Film is the most significant art form of the last century. I don’t think a lot of people would argue that point. There might be a couple people who might say that literature is still tops. But how many people have seen “The Lord of the Rings” movies versus how many have read the books? (many times each for me).

It stands to reason that we anglers have films that stand out to us as great expressions of our favorite activity. Now, we’re not talking about documentaries or short films, although there are many worth your time, but rather feature films that received major studio releases.

There are a couple that are warmly remembered, a couple that have won awards, and there are even some that stand out as innovative pieces of art in their own right — films that actually changed film itself. Fishing and angling have had that effect on us.

“Grumpy Old Men” is a 1993 film that is remembered fondly for many reasons. Burgess Meredith straight up stealing the whole movie with perfect comedic timing (the sequel was his last film), Ann Margret looking transcendent, 30 years after her starring role in “Bye Bye Birdie”, the great chemistry between the stars Walter Matthau and Tony Curtis that hadn’t changed since “The Odd Couple” in 1968.

But in the interplay between legends, we see what fishing can mean to us. The main characters fight over lucky ice fishing poles, fishing spots, and try to take each other out with frozen walleyes. This resonates because not only is it funny, it’s also true. These are the real reasons people bicker about fishing, both on the water and off. Hopefully, you won’t actually try to kill somebody with a frozen fish, but the joke makes the point. The little love story with Ann Margret is almost an afterthought.

“The Perfect Storm” is not precisely a fishing movie, but it’s close. On the surface, the 2000 film is about a storm that swept the East Coast — one in which I was stuck in a third-floor apartment while my neighbors jumped off the balcony into snow piles. But beyond that it’s a “Moby Dick”-style tale of compulsion and ego that takes the lives of our handsome protagonists, including Mark Wahlberg, George Clooney, and William Fichtner. What makes it worse was that the guys could have turned back in time but instead pushed on to the Flemish Cap to fish untouched waters.

That is something that most anglers can associate with.

Ernest Hemingway wrote “The Old Man and The Sea” during winter 1953 as a tribute to those who make their living from the sea. He chose to weave in religious references that solidify the connection between his main character, Santiago, to a saintly figure. While Hemingway himself had problems with the 1958 film starring Spencer Tracy – issues mainly stemming from Hemingway being unable to suffuse his ego and having arguments with Tracy himself, he was pleased with the film overall.

Tracy got an Oscar nomination for best actor and Dimitri Tiomkin won for best original score. The first time I saw this as a kid, I was amazed by the shots of Santiago fighting the marlin, then I felt his pain as the sharks tore it apart, thus showing the futility of struggling against … whatever … anything. The ending is unclear. I always assumed the Old Man passed in his sleep after returning home, but maybe not.

He loves the sea and he loves the fish, feelings that many of us anglers can relate to. He loves it so much that even though he knows he needs to kill it; it breaks his heart to do so and his spirit when the sharks come. Tracy is a literal master of the craft of acting and he was the perfect choice. In my mind, this film holds up even after so long.

A film that literally changed the way movies were produced and marketed, “Jaws” was the first summer blockbuster. When it came out June 20, 1975, it was the first movie released to hundreds of screens nationwide simultaneously, something we take for granted now. Steven Spielberg became known as the genius we know today. Young actors such as Richard Dreyfus and Roy Scheider would build huge careers. Robert Shaw figuratively put a crown on his head as the finest actor of his generation (we can fight about it if you want).

Oscars were awarded for best sound, best editing, and of course, best score to the legendary John Williams. I bet you are playing the “Jaws” theme in your head right now.

The big gamefishing scenes are the best ever put on film. The amazing monologue from Quint about the USS Indianapolis gives me chills every time, and I watch every year to celebrate Fourth of July (I’m serious). When Quint first sets the hook and Hooper argues with him about what he thinks they really have on, I feel the tension. Of course, when the line breaks, well, who here has not experienced that disappointment?

The idea that somewhere “out there” is a fish bigger than anything else and we can conquer it, this is what makes us dream.

In my mind, “A River Runs Through It,” both the 1976 book and the 1992 adaptation, creates the perfect bridge between film and literature as artforms. The soundtrack by Mark Isham, for which he was nominated for an Oscar, is beautiful. It’s masterfully shot, winning a best cinematography Oscar for auteur Philippe Rousselot. The acting is outstanding with Brad Pitt in the role that would make him a household name, as well as Tom Skerrit, Craig Sheffer and many others in vastly underrated performances.

Robert Redford produced and directed the film, for which he was a Golden Globe nominee, and provided the voice of the story in his narration. In many cases, Redford spoke the precise words of author Norman Maclean.

While actually a story of how we truly try to help those we love, it’s also about how all will ultimately choose whichever path we end up on. Author Norman Maclean’s father was a Presbyterian minister. In the film, the Rev. Maclean gives a sermon during a church service, which the audience is led to believe happens as he’s near the end of his days:

“Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true, we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so, it is those we live with and should know best who elude us. But we can still love them. We can love completely without complete understanding.”

This is the finest film about fishing ever. If you can sit through Redford’s final narration without getting emotional, I’m not sure we can be friends.

So, you’ve probably figured out I love movies. Good ones. Great ones. Sometimes even bad ones. I love a tornado full of sharks. But the closer they get to the things I live for, the more I can feel them.

You might not have noticed, but the pine trees seem to have been in overdrive the last few years, throwing out pollen like they’re dishing out revenge for every one of their brethren that’s been cut down. Ever.

We all know pollen season is coming when the loblolly pines (Pinus taeda) turn vibrantly green, standing out like the Jolly Green Giant outlined against a cerulean sky. Then they get the yellow candles on the ends of their branches, which some people say look like crosses. Personally, I think they look more like a vampire-warding motion.

“Back! Back,” I say! “Get thee gone, thou foul spawn of Satan!”

One day, you’ll be standing at your kitchen window, washing dishes and minding your own business, enjoying seeing things beginning to green up. Maybe a few early flowers have popped here and there, the cheery yellow of daffodils, or the pinks and purples and blues of hyacinths. A splash of purple where some grape hyacinths are poking their stack of miniature-cannonball-looking, pyramidal heads out. A bit of fragrant jasmine draped over the myrkle bushes.

Then comes the squint and head tilt. “Wow. It’s really hazy out today!” Haze isn’t that unusual around here. Maybe it’s a fog bank moving in off the ocean. Again, not that unusual.

Another squint, and a head tilt in the other direction. A grimace.

“Maybe my windows are just really, really dirty.”

Again, nothing unusual. The way the never-ending wind blows around here, dust is almost as much a factor as during the Dust Bowl. Add in some heavy dews and a fuzz of mildew … and how does that stuff stick to something as slick and impenetrable as glass?

A gust of wind, another cloud of sulfur yellow, and you realize … it’s not haze. It’s not dust. It’s not even merely windows severely in need of some Windex and elbow grease. Nope, this year’s Pollen-palooza has descended.

Like marauding army ants — those in the jungle that swarm over everything in their path, leaving nothing but destruction and desolation in their wake — the pollen drifts and blows.

Your newly applied windshield tint wouldn’t pass inspection, not even if you slipped the mechanic a hefty tip and paid the fine. Activating the windshield-washer fluid and the windshield wipers results in yellow sludge drooling down the sides of your windshield like somebody christened your car with a bottle of Karo syrup.

Whatever color vehicle you have, it’s either become snot green or looks like the primer gray and rust have been awaiting paint so long they’ve faded to a noncolor.

Congratulations on your spring decorating skills! Your porch, sidewalk, and steps have been painted yellow. Walking across the yard means your shoes and the cuffs of your jeans match the trim on your porch rail. Dust puffs with every step, like videos of men walking on the moon. The airborne menace sticks to your face worse than pancake makeup on a rodeo clown.

Better hope you have stock in Kleenex and Benadryl, because you’re fixing to need copious quantities of both! Sniffles and sneezes and wheezes, oh my! And Visine. Can’t forget the red, itchy eyes.

Pollen is necessary. We all know that. Without it, things can’t get pollenated. Although do we really need any more pine trees? Flowers and vegetables get pollenated without all the over-the-top, absolutely outrageous hoopla associated with pines. We’ve all seen cute little bee’s knees all decked out in puffy orange pantaloons as they visit various flowers. The bees and the flowers both seem well satisfied, so what gives?

Why do pines go crazy? Other trees need to be pollenated as well! It’s discrimination, I tell ya! Pine pollen particles are larger than those of hardwoods and theoretically don’t affect allergy sufferers as much as hardwoods. More visibility means pines get blamed. Yeah, right! Sure!

Pine trees are pollenated by the wind, as if we humans weren’t already aware. All you have to do is watch the dense clouds of pollen blowing across fields and roads, obscuring the sky like a haboob of epic proportions. Because they are wind pollenated instead of being pollenated by insects, pines rely on quantity and chance. Less pollen means fewer pines, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, unless you’re a pine tree.

Short winters and warmer weather earlier in the spring make pollen season worse, as does less rainfall. So we’ve had a short winter and an early spring combined with very little rain this year, therefore … pollen-palooza.

But wait! Maybe we should be bottling this stuff instead of battling it.

Pine pollen is supposedly a super food, nutrient-dense and high in vitamins, minerals and antioxidants. Used in China for thousands of years for whole-body wellness and to boost energy levels (among many other things) pine pollen can be consumed in several different forms, powders, capsules and tinctures.

Pass. Hard pass.

If pine pollen was really that good for humans then everyone in eastern North Carolina should be able to cancel their health insurance straightaway. Maybe China has different pines than we do. Who knows?

Native to the Southeastern coastal plains and once the dominant species of pine, longleaf pines (Pinus palustris) made many North Carolina naval suppliers wealthy. Consisting of exports like whole tree trunks for masts and various other much-needed products for wooden ships such as pitch, rosin, turpentine and lumber for shipbuilding, harvesting the slow-growing, fire-resistant trees was a booming operation. Because of this, it’s not unusual to find the remains of tar kilns, or tarkle beds, throughout eastern North Carolina.

The pine is also the state tree, and the Order of the Longleaf Pine is the highest awarded civilian honor. Some famous recipients include Maya Angelou, Billy Graham, Charlie Daniels, and Dale Earnhardt.

Meanwhile, for those of us affected by pollen-palooza , it seems there’s little we can do except grin and bear it. Wash our cars. Spray the porch and the steps off.

Rinse and repeat.

Cheer up! Pollen season can’t last forever.

A lovely spring weekend. The forecast looks perfect. Light south winds. Tides are perfect. Not too hot. Let’s go fishing.

Head out in the morning. Get to the spot. It’s perfect. Fish are there. They’re biting. Awesome. Fish all day and don’t even have to make up any stories, because this was a good one.

Get home that evening and you feel hot. Skin feels warm all over. Look in the mirror. How did you get so sunburned? It wasn’t hot out. It was a nice clear day, but the sun wasn’t blazing. What in the world?

The reality is that every day we spend outside all day in the open, as in fishing, we have the opportunity to get a sunburn. It doesn’t matter how strong the sun shines. Honestly, it can be cloudy. In fact, a low overcast day is sneaky because it won’t get hot at all.

Let’s talk about some common things we can do to prevent sun damage and still be able to have a great day on the water.

One of the things we need to know about is SPF. It stands for Sun Protection Factor and according to Dr. Dawn Davis of the Mayo Clinic, it is a way to determine how long we can stand out in the sun before getting redness on the skin.

Dr. Davis recommends an SPF of a minimum of 30, which means we can stay outside 30 times longer than we normally would without any coverage at all. The SPF is printed right on the box of the sun protection products we see and is ubiquitous.

Here is the problem. When we are fishing, we transfer smell to our baits and lures. I have personally witnessed fish actively rejecting live baits that were tainted with sunscreen lotion and seek out untouched baits. What are we to do? There are many options available.

As I said, the old-fashioned lotion that our mom used to lather us up is not a great option. Fish can smell it. First of all, I like the spray sunscreen. For years I’ve used the Neutrogena brand. It’s available anywhere, it’s not as expensive as some other brands, and it’s oxybenzene free (I don’t know what that is, but it sounds bad). I’ll spray it on my face and ears and avoid my hands. But that’s just the beginning.

You’ll want a variety of clothing options to keep you protected and comfortable on the hot days. When you’re out there all day and concentrating on fishing and little else, there are many helpful ways to keep your skin safe.

I always start with a long-brimmed baseball-style cap. Not only does it provide shade for your face, it also helps you see in the water. Nowadays, I’m seeing more anglers using bucket-style hats or even sombreros to keep the sun off the back of the neck too. I would say that’s a pretty good idea and I wish I had thought of it 30 years ago.

Next are quality polarized sunglasses. Squinting all day is tough for the eyes. Take care of your retinas and they will continue to work. Astigmatism is a real thing in your 50s.

A lightweight shirt with long sleeves is imperative. The “performance” tees made of the lightweight nylon material are the way to go here. They were first popularized by high performance sportswear manufacturers and now have been co-opted by the outdoor industry.

Above, I mentioned hats to protect your neck. Some folks are now making hoodies that are made from performance fabric for the same purpose. The neglected areas like the back of the neck and even the backs of the hands are where I see older anglers having spots removed. There are even lightweight “sun” gloves to protect the hands.

For the legs there are a couple things that you need to keep in mind. Most of the time, I usually wear shorts. The lower leg/calf area doesn’t seem to be an area of concern for most people. If you are very light-complected, you may want to wear lightweight nylon “fishing” pants. Another consideration might be if wade fishing in an area with small stinging creatures like micro jellyfish in the Bahamas (That was a surprise!) or greenhead flies right here at home. They’ll bite right through socks.

Surprisingly, an area of concern for me over the years was the tops of my feet. Flip-flops or other sandals left me with sunburned feet. Sunscreen down there leads to slippery situations. I opted for lightweight deck shoes. Avoid darker colored uppers because they will have a tendency to get unpleasantly hot on the sunniest days. Ask me how I know.

Now a little more spray-on sunscreen on the nose and ears, and we are good to roll out.

Next time you head out, you are covered. It’s a really sunny day. You’ve been out the whole time. At the end of your trip, because you covered up, you’re not burning. The fish bit your lures because they weren’t covered in sunscreen lotion. The tops of your feet feel good.

Now make sure you don’t walk through the parking lot with no shoes at the end of a summer day. Otherwise you have burned the bottom of your feet.

That’s a whole different story.

People like plants.

People love plants.

As long as there have been people and plants, plant lovers have been sharing seeds and snips and starts, probably a holdover from our Garden of Eden days when humans were the Head Gardeners in Charge.

People love beauty, and what could be more beautiful than sharing our love of plants with other people?

Sharing new species of plants is how figs got to the United States, via settlers bringing starts.

It’s how corn and squash and lima beans got to Europe from the New World.

People love to try new foods and new recipes, and you can’t cook a new favorite dish unless you have the proper ingredients.

With new ingredients comes a lot of reward as people expand their palates. It can also come with some risk, as people who have cooked with a certain vegetable for a long time know all the ins and outs.

