are lost, fisheries are decimated and our natural environment is forever changed.

Eulachon

Eulachon are small marine fish (8-9 inches in length) that feed on plankton in the eastern Pacific, from Alaska to northern California.  In late winter, they move into estuaries and coastal rivers to spawn; most adults die after this process.  Fertilized eggs, which sink to the gravel beds, hatch in a month and the fry head to sea; there they will live in offshore waters for 3-5 years before returning to spawn.

Heavily laden with fat, the spawning eulachon are known as candlefish (since dried specimens can be lit like candles) and were called "salvation fish" by Native Americans of the Pacific Northwest since their calorie-rich bodies provided vital nutrition during the leans months of late winter and early spring.  Of course, Steller's sea lions, dolphins and sea birds also welcome their spawning runs.

Unfortunately, eulachon have all but disappeared from the coastal rivers of northern California, Oregon and Washington and their numbers have decreased significantly farther north.  Global warming, overfishing, water pollution and altered river sediments (due to hydroelectric dams) are all thought to be playing a role in the population decline of this smelt.

A Kite, Whales and a Glass Beach

Early this morning, my wife and I visited the Humboldt Bay NWR, just south of Eureka, California.  Once a vast saltwater marsh, the basin was later drained for agriculture and has since been restored for the benefit of resident and migrant water birds; riparian woodlands, cattail marshes, sloughs, lakes and tidal flats characterize the preserve.  During our visit, we were fortunate to observe a white-tailed kite (formerly known as a black-shouldered kite), a beautiful and common resident of the refuge and a new "lifer" for me; we also encountered black phoebes, California quail and a large flock of marbled godwits.

After our visit to the refuge, we headed south on Route 101, climbing along the scenic valley of the Eel River and its South Fork.  We then switched to Route 1, enduring countless hairpin turns as we crossed the Coastal Range.  Emerging along the Pacific Coast, our patience was rewarded with spectacular seascapes all the way to Fort Bragg.  Nearing that city, we turned into MacKerricher State Park, where we walked out to Seal Point and watched harbor seals as they lounged on the sea stacks or cruised the clear waters beneath the overlook.  While observing the seals, my wife noticed "whale spouts" far out to sea; close inspection with my binoculars revealed four humpback whales, identified by the contour of their backs and by their habit of raising their massive flukes as they dove to feed.  Needless to say, the sighting of these magnificent cetaceans was one of the highlights of our road trip to date.

But we could not end our day without visiting the "Glass Beach," in Fort Bragg.  Once used as a city dump site, the beach was reclaimed by the sea which sorted and recycled the debris, leaving smooth pebbles of glass amidst the shells and sand.  Once this beach of glass gained nationwide fame, visitors flocked to the site, walking off with samples of nature's handiwork.  As too often characterizes man's relationship with nature, we first abuse her ecosystems and then take advantage of her restorative powers; alas, the glass of Glass Beach is rapidly disappearing.