For example, I said something to an older friend of mine one Fourth of July about eating corn on the cob and how much Americans love it and asked if he and his wife were going to enjoy any while it was fresh and available. His wife was from England. His reply? “Oh no, no, no. The Brit doesn’t eat corn. That’s what you feed to hogs.”

Upon questioning him, he had no idea why, only that it’s the way things were done across the pond.

So, my little over-curious squirrel brain went into action. Researching it, I discovered that when corn was first brought back to Europe, people loved it. Loved it so much in fact, they tried to use it the way we do potatoes. For everything.

What the Europeans didn’t know, and the natives of South America had figured out over a long period of growing and eating corn was that — it’s a bit more involved than I’m making it out to be — but corn, eaten solely by itself, causes horrendous multigenerational birth defects.

Eaten in conjunction with squash and lima beans … Voila! No problem! The other vegetables fill in the missing nutrients, which the Europeans had no idea about, and why would they have?

Plant diversity is awesome. When humans depend on a single source of nutrition — think potatoes and the Irish potato famine — it can be devastating when that plant fails.

Diversity is part of why seed saving is so important, and I went more in-depth on that subject in one of my past articles.

Before there were cameras, thankfully there were explorers and plant junkies who drew scarily accurate renditions of plants they found or saw — intricate renderings of bark, leaves, flowers, and seeds. Thanks also to them for nabbing starts, seeds and seedlings, taking them back to their own countries, and nurturing their finds.

Plant names can often give you an idea of their origins. For instance, japonica means that plant originated in Japan. Chinensis, China. Think camellia japonica, or lorapetalum chinense. Otherwise known as camellias and fringe flowers.

We all know and love azaleas, but did you know that, while most of us are familiar with the gorgeous azaleas featured at Orton and Airlie and Wilmington in general, as well as in our yards, they are not natives. Go figure. North Carolina does have around 15 native varieties.

Many of the plants we know and love have been imported and planted to the point we think they’re indigenous. Some of them are beloved, and some of them, despite people’s best intentions — think kudzu, Pueraria montana — have become insanely invasive.

Kudzu, a native of Asia, was introduced to the U.S. in 1876, via the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition. At its introduction to our country, it was initially praised for its fragrant flowers and ease of care. In the 1930s and ’40s, it was touted — subsidized even, by the government — for its uses in erosion control and as livestock feed. Farmers were encouraged to plant kudzu by the acre, and the Civilian Conservation Corps was enlisted to plant it. We all know how well that worked out.

An overabundance of the same type of plants in one place creates the perfect environment for insects and diseases that prey on said plants to thrive. Lantana is super popular here, not only because it’s beautiful and attracts butterflies by the score, but because it likes heat and tolerates drought. During the last few years, because of the excessive availability of their food source, lantana lace bugs (Teleonemia scrupulosa) have become a huge problem on this once carefree plant.

Same with diseases. The disease that’s currently wiping out most of Florida’s citrus trees? Citrus greening, huanglongbing — say that fast five times — is a bacterial infection. Spread by the Asian citrus psyllid, again, the overabundance of the insect’s food source only makes the problem worse.

So, what’s our take on mass plantings of the same nonnative plants? The results speak for themselves.

Not good.

Nonnatives that become invasive, i.e. Chinese privet, (Ligustrum sinense), which was imported as a hedgerow plant in the mid-1800s, while fast-growing and good for delineating fencelines and yard boundaries, yields berries that are attractive to birds, and thus easily spread.  Its rapid growth and dispersal rates make it one of the most invasive plants in the South. Often taking over and crowding out natives, privet is extremely hard to kill. Privet often forms dense thickets, impenetrable to wildlife.

Sharing plants can be a great, inexpensive way to expand our gardens, and plant people love to help other gardeners. Sharing is caring, right?

Am I advocating being selfish? Absolutely not! I am, however, urging a bit of caution. Do your research. We have so much information available to us, information that our ancestors didn’t have when they thought they were doing the right thing by introducing new plants. There are tons of gorgeous natives, and more and more nurseries specialize in native species.

Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but sometimes it truly is only skin deep.

Spring is getting ready to jump out at us, and with it some pretty great fishing.

Shakespeare said the season puts, “A spirit of youth in everything.”

The inimitable Robin Williams said, “Spring is nature’s way of saying Let’s Party!”

So, it is then that we should be celebrating by getting out there for some of the best fishing in the Eastern U.S. For our purposes, we are going to be talking about March, April and May. February is a bit too early, even though it will sometimes fool us. June really starts to feel like true summer around here, and actually there have been some years when spring was over by mid-May.

It can be fleeting, so we must move fast. Sometimes that means dropping everything and getting to where the action is right away.

The first harbinger of spring is the riverine run of shad in our coastal rivers. Actually, the use of the word “harbinger” in this case is a common cliché. My editor tells me to avoid clichés like the plague, so I’m not going to do it, even though that’s what it is.

There are numerous river systems that host runs of both hickory and American shad. Both are a lot of fun. They put up a spirited fight with tarpon-like jumps. Americans are much bigger and stronger, and they have been called “The First Fish” by people who know about these things. These shad supported communities and got their health up just as things were getting bleak at the end of winter.

Popular shad fisheries exist in Contentnea Creek in Vanceboro, the Tar River in Greenville and upstream, and the Roanoke River, which hosts the largest numbers. Get some shad darts, which are just small jigs, and find a place to get to the water starting in the second week of March.

Probably the most popular spot in the whole state is the boat launch area in Weldon. It’s right at the falls and thousands of fish end up there. Bonus if you have a johnboat. Careful of the water levels. Small boats and big water don’t mix well.

Check out the water level gauges on the Dominion Power website.

Something I have covered before is the speckled trout action in downstream coastal creeks that are attached to larger rivers, such as ones connected to the Neuse, New, and Cape Fear. Trout will start to get active in these areas throughout March. In fact, they will have been in many creeks throughout winter. You just have to be able to deal with the cold. We’ve talked about that before too. But in March we’ll see more consistent action in these bodies of water. As the weather improves, they’ll be there more often.

The biggest fish will move in and out from the main rivers. Be there on the right day and you could get a look at speckled trout bigger than you’ve ever seen.

Along areas closer to the ocean, things will start to pick up in April. The southwest breeze during this period is the key. This flow leads to warm water. When coastal waters start to get above 62 degrees, bluefish will show up near shore. Mostly, these will be smaller fish, but at times really massive fish will make an appearance.

Don’t ask when it will happen. It’s just one of those times when, if you’re there, you’ll be the one telling me about it. 

River fishing for shad will reach a peak early in April and then slack off. This will be in prelude to striped bass taking over. The first captures will take place well downstream of rocks at the falls line. Toward the late to middle of the month, they’ll begin to be caught up by popular areas. Again, the most consistent fishing will be at Weldon. Loads of stripers will be caught on live shad.

Good speck action will continue through April. This is primetime for slow-falling hard plugs such as Mirrolures. Trout will consistently be in these creeks in April. It can be quite good for both numbers and size.

Coastal waters will see an explosion of activity in May. As well as the aforementioned blues, as the water warms through the 60s, be ready for Atlantic bonito to rampage through. The magic number is 65 degrees. Be ready to up and go. It doesn’t last long. We will normally get about three to four weeks. Sometimes more (And other times less, of course).

The appearance of Spanish mackerel usually heralds the end of bonito action. But if you’re out there on the day they come blasting into town, you might see some great stuff. I’ve seen the whole beach covered with diving birds from one inlet to the next. All the usual tactics are good when that happens. Casting with small spoons and jigs is my favorite.

The first two or three weeks of May are when the absolutely best action occurs on the Roanoke River. Striped bass will put on a show. Fish early and late with single-hook-rigged surface lures such as Zara Spooks and Pop-r-s. They will try to kill them. I mean literally. They smack them with their tails, use their dorsal spines, and of course try to eat them.

The striped bass spawn is approaching, which takes place in very fecund waters. In order to counter this abundance of life, striped bass kill the eggs of predator species like sunfish, catfish, and carp as fast as they can. So when you cast a topwater plug into the Roanoke during striper spawning season, they will hit it with the spines on their backs, anal spines, and tails, in order to kill the enemy. It can be amazing when you’re there in early May.

Again, this happens fast. If you’re there when it happens, it’s amazing. If you’re there when it’s done, you’ve missed it. You’ve got to be quick.

Big trout numbers can vary in May until it seems they’re gone. But they’re not. They will move to bigger bodies of water and be moving faster. By May, you have to cover a lot of water fast. Grass flats and humps in more open areas are good to cover with topwater jigs. True bonus will be the red drum that get mixed with them and stay around the rest of the summer.

Have I covered everything that spring offers? Definitely not. Don’t even get me started on purely freshwater stuff. That’s another whole book. But if there’s not enough here to keep you busy, there’s offshore opportunities, bottom fishing and just enough surprises to keep even an old hand guessing.

We all like vibrant colors and new show-offs in our gardens, and with a mailbox full of gardening catalogs this time of year that advertise all sorts of gorgeous goodies, what’s a gardener to do? Ignore all the pretties?

Though it is tempting to collect plant specimens from faraway lands — a part of human history that is many, many centuries old and not likely to fizzle out any time soon — there’s a risk to introducing non-native species to your garden.

So, what’s so bad about trying out new plants? Sometimes plants from far off make it, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they thrive, and sometimes they really thrive, to the point of becoming dangerously invasive. Sadly, the only way to find out is to try it, often with disastrous results.

While natives have evolved over centuries to survive in certain soil and temperature conditions, and native pollinators have thrived along with them, non-natives often throw off the delicate balance.

Some pollinators, such as monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus), have specific plants for feeding or laying their eggs on. Monarchs love milkweed, both to nosh on and for their nurseries. The plants and butterflies have developed a symbiotic relationship.

Milkweed (Asclepias spp.) is the sole host plant for monarchs. Momma monarchs lay their eggs on milkweed plants. When the eggs hatch, the caterpillars feed on the leaves of the milkweed.

While poisonous to most critters, including humans, the monarchs use the toxins as their first line of defense. Because the milkweeds are toxic to many critters, the monarchs store the toxins in their bodies, thus making them unpalatable to many predators. The butterfly’s bright orange coloring serves as an added warning.

Adult monarchs feed on brightly colored flowers such as zinnias, sunflower, golden rod, asters, and lantana. Since milkweeds are, well, weedy looking, and because people fear them as a poisonous plant, many people rid their yards and woods of the plants.

But wait … can’t you just go to a nursery and buy milkweed plants? Again, native versus non-native.

Native milkweeds die back in winter, encouraging monarchs to migrate. Tropical milkweeds such as Asclepias curassavica, do not die back, confusing the monarchs and tricking them into staying.

Because the tropical variety overwinters, a harmful protozoan parasite (Ophryocystis elektroscirrha) also overwinters on the plant. The spores of this parasite accumulate on the plant and infect monarch caterpillars, causing infection and deforming wings, leading to death. 

Natives versus non-natives are kind of like name brand groceries versus store brand. Some things you can’t substitute. Like peanut butter, for instance. Team Jif all the way. Cream cheese has to be Philadelphia brand or nothing.

It may be cheaper and it may look the same, but the qualities you prize are muted or nonexistent and it won’t do what you want.

Growing up, we all took weedy lots and meadows for granted. They were just there, something waiting to be mowed and maintained to human standards.

Somewhere in the last few decades, or centuries, we’ve lost our appreciation for lush cottage garden-type landscapes and replaced them with sterile, manicured expanses of monoculture.

Monocultures, such as grass lawns, while orderly and green, feed pretty much nothing. In past times, there would still be enough wild places around to offset lawns and support plants and insects and critters. With more and more pavement, more and more houses and stores and buildings sprouting up every day, it’s becoming harder and harder for wildlife to survive.

We are fortunate enough to live in a place with vast tracts of woodlands and fields to support biodiversity. Anybody local ever hike the Patsy Pond loop on N.C. Highway 24 in Newport? Or any of our local trails, really?

At first glance, it looks, well, weedy. Take your time and really look. Because it is so “weedy,” there is a plethora of pollinators and critters.

A patch of purple blazing star (liatris) and honeybees here. Some native grasses and a lizard or toad there. Wild native blueberries and other berries scattered around. Toadstools on a rotting log. Lichens and fungi growing on trees. Beetles. Flies. Gnats. Mosquitoes.

While the insects bother us, they provide an all-you-can-eat buffet for birds and toads and turtles and frogs. Because the plants are all natives, they’re well adapted to the poor, sandy soil, humidity, wind, salt, and heat prevalent in our coastal area.

Walking our trails, in addition to lots of natives, you may also notice invasive plants.

Centipede grass (Eremochloa ophiuroides) tracked in on someone’s shoes and thriving because it found a perfect spot for itself, and because it isn’t being mowed. Did you know it was once an on the books law that it was illegal to plant Centipede within a certain distance of crops?

One of the worst invasives is Elaeagnus, or Russian tea olive. With its distinctive speckled foliage, tannish on the bottom and green on the top, this one is easy to spot. Originating in China and Japan, spreading invasively here by the bird/berry method, this fugitive from Sleeping Beauty’s protective wall was planted as hedges and soil conservation for decades.

Did I mention it has thorns? Nasty thorns. And it’s almost impossible to kill.

So if you don’t want to plant non-native invasives, what can you plant? Kind of depends on where you are, your soil, what your objectives are. Do you want color? Trees? Butterflies? Wildlife? Some combination of all of the above?

What if you love a certain non-native but don’t like its downside? With a bit of research, you can probably find a native with similar qualities.

To that end, check out these resources:

• go.ncsu.edu/CoastalLandscapes
• https://ncwildflower.org/native-plant-nurseries/
• https://homegrownnationalpark.org/keystone-plants/
• https://plants.ces.ncsu.edu/
• https://ncseagrant.ncsu.edu/plant-this-instead/
• https://auth1.dpr.ncparks.gov/nbnc/a/accounts.php

These are just a few of the many resources designed to help you help the environment while beautifying your yard. With a little research, planting can be much more than just seeing a really cool plant and sticking it in your yard only to regret it later.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Early this February, the Outer Banks battled severe winter weather, a closed main highway due to overwash, and iced-over ferry terminals. But amidst the freeze, a more permanent disaster unfolded. On Feb. 1 and 2, the Atlantic Ocean claimed its latest prize: four homes in Buxton.

This brings the total number of properties lost to the ocean since 2020 to 31. While these collapses create a spectacle on social media and news outlets, for coastal managers, they are anticipated events and a reminder of our losing battle against an ever-encroaching sea.

The consequences from each collapse extend beyond the individual homeowners. Scattered debris creates hazardous conditions that close shorelines, deter tourists, and threaten the local tourism economy.

While homeowners are technically responsible for hiring contractors for debris removal, county and National Park Service crews from the neighboring Cape Hatteras National Seashore are often left to fill the gap. And until cleanup is complete, waves of nails, furniture, septic systems, and splintered wood create dangerous conditions for neighbors, tourists, and wildlife. Ultimately, we are trying to force static buildings onto dynamic barrier islands, and the islands are fighting back.

The sand subscription trap

Most of these threatened homes were built on these barrier islands between the 1970s and 1990s, originally standing hundreds of feet from the Atlantic Ocean. Today, homes in the Outer Banks cling to a shoreline eroding at rates of up to about 20 feet per year. This erosion is driven by rising sea levels, expected to increase locally by 15 to 22 inches by 2050, and intensified coastal storms.

Currently, our primary adaptation strategy is beach nourishment, the artificial pumping of sand onto existing beaches to resist erosion and protect inland structures. However, this strategy is proving unsustainable. The rate of erosion has simply outpaced our administrative capacity to fund, permit, and engineer new projects. The beach in front of the latest collapses in Buxton was nourished less than four years ago. In essence, we are signing up for a recurring subscription to sand, one that costs more every year while protecting homes for a shorter period.

The case for buyouts

What most reports on these collapses fail to highlight is that a financially viable solution exists. A 2023 Western Carolina University cost-benefit analysis of Rodanthe, a community on the Outer Banks that has seen 12 collapses since 2020, found that long-term beach nourishment would cost the municipality approximately $120 million over 15 years. In contrast, it would cost just over $40 million to proactively buy out and remove the 80 most at-risk homes.

While the recent collapses in Buxton are making headlines, Buxton and Rodanthe, as the two communities where homes have collapsed, face different realities. Buxton is largely a year-round community where erosion threatens the broader tourism-driven economy, though the collapsing oceanfront homes themselves are primarily second homes. Conversely, Rodanthe is largely composed of vacation homes with a relatively small tax base.

Further, the somewhat recently completed “Jug-Handle” Rodanthe Bridge bypassed Rodanthe’s erosion hot spot, which has mitigated need to protect that stretch of highway. The exorbitant costs of beach nourishment and limited funds make Rodanthe unlikely to afford nourishment, and make buyouts the most logical strategy.

Buyouts are a tool for managed retreat where local, state, or federal governments purchase hazard-prone homes to relocate residents and demolish the existing structures, creating open space that naturally buffers against coastal flooding.

While beach nourishment projects in this region are projected to last about five years, a buyout is a permanent removal of the risk. There is already a precedent for this in Rodanthe as well. In 2023, the National Park Service used funds from offshore oil and gas leasing earnings to buy and demolish two threatened homes before they collapsed.

Breaking the insurance cycle

Critics often point to the loss of local tax revenue as a barrier to buyouts. However, the WCU study found that property tax revenue lost from these 80 homes, valued between $7 to $10 million over 30 years, is still significantly less than the cost to maintain the beach through nourishment. Further, our current system under federal guidelines creates deep regional inequities. Reimbursement for beach nourishment projects is only available to communities that can first afford millions to construct an engineered beach.

Only when a disaster is declared does a beach become eligible to receive emergency funding for the volume of sand lost during a specific storm-related disaster. Because of the steep costs of nourishment, only affluent communities with wealthier tax bases can afford to protect their homes.

Where federal dollars don’t pay for sand, the inherent risk of living along an eroding shoreline is subsidized through the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP). Local and federal agencies lack the authority to force homeowners to demolish their compromised properties and therefore proactive removal is entirely voluntary and costs homeowners over $25,000 out-of-pocket. Homeowners with mortgages in these flood zones are incentivized to wait for the inevitable to be eligible to receive up to $250,000 for the structure and $100,000 for contents from the NFIP only after their home has collapsed.

Congress is largely unresponsive to escalating climate risks associated with intensifying hazards and subsequent uninsurable flood risks. Even when there have been legislative reforms to the NFIP, there have been unintended consequences for homeowners who are unable to afford higher premiums and also unable to sell their properties, with disproportionate impacts on vulnerable communities. With Rodanthe consisting primarily of vacation rentals, there is a deep equity question about how to fairly allocate taxpayer funds when low- and middle-income households are disproportionately impacted by flooding nationwide.

There is bipartisan recognition that this system must change. In 2025, Rep. Greg Murphy, R-N.C.-3, co-sponsored the Preventing Environmental Hazards Act (H.R.3161) to address this issue. The bill would authorize advance NFIP payouts of up to 40% of a home’s value up to $250,000 to proactively help homeowners demolish threatened homes before they collapse. To build on this, experts propose a “discounts for buyouts” reform to the NFIP, offering homeowners lower premiums in exchange for their agreement to sell their home and relocate once their home is substantially damaged by flooding. In addition, by prioritizing residences valued at under $250,000, the NFIP could equitably relocate vulnerable primary homes over wealthy second-home owners.

Proactive planning over reactive cleanup

Buyout programs are not a “silver bullet” to ongoing erosion and sea level rise. They come with emotional consequences, including homeowner displacement and impacts to community identity. Also, a large-scale buyout program would undoubtedly require significant local, state, and/or federal funds to remove these at-risk properties. However, voluntary programs that give homeowners autonomy over decisions on whether to participate in buyouts can mitigate these social costs.

One of the biggest hurdles is politics. Supporting government-funded buyouts can be seen as admitting defeat to the environment and is a political liability. Andrew Coburn, the associate director of the program for the Study of Developed Shorelines at WCU, noted that it is hard to imagine that a politician would ever tell their constituents, “Well, I guess it’s time we retreated.” Instead, we let the ocean decide when retreat from the shoreline happens, often at a much higher long-term cost.

The Outer Banks is an early warning sign for the rest of the U.S. coastline. While the only option appears to be expensive and temporary beach nourishment and insurance bailouts, there is a more holistic, science-based solution where long-term benefits outweigh the costs.

The logical solution is based on the values and needs of the broader Outer Banks community, U.S. taxpayers, the long-term health of the ecosystem, and equity. In the face of the 32nd collapse, we must shift from the cycle of federal subsidies and reactive cleanups toward insurance reforms and proactive retreat programs that offer homeowners a viable way out, before the Atlantic decides for them.

By the time you read this we will know the complete outcome of the aftermath of the cold event of late January/early February. Let’s take a look at why this occurred in the first place, the immediate effect, and what some old-timers think about possible consequences.

In the southern portion of the East Coast we have numerous species of gamefish that will use shallow creeks in winter. North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries biologist Chris Batsavage says many of these species will be found in shallow creeks during winter.

“The mud bottom found in many shallow creeks, along with their shelter from the wind, can provide warmer water and forage during the winter,” Batsavage told Coastal Review.

Usually this provides a nice arrangement, and the fish are happy in sunny, hidey holes. However, through the years there have been situations where their natural tendency is detrimental to their survival. When there is an extreme cold snap that leads to creeks icing over for extended periods of time, fish using these waters may experience cold stun, or even be killed. The longer freezing conditions occur, the more severe the effect can be.

It would seem that the cold of those couple of weeks in January and February did the job. I talked to fishy friends all along the coast and their words were not encouraging.

“It seems there’s already been four major kills reported. I think it will be very significant,” reported Capt. Harry Meraklis of Kitty Hawk.

Capt. Dave Rohde of Kitty Hawk told me, “The sound was frozen solid yesterday. They are floating everywhere.”

Batsavage said quite a few reports were coming in from the public and division staff.

As is policy in these cases, the Division of Marine Fisheries shut down the speckled trout fishery for all users on Friday, Feb. 6. At this point the closure extends to June 30. However, an official opening date had not been announced at the time of this publication.

The reason is twofold: We have had significant cold events in consecutive years (first time in my memory although I am sure others go further back than me), and this 2026 cold kill was unprecedented in both breadth and length, in recent memory. The record amounts of snow and the length of time that temperatures were well below 32 degrees left creeks frozen for longer than I recall in my 30 years in the state. People were ice skating down the middle of Emerald Drive in Emerald Isle.

Fish kills have been reported as far south as Florida. I remember being down there in spring after a big cold spell killed lots of snook years ago. It was grim.

Experience tells us that this should work itself out. The fish themselves have evolved over millennia and will sort it for themselves. Capt. Seth Vernon of Wilmington holds this view.

“Nature seeks homeostasis,” Vernon said. “I would hope we keep the pressure off of them until after they have spawned, and they will make up for the deficit in the numbers of eggs produced and fertilized.”

Capt. Rick Patterson of Cape Carteret said that, in the cold kills that he had seen over the years, “there will still be trout this summer and fall. The numbers of big fish may be down, however.”

The hope is that recent conservation efforts will pay off in quickly rebuilding speckled trout populations.

“It seems like the stock rebounded quicker from the cold-kill events over the last 10 years or so, compared to those from further back in time,” said Batsavage.

Noted Carolina Sportsman columnist Capt. Jerry Dilsaver of Oak Island adds that, “I think it’s safe to believe the closures help the trout numbers rebound quicker.”

Dilsaver is quick to point out that the statewide closure is wise.

“For what it’s worth, I have heard some fishermen (at Ocean Isle Beach) saying, “Why did they close the season here? We didn’t have any significant kills.’”

Any different won’t work, he says.

“If an area is left open, it will be inundated with fishermen from other areas, and they will most likely harm the fish worse than the freeze,” said Dilsaver.

These are wise words from a wise man. Pay attention. There’ve been and will continue to be plenty of complaints about this in the months to come.

Batsavage agrees.

“It’s hard to measure the impact of closing the fishery after a cold-kill event, but reducing fishing mortality likely benefits the recovery,” he said.

In my personal experience (if that’s even worth considering), the closure helps the fish recover. I have caught 25-inch-long trout on topwater plugs in May while casting for redfish, and I personally have seen fish populations rebound after having been given a few months to recover from cold kills. It would be pretty obvious next fall when everybody had good action.

The only problem this time is the unprecedented nature of this year’s weather. Anyone who says they know precisely what is going to happen, well … no, they don’t.

Be patient. Give the system a chance to recover. The experts who I know know, regardless of what Uncle Ernie on the Internet says.

Second installment of a two-part series special to Coastal Review

My mullet-fishing experience began in Carteret County, over half a century ago, but over the subsequent years and many scientific expeditions to find fossils, we have continued to cross paths with our “jumpin’ mullet,” catching them in places as far-flung as Hawaii and seeing them in markets of Europe, Africa, and Madagascar.

We have long marveled that our local tradition for drying mullet roe, which goes back many generations in my wife Lida Pigott’s family, somehow has its roots on the Mediterranean Island of Sardinia, the source of “Cabras gold,” the prized bottarga di muggine of Italian cuisine.

On my first visit to this enchanted island, just off the coast of Italy and second only to Sicily in size in the Mediterranean, I presented a talk at an international meeting of paleontologists and archaeologists on the topic of “Early Man in Island Environments,” featuring my years of work studying prehistoric Madagascar. I was fully captivated by the mysterious Sardinian landscapes, with more than 7,000 ancient ruins from the Neolithic and Bronze Age, some as old as Stonehenge and the pyramids.

I told myself I had to get back to Sardinia one day with more time to absorb it. I knew Lida would love this place because it is so strange and at once familiar. That was 1988.

We finally got back there a few months ago, for a nice long stay, and one of our projects was to explore the very heartland of one of Italian cuisine’s most famous products, bottarga di muggine, our own beloved mullet roe.

The wonderful archaeological museums and sites on the island tell the story well. Big estuaries with hydrology and scale similar to our own Core Sound, known locally as stagno (ponds), have been exploited for mullet seasonally, just as here in coastal NC or Hawaii or hundreds of other places in all the warm oceans of the world.

Mullet have undoubtedly fed Sardinians steadily for 5,000 years or more, from the indigenous Nuragic culture, through successive colonization by the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Spaniards, and medieval feudal lords.

In fact, one of the last vestiges of feudalism as an economic strategy anywhere in Europe was the mullet fishery of famous bottarga producers like the Stagno di Mar `e Pontis, near Cabras, Sardinia.

By the mid-1900s this ancient lucrative industry, still owned by what today might be described as an “oligarch,” was regulated through eight levels of bureaucracy, whereby so many folks with fancy titles and allegiance to the “owner” got such large cuts that sometimes not much was left for the fishermen who did the catching.

Long-standing issues flared up regarding the maintenance of the canals to the ocean that have regulated the water flow for centuries, even millennia. Poaching was rampant. The fishery was in a poor state.

Something had to be done, and some violence came with the transition, as fishermen’s consortiums, government officials, and local business interests tried to set things right in a variety of sometimes conflicting ways.

In an infamous 1978 crime incident, the feudal overlord, Don Efisio Carta, was kidnapped by banditi and never found, although a ransom was collected.

By the 1980s, the now outlawed feudal hierarchy had been replaced by a consortium of fishermen’s cooperatives, and to this day they run a thriving fishery based primarily on the mullet and bottarga but also with eel and tuna fisheries, shellfish farming, and other maritime industries to sustain the large work force through the off-season for the migratory mullet.

Over several weeks, Lida and I had been eating seafood, especially targeting bottarga dishes, all over Italy and Sardinia. We were especially excited to arrive in the absolute world capital of the jumpin’ mullet and the bottarga industry, Cabras, for a few days of culinary “mullet research.”

We visited the splendid local museums, but as mullet fishermen ourselves we were just as interested to see where the fishermen store their nets and dock their boats, what kinds of tackle they are using, and what they are generally about.

We were amazed to discover that the Cabras cooperative uses a single type of molded fiberglass skiff, a stout outboard motor of a single brand, and nets nearly all alike in tidy labeled bins and net bags.

As net hangers ourselves, we were impressed that their tackle and techniques looked almost exactly like ours, down to the corks and knots.

The folks at a local store selling bottarga and smoked mullet insisted that, with our interest in the subject, we really had to visit the museum dedicated to the history of the local fishing culture, just down the road a bit.

We walked there along a causeway through the vast wetlands to reach the cluster of buildings on a high place out in the marsh, beside a deep channel leading out into the stagno.

Part of the “fish tourism” project of the Cabras fishermen’s consortium, Mar’e Pontis Museum had a sweet friendly charm that reminded me of our own Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center on Harkers Island.

The site also hosts a great restaurant, featuring local seafood, and an ancient chapel where the fishermen have prayed for safe and productive fishing for almost a thousand years.

From Pinuccio Carrus, a mullet fisherman who also guides museum tours, we learned about the boats, fishing gear, and thousands of years of fishing and fishing culture on this spot.

Probably since the Neolithic, fishermen here used small agile boats made entirely of reeds from the marsh, and some still do.

Wooden rowboats from years past, shaped like large high-ended canoes, similar to the gondolas of Venice, are now mostly rotting in yards, with molded fiberglass being the material of choice for most commercial fishing in the stagno today.

The museum had all kinds of nets and traps, for mullet and eels primarily, including ones that looked like our pound nets and gill nets.

Today, the fishermen use monofilament gill nets almost identical to ours in North Carolina, although the spear-fishing from reed boats is still practiced, too, much as it has been since prehistoric times.

Drawings and photos of fishing activity during the heyday of the feudal fishery show pound nets and fish corrals full of mullet with fishermen standing in their midst, taking them out by hand.

Having done a bit of that myself, I couldn’t help wondering if they had to watch out for stingrays lurking on the bottom of the mass of hemmed-in fish the way we do!

Of all the mullet-based meals of the trip – and there were many all over Italy and Sardinia – one of the most memorable was at the Restaurante de Madre de Rosy Circu in the heart of Cabras, at a junction of several of its ancient labyrinthine streets.

It was the only time anywhere that we dined on an entirely mullet-based pizza. It had a thin crust, a tomato and parsley sauce, and a topping of smoked mullet, sprinkled liberally with ground mullet roe (bottarga), a kind of double-mullet treat!

Another favorite we had several times around the island was a type of thick, rectangular local pasta with tiny clams (vongole veraci) and loads of ground bottarga. One of the best dishes was purple artichokes smothered in thin amber slices of bottarga, a feast for both the eye and palate.

Local shops sold a wonderful pâté made from bottarga and just right for any imaginable cracker.

The mullet fishery of Sardinia, although today only a small fraction of the historical fishery, seems to be doing fairly well. The industry in value-added fish products from local mullet, eel, and tuna seems to be thriving.

One change is that whereas relatively cheap U.S. mullet roe used to be imported salted or frozen to Italian factories for conversion to preciously expensive bottarga (not quite as expensive as caviar, but in that league), fish industries from Carteret County, to Manatee County, Florida (Cortez area) have sprung up that convert local mullet roe to a quality bottarga that sells on the internet for prices similar to the celebrated Sardinian stuff.

Combined with beach tourism and the draw from internationally unique 3,000-year-old giant stone statues (I Giganti di Mont’e Prama), folks there on the Sinis Peninsula seem to make a pretty good living by the stagno.

The mullet still come in large numbers from the sea every year, swelling the estuaries and feeding the people, dolphins, and birdlife, then returning to deeper water to complete their life cycle. Just like back home here in Carteret County,  and virtually all the warm coastal waters of the globe.

Our mullet is a fish for the world, a true cosmopolitan. I’m glad to have made its acquaintance in so many wonderful places.

First of two parts in a series special to Coastal Review

To many Carolinians coming to the beach for a little fishing, the mullet is a lowly baitfish, often cut into strips for bottom fishing. They may confuse it with an unrelated fish in the drum family known locally as the “sea mullet.”

To the folks of Down East Carteret County, and some locals throughout coastal NC, however, the “jumpin’ mullet,” as they call it, owns a special place in their hearts and kitchens. Often known as the grey mullet, flathead mullet, or striped mullet elsewhere in the English-speaking world, Mugil cephalus is a consummate jumper.

Back in 1980, while cutting mullet strips to use on offshore trips on the Carolina Princess with the original owner and captain, the late James “Woo-woo” Harker of Harkers Island, he and I would joke about how much better-flavored they were than the fish that we caught with them to sell at the fish house or that our clients from upstate were seeking on their charter trips with us — red snappers and groupers mostly. (Those were different times!)

For nearly a decade by then, I had been learning from my in-laws, the Pigotts and Nelsons of Carteret County: 1) how to strike-net mullet in a fast shallow-draft boat with lots of gill-net set in a circle around a seething school of mullet; 2) how to charcoal the fillets on pecan wood, for several hundred people at a time if necessary; and 3) how to prepare that most wonderful of eastern North Carolina delicacies – dried mullet roe – the bottarga di muggine of Italian cuisine (more on that later).

Well over a century ago, many Carteret County families literally cast their fates with the mullet fishery. Some of my wife Lida’s relatives even followed the mullet fishery elsewhere, particularly to Cortez and Punta Gorda, Florida, as described by historians Dr. Mary Fulford Green and David Cecelski.

This “mullet fishermen’s migration” showed how important one species of fish can be to human livelihoods and culture, reminiscent of the singular role of cod in European history or salmon for the Northwest Coast Native American tribes and the indigenous Ainu of northern Japan.

But where did North Carolinians pick up mullet fishing and all that goes with it, especially their appetite for the dried egg masses? North Carolina explorer John Lawson wrote in 1709 that eastern parts of the state had “Mullets, the same as in England, and in great Plenty in all places where the water is salt or brackish.”

Perhaps Down Easters may have learned originally about mullet and their fabulous roe from their Native American neighbors in the late 1600s and early 1700s, who undoubtedly knew it well.

Or perhaps, one could speculate, they learned or relearned directly from cultural transmission from Europe. After all, fishermen in this area have been selling mullet roe for export to Italy for many decades. In any case, drying mullet roe for cooking later is part of the “traditional ecological knowledge“ (TEK of anthropological lingo), of eastern Carteret County people.

During World War II, my father-in-law, the late Osborne G. “Bill” Pigott, asked his family back home to send him just one thing – some dried mullet roe. When he heated it on the wood stove in his tent somewhere in France, it drove his tentmates out with its powerful smell. “That was OK,” Bill would recount with a twinkle “more for me that way.”

As Lida and I made our way through the 70s and a subsequent half-century, we crossed paths with the cosmopolitan, under-rated mullet in many improbable places. It’s truly a worldwide fish and fishery, we began to realize, as we encountered them in fish markets of Europe, Africa, Madagascar, Hawaii, and elsewhere.

Part of our research involved excavating fossil sites on islands, to try to better understand past natural and human roles in the drastic environmental changes there. Lida and I feel really lucky to have done island paleoecology all around the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans.

Several of our sites on the Hawaiian island of Kaua`i, especially Makauwahi Cave on the south shore, were full of bones of prehistoric mullet, that same Mugil cephalus as our “jumpin’ mullet.”

Sites we excavated and radiocarbon dated showed mullet were there in large numbers thousands of years before the first humans to land on those shores. But we also studied prehistorically managed fishponds, places where the mullet (`ama`ama in Hawaiian) were raised in large numbers.

Oral tradition indicates that mullet were caught in nearby estuaries and transferred live to these ponds, or lured inside through slatted gates. They were kept well-fed on what mullet like best, low-on-the-food-chain treats like algae and zooplankton. These most revered fish were for consumption only by the ali`i or chiefly class. Commoners could make do with ordinary reef fish and such, but for the chief and his guests – it was likely to be `ama`ama.

On outings with my friend Joe Kanahele of Ni`ihau Island, I had the good fortune on several occasions to see how native Hawaiians catch mullet and similar fish today. With an oversized cast net, he would often catch a dozen large fish in one throw, after a careful stalk along a rocky shore.

On the Alakoko (Menehune) Fishpond near Lihu`e, I helped the pondkeeper, Robert Rego, set a gill net across the pond, and we caught and ate some nice mullet — from the same place Hawaiian aquaculturists practiced mullet farming in a pond that our radiocarbon dating had shown they built in the 1300s.

Native Hawaiians were among the first people to build fishponds and cultivate fish on a large scale, but they were certainly not the only ancient folks, as Pliny the Elder writes about Roman fishponds shortly before his demise in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, the volcano that buried the Pompeii area in 79 C.E.

The magnificent tile mosaics and other art recovered from the buried city included pictures of — you guessed it — mullet. Two kinds actually, our grey, or jumpin’ mullet (cephalo in Italian), and the red mullet (Mullus surmuletus, or triglia di scoglio in Italian).

So the ancient Romans knew all about our dear Carteret County fish, but although Rome might have been the capital of the known world at that time, the real capital of the jumpin’ mullet is arguably the Mediterranean island of Sardinia.

In part 2, Lida and I will make a “culinary pilgrimage” to the very heart of the mullet fishing and bottarga-making industries, along a body of water so much like our own Core Sound. Our cosmopolitan fish was already at the center of the culture there before the time of Stonehenge and the pyramids.

Next in the series: Back to where it all began

Presented in cooperation with the Pea Island Cookhouse Museum on Roanoke Island.

Of the many documents associated with the Freedmen’s Colony on Roanoke Island, a letter signed by Richard Etheridge and eight others, and with 58 other names shown, each marked with an “X”, is particularly important.

The undated letter, received on Dec. 25, 1867, is noted by the academic and author, Patricia Click in her scholarly book about the colony, “A Time Full of Trial.”

There will be two opportunities to visit the Pea Island Cookhouse Museum Feb. 28, from 10 a.m. – noon, or 1 p.m. – 3 p.m.  During each, at 11 a.m. and 2 p.m., the latest version of our short video, “A Checkered Past: The Story of Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers” will be shown. This 15-minute video, based on two events held during Black History Month in 2023, was recently revised to include additional information about our organization.  It features Pea Island Preservation Society Inc. board members, youth volunteers, and descendants of the Pea Island lifesavers who were interviewed.

For our organization, Black History Month is a reflective time, and especially to think about the Freedmen’s Colony on Roanoke Island and the U.S Life-Saving Service (and later, the early U.S. Coast Guard station) at Pea Island.  Both are important to fully understand the history of the Outer Banks.

Keeper Richard Etheridge, who grew up enslaved on Roanoke Island, is perhaps most known for his leadership and the legacy associated with the Pea Island station.  Following his death in May 1900, the station remained staffed primarily with Black surfman crews until it was deactivated in March 1947 and officially decommissioned two years later.

Etheridge’s association with two letters about the Freedmen’s Colony are not as well known.  The first is a letter he co-authored in 1865 with a fellow solider, William Benson, protesting the mistreatment of those left behind at the Freedmen’s Colony.  A framed typed version of it hangs at the Cookhouse. 

The second letter, a photo of one page included here, shows Etheridge’s signature and eight others.  This page is one of two signature pages that accompanied the undated letter.  The full letter includes the names of fifty-eight men with an “X’’ mark, a practice used to indicate a person was illiterate.

Often when the Freedmen’s Colony story is told what many focus on are the several missionary teachers who arrived from the North and the sawmill provided to build 500 small homes, each with a small portion of land to raise crops.   Also frequently mentioned are the churches and schools freedmen also helped to build to have their own places to worship and be educated. 

This undated letter reminds us of another important, yet unfortunately often overlooked part of the story – that in the end thousands who came to the Roanoke Island colony and other Freedmen’s Bureau locations established during the Civil War were ordered to leave – sometimes forcefully, and sometimes cruelly and even brutally.  

On Feb. 28, during the morning and afternoon, the Cookhouse Museum will be open to visitors. This year Cathy Steever a researcher and friend to our organization will join us. Cathy has been uncovering the remarkable story of the Freedmen’s Colony on Roanoke Island for several years. She is especially drawn to the colony’s everyday realities — work, schooling, housing, faith resilience and hard choices families faced during and after the war. Lately, she and I have been collaborating on research findings, especially the stories that best reflect the challenges and difficulties those who lived on the Freedmen’s Colony faced, and lesser known stories.

The complete undated letter will be read and interpreted on Feb. 28. The noted letter portrays what life was like for the freedmen and their objections to being forced to leave. 

Those who had hoped to see the “First Light of Freedom” as the memorial at the Fort Raleigh site reads, pleads for a short extension of time to stay and for leniency “having been thrown out without shelter” as the noted letter received on Christmas Day in 1867 reveals.

Given the small size of the Cookhouse, those interested in visiting are requested to RSVP indicating if the morning or the afternoon session is preferred.  Those who have a special connection or interest in this history are especially encouraged to come.  Those who plan to visit are also requested to RSVP us at: friends@peaislandpreservationsociety.com. Given the small size of the Cookhouse, RSVP’s are requested soon so we can plan accordingly.

‘Cookhouse Chats’

As director of outreach and education, I am also pleased to announce this special opening on Feb. 28 is also the start of PIPSI’s latest initiative, “Cookhouse Chats”.  These selected chats will focus on less known or newly discovered stories as well as potential future collaborations with interested parties.  

The next planned chat, one about research findings pertaining to “checkerboard crews,” or mixed-race crews, will be announced in the spring. 

Presently, by email request the Cookhouse is “open by appointment only” preferably for group visits and special events.

How many of you make New Year’s resolutions?

How many resolutions do you actually keep longer than the time it took to make them?

The urge to do better, to start a new year with good intentions, is deeply ingrained in the human consciousness.

Want to know the most common gardening resolution?

“That’s it! I’m done fighting the heat and the humidity. I’m done battling the weeds and the weather. I’ve had it with the critters! I am not going to have a garden this year!”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Like the rest of those wayward New Year’s resolutions — this year, I’m going to eat healthy. I’m going to the gym. The determination to not garden will also fall by the wayside like a bowling pin taken out by an expert split-shot from the league champ.

As soon as the dirt warms up and starts smelling right …

… petrichor.

That’s the official name for how dirt smells, especially after a rainfall.

Once the scent of petrichor hits your snoot, all your good intentions and resolutions will be blowin’ in the wind like a poof of dust.

Geosmin, a substance produced by soil bacteria called actinomycetes, along with other microbes, is what creates the scent. Being extremely sensitive to petrichor and able to detect it at very low concentrations is what allows us wild humans to find fresh water and fertile land.

The scent of petrichor also triggers the urge to get out there and play in the dirt. Despite our best intentions, it laughingly short circuits our brains and insists we dig, dig, dig!

Not only that, but the days are slowly getting longer, coaxing and enticing us to spend more time outside.

Our mailboxes are full of seed catalogs, with their drool-worthy descriptions and their state-fair-winning, museum-worthy photos of all the goodies you can grow.

New varieties! Heirloom crops! Bigger! Better! This is the year! You can do it!

Unfortunately, the contents of those catalogs and the actual state of your garden, not to mention the success of your bounty, resemble nothing so much as … the difference between the honeymoon and the marriage.

One’s wearing rose-colored blinders, all full of hope and excitement for new beginnings. The other can be a long slog of hard work, hopefully culminating in something worthwhile.

Gardening kind of fulfills your New Year’s resolutions to eat healthier and get more exercise. If you can get your garden to grow and produce, you can certainly eat healthier — tastier, too. And getting all that produce from A to Z requires a lot of effort. Preparing the ground, planting, hoeing, weeding, picking and toting, cleaning and preserving all require a tremendous amount of energy.

Cussing, too. It takes a lot of lung capacity to adequately berate the turtles hollowing out your cantaloupes. Or the deer mowing down your green beans. Or the rabbits mowing down everything. The squirrels digging up everything you plant almost before you get it planted. The crows noshing on your corn before it even has a chance to sprout. The voles, tunneling down the middle of your rows and eating seeds and small plants. The hornworms decimating your maters. Birds pecking all your strawberries.

None of that takes into account the weeds and insects. There’s a reason the saying “growing like a weed” still resonates. After all your painstaking seed selecting and diligent plant pampering, nothing grows as fast as a weed. One tiny shower of rain and voila, Jack’s beanstalk is racing toward the sky, leaving you puling ’maters and cukes withering in the dust.

And the insects! Planting is all about the honeymoon phase. Planning and implementing and patting yourself on the back ’cause “this is so easy!”

Just about the time you start thinking, “No problem, I got this. I don’t know why anyone thinks this is hard,”the new starts wearing off and the gnats show up. The no-see-ums, aka minuscule velociraptors with jagged needle teeth. Mosquitoes. Yellow flies. Things with no names, like some huge alien creature from Jumanji, all fangs and stingers.

Then, just to add a little more fun to the challenge, the humidity chimes in like a sauna on steroids. This happens usually about the same time the rain disappears like a mirage in the desert and you have to start dragging hoses around — and hopefully remembering to turn them off — before you drown what you were trying to give a drink to.

Along about now is about when the “I’m not doing this next year” part of the equation starts looking better and better. It keeps poking you with all the chutzpah of a pesky little brother in church, reminding you what you said like a toddler on repeat spouting a cuss word in front of your in-laws.

Since you broke your resolution — or maybe it broke you — might as well go ahead and plant a garden. You know you’re going to anyway.

Mid-January is just a tad early, but it’s almost time for potatoes, and cabbage, and onions — any of the cool-weather crops, or cole crops. You might even be still harvesting some of your fall garden.

Go ahead and thumb through those seed catalogs like a kid with the Sears Roebuck, circling everything you want. Go ahead and order or buy those seeds, like the kid who traded his family’s cow for the magic beans. Hopefully you will just grow a regular garden, minus the giant.

Whether you stick to your resolution or not, enjoy the smell of dirt. If you’re strong enough to resist the pull, kudos to you. Whether you garden, or simply go to the farmer’s market and enjoy the fruits of someone else’s labors, you can still delight in the taste of fresh produce. If you can or freeze produce, you’ll extend the time you can savor the veggies.

As you’re working out and doing your breathing exercises, keep repeating to yourself, “I am not going to garden next year!”

Maybe if you repeat it enough times, you’ll actually believe it.

Note: The Feb. 7 event described below has been rescheduled for Feb. 21 because of weather-related issues.

Those who know me best often hear me say I wear two hats. One is to help raise awareness of the story of Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers. The other is to raise awareness of my father and his family who have deep ties to Roanoke Island and a remarkable record military service.

I am thrilled to speak of both on Feb. 7 and to help celebrate a momentous occasion, the fifth anniversary of The Water’s Edge museum.

The accompanying mini-exhibit will be the first outside exhibit there.

An invitation to speak at this event is something I would have never imagined when I first visited Oxford, Maryland, on March 29, 2025. The Water’s Edge had opened just a few years earlier and was new to me. I had never heard of or seen it before.

My niece, a frequent visitor to the Eastern Shore and an avid reader, happened to come across an article about the museum during a stay nearby. During a trip I made to Maryland last year, she urged me to visit the Oxford museum with her and her mother, my sister. Little did I know then what would lie ahead. I still feel the joy I experienced walking in The Water’s Edge for the first time.

I was immediately reminded of the Pea Island Cookhouse Museum on Roanoke Island. Many know me for my connection to this museum. I have helped manage, operate and raise awareness of this museum’s history for several years. Simply known as “the Cookhouse” this museum is a small structure built in the 1930s at the Pea Island station where surfmen cooked and ate their meals.

This historic station was the only U.S. Life-Saving Service (USLSS) station in the country with an African American commander and an all-Black crew. My great-great-uncle served under Keeper Etheridge, as did my great-grandfather. My great-uncle, father and other relatives also served at the Pea Island station. The station was staffed primarily with Black commanders and surfmen crews from January 1880, when Etheridge took command, until March 1947, when my father, Herbert M. Collins, the last surfman left in charge, closed its doors for the last time.

The USLSS station at Pea Island is most known for the Oct.11, 1896, rescue of an all-white contingent on board the shipwrecked E.S. Newman during a fierce hurricane and in the middle of the night. Etheridge and his crew were posthumously awarded the prestigious U.S. Coast Guard Gold Lifesaving Medal for this daring and heroic act in March 1996, some 100 years later.

Another captivating fact is that before becoming a surfman and commanding the Pea Island station, Etheridge grew up enslaved. He had also served with the 36th Regiment of U.S. Colored Troops during the Civil War, enlisting with other men on Roanoke Island to join the fight for freedom. By the time the war ended he had earned the rank of sergeant.

As a visual learner, when I first entered The Water’s Edge I was immediately moved. The colorful images on the walls, particularly the portraits and scenes of daily life in Oxford made me think of my father, grandparents, great-grandparents. The scenes reminded me of my father growing up on Roanoke Island during a time when church, community gatherings, and services were so important to the small community in which he lived.

I imagined him as a young child sitting in the church with his parents, grandparents, cousins, and friends. I imagined a community gathering with food, music, dancing and well wishes as he and his twin brother left Roanoke Island together at just 17 years old, and at their father’s urging, to join the Coast Guard. I imagined the smiles and the sorrow, particularly my grandmother’s likely tears as she watched them leave knowing there was little opportunity for them to succeed if they stayed.

When I returned to my home on Roanoke Island, I quickly sent The Water’s Edge more information, including a video. I also invited members of their staff to come to Roanoke Island to learn more. That resulted in staff members visiting the Cookhouse and staying at my home this past summer.

My talk will include showing the short video, “A Checkered Past: The Story of Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers.” There will also be other images including three, 4-foot-square oil paintings associated with my father’s career, part of my family’s collection, on display for the first time. The artwork is part of an ongoing family creative effort to preserve my father’s life story, and in a creative way, a project we began after his death in March 2010.

I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity on Feb. 7 to wear my “two hats,” one to tell the story of the historic Pea Island station and the other, the story of my father and his family. As a kid, my father and superhero grew up longing to wear a surfman’s uniform.

The picture on the event flyer was commissioned by the late portrait artist John de la Vega. It is based on a photograph of my father shortly after he first reported to Pea Island and as he told me, before his uniform arrived. Thankfully that uniform did arrive, which I am sure put a big smile on his face. He often recalled growing up as a kid longing to wear a Coast Guard uniform one day.

In March 1947, he left Pea Island proudly wearing that uniform. He would serve for 34 years, the longest of anyone in his family.

What if I told you that there was a class of fishing lures that not only imitate what a bait looks like, but also what it feels like?

That we have lures that not only smell like the real thing but also tastes like it? We have copied the movement, sound and exact colors of real baits. What if I told these were real and not some figment of my imagination? Would you ever use any other type of lure again?

Soft plastics have progressively gotten better — so good through the years that they are amazing imitations of life. Let’s talk a bit about where they have come from and where we are today.

The first plastic lures on the market were the Crème Scoundrel worms. They literally looked like earthworms. They were stiff and not at all lifelike. They caught fish.

The first saltwater shrimp imitation I ever used was the Boone Tout. It was a weird name, barely looked like a shrimp, and did nothing in the water. It, too, caught fish.

As the ’70s went on we saw the Tom Mann Jelly Worm add flavor to the mix and the Mister Twister added a curly tail and extra action to their baits. By this time, everyone knew how good plastics were.

I caught my first 5-pound largemouth bass on a 6-inch grape Manns Jelly Worm and about a million gray trout (weakfish) from the Delaware Bay.

So they work. No doubt about that. Let’s talk about some of soft plastic lures available today and how to use them to catch fish.

Let me start by saying that the most popular types of lures are changing quickly. It wasn’t too long ago that I used the Tsunami swim baits for almost everything. They have a weight built in and they have a great action that makes them look like an easy target. They’re expensive and bluefish ruin them. For a number of years, I always had one tied on. I caught every kind of fish that can be targeted around here. For some reason the retailers stopped carrying them in big numbers, and they have fallen out of favor. I still have a few bags here and there but it’s tough to get more.

The more popular brands now are Z-Man, Gulp, and DOA — and that’s just a start. The number of new products coming out is astounding. Let’s talk in more general terms.

First let’s consider the kind you would attach to a lead-head jig. Many of these are designed to imitate baitfish. The Z-Man Shadz, and DOA CAL, are two of the most popular brands sold around here. They are quite realistic in both their looks and movement. They are attached with lead heads designed specifically for those baits to ensure a smooth look. There are split tails, twist tails, paddle tails, and something that somebody is making in their garage right now.

My suggestion is to pick one or two styles and stock up on those. Choose different colors based on the local conditions, and go with that. They all work, and instead of fixating on whatever brand is most popular, instead choose what works for you and move forward.

Make a cast, hopefully toward where a fish is lurking. Work it back like any jig.

“Twitch, reel. Twitch, reel.”

Strikes will feel like a tap. Snap set the hook – you don’t have to rip their lips off. I’ve caught 8-pound speckled trout, 6-pound southern flounder, 12-pound striped bass and a whole assortment of every single kind of fish that swims in these waters using soft plastic with a jig head.

Another style I like are the soft plastic shrimp made by the same companies. They are quite realistic and in some situations they are more effective than the living versions. Mainly it’s because you can use the same bait to catch multiple fish whereas a live bait is one and done.

Cast a plastic shrimp into a current run that drops off into deeper water. It might be only a matter of inches. Reel quickly enough to keep your line tight and add a touch of movement. That familiar “tick” means a fish.  Reel down quickly and come tight.

This technique is very effective for red drum and trout in winter holes.

Another good use for them is as a dropper rig when fishing from a pier for speckled trout. Probably the most common way is under a popping cork around oyster bars and on grass flats. Rig the lure about 2 feet deep below the cork. Then pop and reel. A fish will announce itself by pulling the cork under. The plastic shrimp is versatile.

Unweighted soft plastic jerk baits first made their appearance in the mid-’90s with the Slug-Go. In hand it looks innocuous; fish shaped, split tail, nothing special. But rig a weedless hook on it, toss it into the water, and it becomes something.

First of all, it sounds like a living thing when it plops in. Then it moves like a minnow that’s having an extremely bad day and attracts attention from predators. My favorite was the 6-inch size. I could cast it easily with whatever rod I was using and they smoked it.

Now all the aforementioned manufacturers have similar designs. Put them to use in shallow weeds, around oysters, flats. You can even add rattles to them. See what happens when you cast to a school of trout on the edge of a flat during summer.

If imitation is flattering, soft plastic lures are the extreme. As Dustin Hoffman’s character was told in “The Graduate,” “There’s a great future in plastics. Think about it.”

Coastal Review will not publish Monday in observance of Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

Editor’s Note: Tabb’s Trails is a commentary photo-essay series with coastal reporter, photographer and hiking enthusiast Kip Tabb.

Manteo Marshes on Roanoke Island is a confounding, confusing place to visit, not because it’s hard to find — although blink and the parking lot off the road to Wanchese is missed — but because there’s no telling what will be there on any given day.

It’s about a milelong, notably easy hike around the impoundment. Some days there’s mallards busily feeding on the submerged grasses and lesser yellowlegs wading in the shallows making quick jabs into the water.

And then there are days where you feel lucky to see a northern mockingbird, numerous year-round at Manteo Marshes. But it’s worth the trip because, on those lucky days, it can be spectacular.

In the winter, lesser yellowlegs are often numerous in the mudflats. Get too close to that occasional mallard, and the drake will make it clear he feels threatened. In the copse on the north end of the impoundment, there is a constant twitter of birds – mostly yellow-rumped warblers in the winter, although northern mockingbirds make a good showing as well.

It is buggy in the summer, so put on some insect repellant and check it out. Osprey are constantly flying by, the northern mockingbirds are still there and lots of robins and heron are visitors as well.

But, be patient and pay attention. The birds are there, and an occasional squirrel.

The total project area is 1,874 acres. Except for the impoundment trail, the area is impenetrable marsh.

Some winter weeds are wonderful.

Wait. Weed is wonderful?

Not that kind of weed!

W-E-E-D-S.

Everyone has a different idea of what constitutes a weed and what doesn’t. The definition of a weed is simply a plant growing where it’s not wanted. By that definition, a volunteer tomato popping up in your flowerbed is a weed. Not to me, but you get the idea.

There are people who love dandelions and clover — both winter weeds — and people who loathe them.

Weeds don’t care whether you like them or not. They happily go about their business, doing what weeds are designed to do. Their seeds blow or otherwise hitchhike about until they find the perfect patch of dirt.

Clover is a nitrogen fixative, so clover seeds travel around until they find a bare spot in need of nitrogen.

Using a symbiotic partnership with Rhizobium bacteria living in root nodules on the clover roots, the bacteria convert atmospheric nitrogen into forms usable by plants. When the clover fizzles in the heat of summer, the nitrogen becomes available to the grass and other surrounding plants.

Dandelions are one of the best plants on the planet for humans. My personal theory: The harder a weed is to kill, the more beneficial it is. In our quest for tidy, golf-course-perfect yards, we’ve forgotten what our ancestors knew. Can you believe people used to intentionally plant dandelion yards?

Besides being beloved by kids and bees, every part of the dandelion is edible and beneficial. One of the first plants to pop up in late winter-early spring, they are often one of the first sources of pollen for bees. Oftentimes, in our area, they bloom all winter.

Nowadays, with processed vitamins a dime a dozen, sourcing vitamins naturally isn’t as important as it used to be. Dandelions contain vitamins A, C, and K. They are also chock full of minerals like potassium, iron, and calcium. In addition, dandelions also contain potent antioxidants, not to mention beta-carotene and polyphenols.

It’s easy to see why our ancestors valued dandelions. After a long winter with little to no fresh produce available, their bodies were depleted of vitamins and minerals. Dandelions were free and easily sourced, their bright yellow blooms outing their location like flags.

While there are always weeds around, winter weeds differ from summer weeds. Not just because of the season they thrive in, but because while the summer weeds are fading, the winter weeds are growing and taking over, and vice versa.

Some of the weeds you will notice more this time of year are Florida betony (Stachys floridana), clover (Trifolium), annual bluegrass (Poa annua), blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium), salt or large-leaf pennywort (hydrocotyle bonariensis), and spurweed, or burr clover (Soliva sessilis).

Most of these are beneficial, or at least pretty to look at or good for the soil or for bees.

The roots of Florida betony — those round, segmented pods that look like white root-beer barrel candy — are edible. Think water chestnuts in Chinese food. It’s also where Florida betony gets one of its other nicknames, rattlesnake weed. Those roots are part of what makes Florida betony so hard to eradicate. Unless you grub out every single one …  like Arnold Schwarzenegger in “The Terminator,” it will be back. A member of the mint family, its distinctively aromatic leaves and seeds are also edible, usually consumed in teas.

Despite how despised it is, pennywort is like dandelions, extremely beneficial. And it’s edible. In places like Asia, pennywort is used in salads or as condiments, and is well known for its medicinal properties, similar to dandelions.

The only one of the above weeds that truly needs to be eradicated is spurweed, aka burr clover. Stickers. If you’ve been to any boat ramp or ballfield in coastal counties, you’ve probably gotten to know them, and maybe these nasty devils are in your yard.

Looking all cute and innocent, like flat dog fennels, these terrors are bright green right now. About the time you start going barefoot in the yard, their evil stickers abound. Looking like the ball-shaped business end of a miniature ancient flail weapon, the nasty stickers are the seeds.

Every time you move the boat, or mow the yard, or the dog runs around … every time those stickers get transferred to another spot because they were imbedded in a tire or the bottom of someone’s foot or shoe or paw, you’re seeding a new plant. Grrrr.

If you only notice a few, a fork works great for popping them out of the ground. Then you can put them in the burn pile and dance gleefully around their crisping bodies …

Oops. Got a bit carried away there. So, you can properly dispose of them. Otherwise, and I hate to recommend this, SPRAY! Do it NOW!

If you don’t dig them up or spray them, your whole yard will soon become a solid mat of these utterly obnoxious freeloaders. By the time you’re hopping and cussing as you’re picking stickers out of your foot, it’s too late. You will have inadvertently shared them with all your friends and neighbors.

While winter weeds, and weeds in general, give most of us a headache, they can be very beneficial. Besides being something green in a brown world, winter weeds help hold the soil in place. They feed critters such as rabbits and deer, and chickens if you have them. Even guinea pigs love fresh weeds.

If you possess the knowledge to utilize them, winter weeds are an inexpensive way to stretch your grocery budget, and to eat healthier. Not saying they always taste the greatest but bitter is better than nothing. Dandelion roots were often dried and roasted, along with chicory —which is becoming really hard to find around here — as a coffee substitute. Yaupon (Ilex vomitoria) contains caffeine and has been used for centuries as a tea and for medicinal purposes such as fever and digestive issues, although too much will make it live up to the vomitoria part of its name.

Just make sure your plant ID skills are up to par and that the weeds you’re getting ready to nosh on haven’t been sprayed.

Actively casting to visibly feeding fish is very exciting and often leads to days that will be become legendary. There are numerous ways to approach these situations that lead to ample opportunities for all the anglers who inevitably make an appearance.

Unfortunately, too many people either don’t know or don’t care about anything else but themselves and then proceed to mess it up for all concerned. Let’s figure this out so we don’t become one of “those” guys.

First, we have to recognize what a feeding school looks like. It can present many ways depending on location, depth, and species. If you don’t know what you’re seeing, you’re liable to roll right over them.

The most obvious species and one least likely to be spooked by boats and anglers is the bluefish. I’ve seen schools of bluefish spread out for acres with boats driving through them every which way, without much regard for … well … anything really. People were fishing and the fish were still biting all around.

A big school of bluefish up to around 5 pounds will remain pretty aggressive in almost any circumstance. When they get a little bit bigger, you have to be more careful about driving through them. Even then, they’ll probably not spook too badly, and if the bait is still around, they’ll feel compelled to strike.

Favored lures include almost any jig or spoon in a somewhat approximate size or color. They’ll probably take a whack. Make sure you have an appropriate bite leader or you wave goodbye.

False albacore and Spanish mackerel are less tolerant of sloppy driving. When approaching surface feeds of these, the angler must plan his approach to account for the direction of travel and the wind speed and direction. You must intercept in such a way as to not roll over them and still allow presentations to be made to the feeders.

You’ll see many mistakes being made by people who should know better, and often it can wreck the action for all. On a good day with all being cooperative and considerate, the good fishing can go for hours. Otherwise, it’s up and down with the ill-mannered butting in.

More realistic imitations must be used with albies and macks. Be aware of the size and color of the bait fish. Many times — not always — jigs that are too big or an inappropriate color will be ignored. A good starting point is an epoxy jig such as the Gun Slinger, approximately the size of a man’s ring finger, with an olive or other natural color. There are myriad other options. Try a soft plastic tail such as the Albie Snax with a jig head if things get tricky.

So far, we’ve talked about fish feeding in deep water near the surface. Everything changes in shallow waters. The shallower they go, the less tolerant they become of loud motors and erratic driving. The most extreme example of this is with schools of red drum feeding in water that may be better measured in inches rather than feet.

Most often these fish can be approached with an electric trolling motor. Even then, they can be put off if you get too close and they feel the vibration. Best to set it on low speed and go slowly. Even better is a push pole. This is the stealthiest option. When the water is less than a foot, this will be the only option.

Pay attention to the fish and where they are going and keep your boat a long cast away … did I mention the water is shallow? There’s plenty to get hung on. Through the years, when pursuing shallow redfish, I’ve had best success using D.O.A. plastic shrimp in any color that shows up in changing water clarity: bright colors in muddy water, muted colors in clearer water. Make as long a cast as possible and retrieve in a slow cadence with occasional twitches. They’ll get it, and it will be obvious.

The most difficult to approach are speckled trout. A lot of times, if you’re not aware of the potential of a school being nearby, people will drive right over them and never know what they missed. In certain places, during certain times of the year (I’ll leave it to you to figure out), speckled trout will gather in large schools. This provides great fishing for those who know.

Some places are well known to the point of fame – or infamy — while others remain more quiet. In either case, it’s a good idea to approach quietly and carefully. Again, long casts are best. Use small jigs, ¼ ounce usually. I’ve used the Zman Jerk Shadz for the past decade. Light tackle. Don’t be in too much of a hurry. Use the trolling motor on as slow a setting as you can move up current.

If you get bit, slip the anchor over the side. As long as you’re quiet the fish will hang around. At some point you may need to move up a bit and start over. Be light-footed and, for goodness sake, don’t drive through the spot someone is already on. The fish behind will still be there and will start biting again soon enough. The idea is to keep the action going for everyone for as long as possible. When folks work together it can happen.

That’s pretty much a good rule to use whenever we’re out there. Be polite to others we see. Be considerate of where others are fishing. Sometimes we have to go around.

Start early if you want to be first, and be fine with it if you’re not. I see too many people behaving poorly when big schools of fish are around. Take it easy and we’ll all have a more relaxed and productive day.

Dirt.

Such an innocuous word for such an important item.

Dirt is all around us. Under our feet. What we live on. What we build our houses and roads on. Dirt is just … there, something we don’t pay much attention to unless we’re cleaning up a mess somebody tracked in, or planting.

Topsoil, the thin top layer of soil that makes life on Earth possible, comes in many different forms. Clay, like up around Raleigh. Silt, which is what Newport River is full of. Sand, pretty self-explanatory. Loam is the good stuff you find in the woods where leaves and rotting tree trunks are left alone to enrich the soil as they return to it. Peat, which around here usually indicates acidic, swampy conditions.

Topsoil takes a long time to accumulate because it involves the breaking down of bigger particles into smaller particles. Think boulders in the mountains, with pieces continually breaking or wearing off. Smaller rocks get washed downstream, becoming smaller the farther they travel until at some point they end up as sand on the beach.

Like Jules Vern’s “Journey to the Center of the Earth,” there’s a whole nother world right beneath our feet.

This time of year when the grass goes dormant, you’re more prone to notice something tunneling in your yard. Various sorts of critters tunnel, some you can see and some you can’t. All kinds of things make up the critters in the soil. Microbes, too tiny to ever see with the naked eye. Funguses and bacterias and mycelium and … You get the picture.

Ant tunnels are like a path through the woods. Then the earthworm tunnels, looking like a one-lane dirt track. Mole crickets, a wider dirt road. Moles and voles are a two lane, while gophers are more of a four lane.

Ever seen that metal sculpture of a fire ant nest? The one where they poured liquid metal into the ant nest and then scraped all the dirt off once the metal cooled? Pretty neat, huh?

Earthworms’ tunneling is vital to soil health. By consuming a third of their bodyweight in dirt and organic material every day, they move nutrients and minerals from below the surface to the surface, via their waste. Poo. Worm castings.

Their feasting and tunneling also allows water and air to move up and down in the soil.

Earthworms (Oligochaeata) have five hearts, and as kids we were told if you accidentally broke a worm in half, voila: You’d get two worms.

This is not necessarily true, although some earthworms are like our little green lizards, or chameleons (Anolis carolinesis) in that their tail is easily detachable in order to enable them to escape easier.

Mole crickets, especially tawny mole crickets (Scapteriscus vicinus), have become a serious pest in recent years. In their voracious quest for food, consisting mainly of grass roots and shoots, their tunneling severs grass roots and results in large patches of spongy soil and dead grass. The weather staying warm longer in the fall encourages a longer breeding season with multiple hatches. Also, pole lights and streetlights attract mole crickets. While it’s fun for kids to poke a piece of pine straw or a stick into a hole and catch them, mole crickets are the No. 1 enemy of lawns and golf courses.

Moles and voles rate a whole other level of destruction. Eastern moles (Scalopus aquaticus) are dark gray, velvety soft, blind, have webbed feet, and no tail. They eat crickets and grubs, which is a great thing. Unfortunately, they mess up your yard with their tunnels. Crickets are annoying (can you imagine keeping one as a pet, as Japanese people do?) and grubs are beetle (think Japanese beetle) larva.

Southern pine voles, (Microtus pinetorum), on the other hand, look like hamsters. Golden brown, they have a short tail, are not blind, and do not have webbed feet. Unlike moles, voles will come above ground to scrounge for seeds and berries, and farther to the west of our state, can decimate orchards. They like to ring fruit trees and chew the bark off right at ground level.

Both moles and voles tunnel, oftentimes sharing the same tunnels. Both are nocturnal. So how do you tell which one is destroying your yard? Other than catching one, or being gifted one by your dog or cat, it’s hard to differentiate. Sometimes, if there is a dirt mound in your yard with an opening, it’s a vole. Southern pine voles tend to live around pine trees or pine stumps. While you can put out poisons to kill the crickets and grubs so the moles will move elsewhere, eradicating voles is another story.

Moles do good things, voles are a pain, and getting rid of both is hard. Can you imagine having gophers? Or armadillos?

Did you know armadillos have made it into North Carolina? Wonder how they’d be as a pet …

Humans don’t much enjoy the critters burrowing in our yards, but everything has to eat something. Earthworms eat dirt, birds and moles eat earthworms and insects, bigger predators nosh on birds and moles.

Some of us love to go barefoot and feel the textures beneath our feet, connecting us to the Earth and to our past. I can’t imagine it, but some people hate being barefoot. Going barefoot has a deeper purpose than tactile comfort. Humans may be able to absorb minute amounts of minerals and other vital nutrients through the soles of our feet.

Humans like to pretend that the ground is permanently fixed in place, even as much of the world’s topsoil is being lost to erosion because of building, mining or weather. Not “lost,” per se, just ending up somewhere else, because soil is a living entity, constantly evolving.

Coastal Review will not publish Jan. 1 in observance of New Year’s Day.

Chris Doley’s legacy at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is closely tied to his long and deeply influential partnerships with community-based organizations working on the frontlines of coastal restoration. Among those, his relationship with the North Carolina Coastal Federation stands out for its longevity and impact and for the role it played in advancing community-driven habitat restoration in North Carolina and beyond.

Chris became involved with the Coastal Federation’s work in the mid-1990s, during the formative years of NOAA’s Community-Based Habitat Restoration efforts. At that time, the Coastal Federation was in its second decade of work and was beginning to expand into fisheries habitat restoration as an emerging program area. The organization was advancing an idea that was still gaining traction nationally: that locally driven, science-based restoration — done with communities, not just for them — could deliver durable ecological results.

Chris was never just a grant manager. He became a trusted partner, sounding board, and advocate within NOAA — someone who understood both the realities of federal programs and the practical challenges of getting projects done on the ground. His willingness to listen, ask hard questions, and support promising ideas proved instrumental during a period when both NOAA’s restoration programs and the Federation’s habitat work were still taking shape.

With support provided through what would become NOAA’s Restoration Center, the Coastal Federation began to build one of the country’s more visible and respected nonprofit coastal restoration programs — rooted in applied science, community engagement, and practical outcomes.

Building a Restoration Agenda from the Ground Up

Working closely with Chris and NOAA’s habitat restoration staff, the Federation developed an increasingly integrated restoration approach — linking living shorelines, oyster reef restoration, salt marsh recovery, and water quality improvement into a more cohesive strategy. This systems-based framing was not yet common practice in the 1990s and early 2000s, when many restoration projects were relatively small, site-specific, and narrowly focused.

Chris encouraged partners to think beyond individual projects — at scale and to achieve significant ecological outcomes beyond individual project boundaries. Early NOAA support enabled the Federation to pilot some of North Carolina’s first living shoreline projects in the early 2000s, well before the practice was widely accepted or routinely permitted. These projects demonstrated that oyster reefs and marsh vegetation could stabilize shorelines, protect property, and improve habitat—often performing as well as or better than hardened shoreline structures, particularly during storm events.

The success of those projects didn’t just validate a new technique; it reshaped the Federation’s restoration agenda. Living shorelines became a core program area, and the lessons learned in North Carolina helped inform NOAA (and other federal agency) guidance, state permitting reforms, and restoration programs nationwide.

Oyster Reefs, Scale, and Staying Power

A similar trajectory emerged with oyster restoration. With Chris’s backing, the Coastal Federation undertook increasingly ambitious reef restoration efforts, including a major NOAA-supported initiative in 2009-2010, funded through the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act. That effort restored nearly 50 acres of oyster reefs and helped establish permanent oyster sanctuaries in Pamlico Sound, at the time among the larger oyster restoration efforts in the region.

More than a decade later, that long arc culminated in another milestone: the 2022 NOAA-supported investment to complete North Carolina’s 500-acre oyster sanctuary network. This project reflects decades of shared learning, trust, and persistence between NOAA and its partners.

Restore America’s Estuaries and Broader Influence

The Coastal Federation is a founding member of Restore America’s Estuaries (RAE), established in 1994 to connect community-based restoration organizations and share effective practices nationally. Chris supported NOAA’s engagement with RAE, recognizing that strong regional organizations could anchor a growing national restoration movement.

Through RAE and other collaborative forums, restoration approaches refined in North Carolina, such as community-driven project delivery, living shorelines, oyster sanctuaries, and volunteer engagement, were shared, adapted, and applied in other regions, helping advance restoration practice across the country.

Enduring Impact

From my perspective, what set Chris apart was his quiet confidence and deep respect for the people doing the work on the ground. I recall sitting with him in quiet corners of crowded conferences and workshops, where he would ask thoughtful, practical questions or offer observations about how our partnership was evolving. He simply wanted to understand, to learn, and to find ways to be an even better partner.

Chris Doley rarely sought the spotlight, but his influence is clear in the durability and credibility of NOAA’s community-based restoration programs and the projects they have supported. He created space for partners like the Coastal Federation to experiment, learn, and improve — while never losing sight of ecological outcomes and the public good.

As Chris retires after more than 35 years at NOAA, the North Carolina Coastal Federation — and countless partners across the country — continue to build on the foundation he helped establish. The restoration agenda he supported in North Carolina now informs broader policy discussions, restoration practice, and investment strategies nationwide.

Thank you, Chris, for believing early, backing consistently, and helping turn local action into lasting impact.

There are skills that are so ingrained and synonymous with the activity with which they are associated that we often don’t even notice them or think much about them, we just assume they are performed.

Dribbling a basketball. Breath-holding in swimming. Keeping the beat in music. Casting in fishing.

The best performers in these disciplines often do these skills so well, that they seem to occur without attention or any discernible effort whatsoever. But make no mistake, much practice had to be done to achieve that level of proficiency. We’re going to take a look at casting a spinning rod and then break down the skill to find out what separates the best from the rest.

I want to emphasize that I’m going to be talking about using a spinning rod, not revolving spool/baitcasting. The focus of most of our light-tackle fishing here is most appropriate for a spinning rod. Light rods and long casts are the order, most commonly. Even though bait-casters are popular in the Gulf Of Mexico for some reason, I just don’t feel they’re applicable with light lures or weekend anglers, and they create a lot of potential problems with tangles and backlashes.

Merriam-Webster defines casting (among other things) as the act of throwing out a fishing line. On the most basic level, this is what it is, and it seems simple. Most people can accomplish the basic skill after a couple of practical attempts. They feel the line on the finger and let it go. I’ve been showing kids how to do it my whole life, and that’s all it takes to get a bait in the water. However, if you want to do it well, which means delivering it distantly and accurately, you’ll need to do some work.

First let’s talk about stance. You should be balanced. You don’t have to be in a linebacker stance, but go for an even distribution of your weight. If casting with one hand, small rods and light weight, drive forward with your casting hand and follow through with your rod guides pointing forward. If it’s a rod with a longer handle, we’ll cast with two hands.

A common error I see is that people will release their rod with the top hand. Keep both hands on and drive forward with your top hand and then pull back with your bottom hand. This will allow maximum force to be applied.

There is a big difference between distance and accuracy in casting. Let’s start with getting longer and then move to becoming more accurate. Most people step up to the water’s edge and want to heave it way out there. There are techniques that enable us to get maximum distance.

Let’s start with a two-handed approach. This allows us to use all the force we can apply. Then we need to choose tackle that matches what we’re trying for. When making long casts with small lures we want to have a light, fast action rod with a flexible tip and use as light a line as you can get away with. With the newer braided lines, we can easily use line that is twice the breaking strength of the biggest fish we realistically hope to catch. This enables us to make longer casts because heavier line produces more friction which takes energy away from the lure.

Be careful about going too light or you’ll run the risk of applying too much energy, and a small timing error can snap the line and send it to the stratosphere without you. Let’s avoid that.

There is also heavy gear for long range. Now, we’re talking about thick rods, 10 to 12 feet long. Long popularized by the Hatteras Heaver style of rod design. Heavy weights. Big baits. Strong currents. Often the biggest versions will use revolving spool reels. This is big gear for big water.

Both styles will have a common denominator: Those who get the most distance will be the most proficient performers of the Pendulum Cast. It’s a method for using the full length of the rod to increase the linear velocity of the projectile.

Start with an even stance. Rock your weight back and forth over your shoulder on a lead almost as long as the rod. As you get better, more length on the pendulum will equal longer casts. Time the rocking up with a forward swing and step forward like throwing a football. This timing is what allows for long casts. With a little practice you’ll be zinging it out there.

Nick Meyer from Breakaway Tackle and nickaway.com shares a video on his YouTube channel that gives an excellent illustration of how to do it effectively. He also adds that, “The ability to long cast increases your effective fishable area. When bait fishing, trimming down your bait will make the rig aerodynamic and will increase your distance.”

For accurate casting, there are some adjustments to be made.

We’ll start again with a balanced stance. Keep the length of the overhang less than half the length of your rod or less. Just enough to keep the hooks from snagging. Whether using single- or double-handed technique, drive forward with the top hand and pull back with the lower. Keep your eyes focused on the target. A good way to practice is to pick targets like leaves or anything else floating around. That way when confronted with a tight situation, you’ll be prepared.

Remember, the more you practice in true-life situations, the better. My old biomechanics professor, Dr. William F. Straub, used to tell us, “You have to make practice game-like, if you want to win games.”

Now, picture this real-life scenario. We’re fishing a big, wide, open flat. The visibility isn’t great because it’s early in the morning and there’s no light. The fish could be anywhere in front of us. Being able to make long casts quickly is beneficial. Start out with using a long overhang and pendulum with a long casting lure such as a plug or a spoon (I always preferred topwater for this). Cover the water and be prepared for anything. Strikes can come at any time and be quite sudden. There’s nothing subtle about it.

Maybe after a while, and hopefully a few fish, you’ll spot a tailing fish back in the shallows. These will have their noses down and not be conducive to chasing anything. Most likely they are finding shrimp or crabs right in their face. Now we have to be accurate.

Hopefully you have a second rod rigged with an appropriate lure such as a soft plastic jerk bait or shrimp. You’re probably going to want it to be weedless. This is where the accurate cast is handy.

Shorten the overhang. Make sure you’re within range. Lock your eyes on a spot from 6 to 8 feet from the fish. Cast toward the end of the fish that actually does the eating. You won’t have many chances. If it all goes well, you’ll be watching one of the finest sights in angling as it snacks on your lure right in front of you.

Make no mistake, doing this well takes practice. “Drive for show, putt for dough,” is what the old golfers say. This is an 8-footer, downhill, for birdie, to win the tournament.

Coastal Review will not publish Jan. 1 in observance of New Year’s Day.

Fall, now in its final week, is such an explosion of colors, the sky is an immense azure bowl, the sun a brilliant yellow ball. Leaves attain shades and hues to gladden the heart and make artists salivate.

The low angle of the sun makes it seem to shine blindingly in your eyes no matter which way you’re facing. That same angle makes for some killer photo opportunities.

The opalescent quality of light in the fall, perhaps because of the short days and long nights, appears vastly different than it does during other seasons. Longer shadows accompanied by longer nights, while the sun seems to cling to the edge of the world and changes perspectives, alters our perceptions. It stays low enough here — it’s hard to imagine living somewhere the sun merely rolls along the horizon like a guttered bowling ball before sinking back out of sight — or doesn’t show at all. Bleh!

Late sunrises and early sunsets seem to be more spectacular, perhaps because the short days ensure we see more of them, and again, light. Maybe we just appreciate them more because they’re framed in such stark darkness. It’s crazy to me how much deeper and darker nights appear to be this time of year, when it seems like darkness should be the same dark year-round.

The immense forest fires and multiple volcanoes in various parts of the world this year have contributed to some glorious morning and evening colors due to lots of particulate matter in the air. This might mean we’re in for a colder-than-usual winter. If you’ve never read about it, check out “The Year Without a Summer.”

In our modern hustle-and-hurry world, fall is not the slowing-down time it used to be. That it’s meant to be. That our bodies and spirits crave.

Fall is designed to be … a good supper, sitting by the fireplace with a full belly and no pressing chores, perhaps with a good book or handiwork of some sort or other.

The arrival of fall is like the hour before bedtime: Things should be gradually winding down and everyone — and everything — should be relaxing and preparing to rest.

In times past, crops would have been harvested and stored, wood chopped and stacked, homes and animals secured, even if you lived somewhere without harsh winters.

Other than daily chores, or maybe a hog killing or oyster roast, the hard work of spring and summer was as much a memory as the backbreaking toil that got you to this point of well-deserved rest.

The advent of electricity — wonderful thing that it is  — has played a huge part in our not-slowing-down world. We’ve gotten so busy we’ve forgotten to listen to our bodies, to the seasons, and we bull on through instead of giving ourselves a break. Taking a breath, so to speak, before we launch into another spring and summer.

Heat and air conditioning — don’t get me wrong, I love them both — further our distance from the seasons. Climate control means we stay inside where it’s warm when it’s cold out and cool when it’s hot, protecting ourselves from weather. Nothing wrong with that, but humans are meant to be outside, to be in tune with the natural world around us. Many of us spend way too much of our time indoors, whether it’s at work, or taking care of our homes or whatever.

There is much joy to be discovered outside this time of year: Zero humidity and reasonable temps encourage us to get out more, despite the lessening of daylight hours.

Who doesn’t love crunching and scuffling through leaves? Miracles in themselves, leaves grow and store nutrients, then fall and blow around, providing overwintering resorts for insects and small critters. In their blowing around, they break down into smaller and smaller pieces, redistributing nutrients and enriching the soil, before they once more become soil, and eventually leaves again in a never-ending cycle celebrating life.

The rustling of the leaves in the trees or skittering across the ground adds to the delight. Ever seen a conglomeration of leaves en pointe swirling across the yard or down the road like a herd of indecisive lemmings? Seems like they deliberately stop and drop right in front of your steps, or better yet, your door like they’re just waiting for someone to open the door so they can scurry inside and spread the love.

The scent of woodsmoke in the air, the sound of migrating birds, the sight of migrating birds winging south across the sky all betoken a definite change. The Egypt birds (white ibis) strolling across lawns and pecking for grubs and such, are here and then gone. Insects, while never entirely absent, have vastly diminished in numbers. Little brown bats, so prevalent during summer twilights, with less food available, have gone wherever they go. Dragonflies, too.

Dogwoods and hollies and pyracantha are loaded with berries, some delights for us and some food for our feathered or furred friends. Various seeds drift or blow around, seeking a spot to hunker down until it’s time to sprout.

Fatter and sassier than ever, squirrels dash about in high gear, scurrying every which way toting pecans, acorns, hickory nuts and digging holes in every available patch of dirt they can find. Such a nuisance, but the cute little aggravating tree rats are doing what they’re supposed to. Not merely storing food for winter, but also planting future trees, because there’s no way they’ll remember even half the places they stashed their bounty.

Fallen leaves blanket the ground like a soft afghan draped across your favorite chair, or the way your favorite comforter cocoons you in your bed. Leaves serve pretty much the same purpose; keeping things warm and cozy.

The radiant colors will gradually fade to browns and tans, soon giving way to the grays of winter.

All the seasons have their reasons, and no matter which one is your favorite or why, rejoice in the changes and embrace the season you’re in right now.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues.

The news that the entire Atlantic Coast, including North Carolina waters, has been excluded from the latest offshore drilling Draft Proposed Program is a welcome moment of relief for coastal communities. This exclusion is a direct result of decades of tireless, bipartisan opposition from citizens, businesses, and elected officials who have sent a message to Washington, D.C.: Our coast is not a chip at the poker table.

But let’s be crystal clear: This is a temporary reprieve, not a permanent victory. Without permanent federal protection, the oil industry will be back in five years, threatening to gamble with our livelihood all over again.

The High-Stakes Bet: Tourism vs. Oil

Our state’s economy is not hypothetical; it’s a proven powerhouse built on clean sand and clear water. In 2024, North Carolina welcomed over 40 million visitors who poured a record-breaking $36.7 billion into our economy. According to Visit NC, a stunning 90% of coastal region overnight visitors came for leisure.

Our identity is our asset: towns like Kure Beach thrive because of our clear coastline and the East Coast’s oldest fishing pier — not the promise of an oil rig. Our economy is built on soft sand. It’s our livelihood. Why would we risk a proven, multi-billion-dollar industry for the volatile, dirty promise of oil?

The danger of offshore drilling is not an abstract fear—it’s a guaranteed threat to our future. To argue that a disaster like the 2010 Deepwater Horizon explosion could not happen here is to ignore reality: the U.S. saw nearly 6,000 spills between 2010-2020. Our waters are ruled by powerful, north-flowing Gulf Stream and lie directly in the path of severe hurricanes and tropical storms. A spill would not be contained; it would rapidly devastate beaches, estuaries, and wetlands along the entire North Carolina coastline.

Even without a spill, industrial infrastructure and ugly rigs drive away tourists. Studies of the Gulf Coast have shown that counties with drilling infrastructure suffer a significant reduction in tourism revenue compared to non-drilling coastal areas. The promise of oil riches is a hollow one when the immediate cost is the destruction of our established, high-value tourism market.

United Opposition

Let’s be clear: this isn’t a political debate; it’s an enduring, bipartisan call for common economic sense. Earlier this year, both North Carolina Gov. Josh Stein, a Democrat, and South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster, a Republican, issued a joint letter opposing the expansion of offshore oil and gas leasing, proving this threat unites governors across state and party lines.

This mandate flows directly from the coast itself. Kure Beach became ground zero of the opposition movement in 2014, and we have passed two resolutions opposing offshore drilling, the most recent of which passed in June 2025. We have since been joined by a chorus of over 40 North Carolina governments, all of whom have passed similar resolutions over the years.

Crucially, the business leaders who power our coastal economy — like NC Catch, the Outer Banks Association of REALTORS, and the Carteret County Chamber of Commerce — all understand a simple truth: clean beaches are their primary asset, and drilling is the greatest threat to their bottom line.

The Path Forward: Codify Protection

The people of the North Carolina coast have bought us time. We cannot afford to be complacent. The exclusion from this proposed program is merely a pause button, not a definitive “game over” for the oil industry.

I urge every reader: Contact your federal representatives. Demand that they move beyond the Draft Proposed Program and actively work to pass the COAST Anti-Drilling Act (S.1486, H.R.2881), that permanently withdraws the Atlantic from all future offshore oil and gas leasing.

Do not let Washington, D.C., gamble away North Carolina’s future again in the next five-year cycle.

We won the battle, but the war for our beaches rages on.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Most often, when we talk about fishing, it’s the physical aspects we are concerned with: how to catch, what to catch, etcetera? But what about the metaphysical? The Why.

The Why is at least as important and, in many aspects, quite a bit more. The Why is what gets us going when the 4 a.m. alarm rings, or weather decides to be uncooperative. If the Why is not strong, the What will not even be a concern.

There are as many reasons why people fish as there are fish. They are varied and interesting. Every person has a different reason, and all are valid, ranging from simple escapism to the most complex mindset. It’s important to so many. Let’s take a little journey to the hearts of some extraordinary individuals.

In communications with anglers across the country in a variety of disciplines we will find certain differences and similarities.

Escape

Tim Brooks of Syracuse, New York, was a hard-hitting college linebacker who is now a leading member in his community. He is an accomplished lake-run rainbow trout fisherman. Those fish, commonly known as Great Lakes steelhead, are a mystery to unlock that provides exciting times during drab winter seasons.

Tim says he mainly fishes, “so he won’t become homicidal.” Now that’s a joke, of course, but the kernel of truth here is the getaway from the events of the day. It’s similar to what Paul Gilbert of Wilmington says.

As well as being a state champion lacrosse coach, Gilbert teaches middle school social studies, and he says he loves to fish because, “There are no eighth graders there.”

He loves his students as they do him, but we all need the separation.

Another good category is where all the world’s cares melt away.

Steve Feinberg has been retired for a few years now from his career as a highly successful advertising executive in New York, and he and I used to fish together often. He talks about how, “Fishing takes him to beautiful places and the world contracts to whatever is on the end of his line.”

Focus

Rob Snowhite is well known podcaster who produces “The Fly Fishing Consultant” podcast.

“Fishing is the one thing I can do where it’s the only thing I’m thinking about,” says Snowhite.

Interestingly enough, Norman Maclean writes in “A River Runs Through It and Other Stories,” “That the best part about fly fishing is that soon the world contracts to thoughts of nothing but fly fishing.”

Understanding

There are those who take a more deeply philosophical angle. One is Capt. Joe Demalderis, who owns a fly shop, outfitting service, and is generally considered to be the guru of the fly fishing community of the Upper Delaware River on the New York-Pennsylvania border. He says that the fish understand him better than he understands himself.

“When I’m lost in my thoughts on the water it’s nice to know that something gets you,” says Demalderis.

Kesley Gallagher is one of the leading female voices in the world of fly fishing. She says she loves fishing because it feeds her soul.

“I love the way the fish reflect the beauty of the area,” says Gallagher. “Like a trout reflects the light of the mountains and a marlin encapsulates the sapphire depths of the ocean.”

These are the kind of rhapsodic experiences we need in our lives.

Chris Desosa is a freshman at North Carolina State University. He’s a leader amongst his peers in athletic and academic pursuits and sure to be an amazing teacher, coach and educational administrator someday when he graduates from being in the education fellow scholar program.

“I fish because it brings me closer to the outdoors with the creations and the beauty of life,” says Desosa. “Being on the waves in a boat, or standing in a creek surrounded by nature, is more calming than any pastime I know. There is nothing like it.”

The challenge

Another category we need to explore is that of the people who do it for the challenge. These are the ones who put a lot of effort into preparing tackle and pay attention to the fine detail. David Edens is a longtime fly-fishing guide on Georgia’s coast. He loves saltwater fly fishing because he loves the hunt and the challenge, “… and being able to do something well that most others cannot.”

Brian S. Leon (Scott to his friends), is an incredibly accomplished angler, former Navy SEAL, author, and former editor of Fly Fishing in Saltwaters magazine, as well as being about as handsome as a TV star and married to Kesley Gallagher. He likes, “the journey to find fish and the people he meets along the way and embraces the intellectual challenge it brings.”

‘Democracy of life’

It may seem that I’m dropping a few names here to show how many different cool people I know (OK, I am) but the real point is that we meet a lot of extraordinary folks on the water.

Regardless of what we think of him as a president, Herbert Hoover himself said, “Fishing is a constant reminder of the democracy of life.” He was absolutely correct. I’ve been fishing with some quite famous people and a whole lot more who aren’t, including people who had little in the way of material things but did not measure life or success in the same way.

I’d say that the only nonvalid reason to like fishing is to prove that you are better than someone else.

Personally, I take the thinking of fishing writer Robert Traver, a federal judge whose real name was Robert Voelker and has a fly fishing writers award named after him. He was of the opinion that the reason he liked fishing so much was, “Because all the rest of the cares of the world mean so little.”

Now, I am locked in a situation where I can’t participate in the best pastime due to medical issues. Hopefully I can continue to contribute in any small way going forward. If I were to let the rest of my cares weigh me down, it would be quite a challenge indeed.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues.

“They swam all the way to Ocracoke?”

I suppose I should not have been so incredulous upon learning that National Park Service employees were having to track down rogue coyotes on Ocracoke Island. During my time conducting surveys of colonial waterbirds across the North Carolina coast, the impacts of coyote predation on young chicks was impossible to not take seriously. Their presence posed a constant challenge for federal, state, and municipal authorities. It’s not only birds that are affected; coyotes, with their acute sense of smell, pose a serious threat to sea turtle nests as well.

Invasive species often pose a serious challenge for ecosystems that have not evolved alongside them, and the havoc they wreak often vastly outstrips the pace at which the environment can adapt to their presence. While we have come to think of coyotes as a part of our everyday lives here in the eastern U.S., they are actually only native to the Southwest.

As wolves were killed en masse and driven out of the eastern U.S., coyotes migrated eastward to fill in the ecological role that was left wide open. As they did so, they picked up genes from the retreating wolves along their way. Now native red wolves are restricted to the Albemarle peninsula of North Carolina, a remnant of a once-dominant population that would have kept the coyotes from ever reaching the barrier islands simply by virtue of their presence.

While red wolves and coyotes are somewhat similar in appearance, coyotes are solitary mesopredators (mid-level carnivores that are still threatened by apex predators) that are characteristically opportunistic when it comes to food sources such as sea turtle eggs. Red wolves on the other hand are cooperative pack hunters that go for much larger game than coyotes, and will drive coyotes away or attack them under normal ecological conditions.

I bring the expansion of coyotes up as one example of how North Carolina’s barrier islands have changed since the onset of European colonization in the 16th century. The changes have been numerous, catastrophic, profound, and formative all at the same time.

One of these changes are the wild horses that roam these dunes, in locations ranging from Corolla to Beaufort. I have enjoyed many meals from childhood to present dining on the Beaufort waterfront, looking across the narrow intracoastal waterway to find horses grazing on the Rachel Carson Reserve. For locals, they are a sight as ubiquitous as spotting dolphins in the waterway. Entire businesses and marketing promotions of the area have fixated on these horses as a unique part of the area’s culture and appeal.

I am presently a researcher with North Carolina State University studying the crystal skipper. The crystal skipper is a butterfly species only found on a 30-mile stretch of the North Carolina Crystal Coast from Bear Island to the Rachel Carson Reserve.

The Rachel Carson Reserve just so happens to be a location with resident horses, making it the only place where horse and skipper populations interact.

People frequently come to the Rachel Carson Reserve to hike or relax on the beach, whether they come by way of ferry or their own watercraft. As my coworkers and I work in our highlighter-yellow vests, visitors are frequently drawn to us with inquiries about where they can spot the horses. Their assumptions aren’t wrong, I have been coming here for years at this point and I can direct them where to go to have a good chance of seeing them. They are often surprised, however, to find us unenthusiastic about the horses when we are directly asked about them.

We usually address the visitors on the Rachel Carson Reserve surrounded by centipede grass, the only grass that remains after the horses have eaten their fill. Seaside little bluestem, the sole grass species the crystal skipper lays their eggs on and eats as a caterpillar, is nowhere to be found in the areas the horses frequent. It’s heart-wrenching to watch the horses stride into the one small section of the Rachel Carson Reserve that still contains a viable crystal skipper population, consuming who knows how many eggs and caterpillars as they satiate their hunger on seaside little bluestem. In a sharp contrast to the horses, the crystal skipper is not only from here, it is only found here.

Who are these horses for? For tourists?

I doubt the desire to see the horses would increase as people grow in their knowledge about the horses’ condition. When I am asked about how healthy the horses are here, I feel as though I am lying by omission if I don’t tell the truth as I see it.

For tourism boards?

North Carolina’s coast is replete with breathtaking sites and awe-inspiring nature, I doubt horses in particular are needed to promote the area.

For a rare and imperiled butterfly species found nowhere else on Earth?

Certainly not for them.

One could easily ask who the crystal skipper is for, to which I would reply that it is for the very island ecosystems that created it in the first place, whose selective pressures picked the genes that gave rise to its very body plan. Secondarily, the crystal skipper is for the people who live and visit here who are able to appreciate its beauty and intrinsic link to the land.

For all the problems I have highlighted here, I do believe that there is a solution to this problem that addresses the concerns of all involved. To anchor this solution in how I began the article, I once again want to return to the subject of Ocracoke.

Horses remain on the island but have been corralled into a pony pen, easily accessible to anybody visiting the island. These horses are given a proper diet, bereft of the hardy and sandy grasses that stitch the island together against the advances of the wind and waves. This keeps the island’s ecology and structure intact, enables visitors and residents alike to see this part of Ocracoke’s history, and keeps the horses protected from careless visitors.

It would be impertinent and wrong of me to dismiss the cultural and tourist value that the horses provide simply because I am approaching the topic as a conservationist. That said, if you are able to get a close look, the horses’ taught skin stretched over their hips and ribs represents a sharp contrast to the horses that folks are generally used to seeing.

If folks are going to come to see the Crystal Coast, I want them to see the best of the Crystal Coast, where we steward our ecological resources well and care for the animals in our charge.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Someone fishing in saltwater should understand tides. More importantly they should understand how tides affect the fish they are pursuing.

It’s a common story: A person heads down to the water and drives out to a spot somewhere that they were told about. They get there and fish are jumping all over and eating everything they throw at them.

Next weekend comes and they head right back to the same spot. Except this time the tide is so low they run aground three times before they arrive. When they finally get there, the water is all gone, the bottom is exposed, and there’s no fish anywhere. What changed? The tide.

Let’s take a look at a typical fall day by my home near the Newport River and Morehead City. First thing we notice is that I use a tide-predicting app from Hahn Software called Aye Tides. It’s a part of the very first tide software called X Tides. Since the product was developed in 1995, it’s become as close to the industry standard as there is. It was based on an early computer model originally developed in the 1930s.

Now take a look at the numbers and see what they mean. First you will see a time and number with a decimal and a unit of measurement. The time shows what time the tide will occur and the number represents the relative height. In our case, the first high tide will occur at 12:51 a.m. Since we are not going fishing until after dawn this is not that important to us now.

The first low tide is at 7:04 a.m. Our plan is to fish the channels in the Newport for speckled trout. The best is on the rising tide with the influx of clean water. Pete Allred, formerly the owner of Pete’s Tackle for many years, used to say that often the bite would shut off, “like a switch” when the tide turned.

We want to get out there early. This is tricky. If you’re experienced and know the channels, you can get back there early and be the first one there. This often leads to some fast action. Once the water gets high enough to allow more access, others may join you, including some who may not be very considerate.

I have a certain young man in mind who I’ve had numerous run-ins with over the years, who would run full-speed through where I was fishing — literally so close he would swamp my small skiff. We’ve had words and he knows who he is.

But if people are considerate, the action will continue through the incoming tide, and assuming that people know what they’re doing, there should be enough to go around.

The second high tide is at 1:25 p.m. Let’s also take a look at the height. This is the average depth of the water as measured at the time of high tide. Notice that the number is 4.01 feet. This is quite a high number for our area. If we look at the moon phases as indicated by the icons, we can see that there was a full moon last night. The full moon in October will have some of the highest tides of the year. Often called “king tides” by the Weather Channel people and some scientists, there will often be swamped roads in the really low elevation areas.

This extremely high water leads to a couple different things for us to look at as anglers. Red drum will be as far back in there as you can see water. The fishing is not easy and takes some skill, but is extremely rewarding (and will be the subject of an entire separate article). Another thing to be aware of is very fast current, which can create fast action on the rise, as we have already seen with the trout, and flounder will often be quite aggressive around bars and points. Very large fish will be caught.

This is the important thing to remember: The large amount of movement around the very high tides will get fish activity to peak. But if you are not aware of the timing, you can miss the whole thing.

This cycle of two high tides and two low tides per day is called semidiurnal. Two tides per day. It’s Latin or some other thing. Some places will only have one per day. These are called diurnal.

Another thing that can really affect your fishing is something called negative low tides. This will be indicated in your app by a minus sign next to the height of the tide at low tide. This happens often in winter. It can be a hazard to navigate because areas that are usually underwater could be dry.

Now let’s return to the day we started with. As the tide starts to go out, it is usually a good idea to head toward the inlet. As the water recedes, it will encourage fish to begin feeding on baitfish that get moved out of the marsh and we will often see nice activity on surface feeding bluefish, mackerel and false albacore, as well as sea mullet and gray trout, while bouncing bottom.

This is one of the best places to start fishing for any species in any place. If you don’t know anything else, fish inlets on outgoing tides. Sometimes the end of the ebb will see the fiercest action. Then it will kind of peter out.

As always, this was just an example of how to approach a specific situation. Remember that being aware of the tides gets you to the fish. “Time, (fish) and tide wait for no man.”

Most of us know that bees and wasps are pollinators, but what else pollinates flowers and various plants? Sadly, no honey is involved, but no sting, either.

It’s butterflies!

Who doesn’t love butterflies?

Delicate looking as they flutter by, ephemeral, like catching a glimpse of fairies out of the corner of your eye.

Butterflies come in all shapes and sizes and colors. The colors are mostly due to pigments in their scales.

What? No, fish have scales.

Not that kind of scales.

Lepidoptera, the scientific name for butterflies and moths, means scaly wings. Scales on butterfly wings are microscopic and laid down like shingles on a roof. There can be upward of 600 scales per square millimeter. The shape of the scales varies, everything from teardrops and rectangles to more ribbon-like shapes. Scales on different parts of the wing can even be different shapes, such as hair-like or even duck-footed.

If you’ve ever touched a butterfly’s wing — hopefully not a live one — you know that the scales shed off like glittery pixie dust, which is why we’ve been told since we were little children not to touch a butterfly’s wings.

While losing scales impedes a butterfly’s ability to fly and shortens its lifespan, it can be a lifesaver should a butterfly get caught in a spider’s web. The scales will stick to the web, allowing the butterfly to escape, the way a toddler can peel out of your hold on their jacket and scamper off.

Scales aren’t just colorful to make us happy, although they certainly do for many. Butterfly scales serve numerous purposes.

They aid in flight, affecting airflow and reducing drag. Scales can help camouflage a butterfly in order to better hide from predators. The color pattern of the scales can help butterflies communicate or find mates. Some butterfly wing patterns even mimic poisonous kin, the better to fool predators into leaving them alone.

For instance, monarchs, Danaus plexippus, the famous orange-and-black butterflies, are brightly colored to warn predators of their toxicity, or aposematism. In other words, they taste awful. Monarchs can also be toxic to invertebrates.

In a ploy called Müllerian mimicry, viceroys, Limenitis archippus, mimic the coloring of monarchs in a bid to avoid being eaten. Bright colors such as reds and oranges often signal danger, and mimicking the color pattern of something known to be poisonous gives both species a better survival rate.

Some butterflies have spots that look like giant eyes to warn predators, and some use camouflage to better blend in with their surroundings.

Made of chitin, like an insect’s or a crustacean’s carapace, the tough yet flexible scales have ridges and pockets that contribute to aerodynamics. Once lost, scales will not regrow and cannot be replaced. Each scale — actually a modified hair — is attached via a stalk, or pedicel, that fits into a small socket.

Butterflies are cold-blooded, so the color of their scales can also help them regulate body temperature. For instance, the dark bands or whorls on some butterflies can help warm them up by absorbing more sunlight.

They don’t collect pollen in the way bees do, so butterflies are not as efficient as pollinators, but some wildflowers can’t survive without them.

So what kind of plants do butterflies like? Butterflies are drawn to bright colors such as pinks, oranges, reds and yellows. Zinnias are always a favorite, as is butterfly bush, coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, bee balm, asters, and coreopsis.

Zinnias are the workhorse of the garden. They’re easy to care for, will grow just about anywhere, like heat and drought, make great cut flowers for bouquets, and they come in a range of vivid colors. Alas, they are annuals, so they have to be planted every spring.

Butterfly bush, Buddleia, is known for its sweet scent and being a butterfly magnet. If you’re worried about it being invasive, as it can be in some areas, native alternatives — summersweet (Clethra alnifolia), Virginia sweetspire (Itea virginica), and buttonbush (Cephalanthis occidentalis) — can be planted instead.

Purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea) is an old staple, and it’s perennial. Same with black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) and bee balm (Monarda). Asters and coreopsis, both of which have many native varieties.

Keep in mind, annuals have a longer bloom time but have to be planted every year — annually.

Perennials — longer word equals longer lifespan — come back every year but have a limited bloom time. Plant a good mix of both in order to keep your flowerbeds, yourself and your pollinators happy.

Watch the roadsides and any weedy lots to see what most attracts butterflies. That will give you a better idea what you need to plant in your garden, and it also depends on what kind of butterfly you’re hoping to attract.

As much as we love butterflies, many of us are not so happy with their offspring. Those nasty little cabbage loopers that destroy our collards and broccoli, for instance.

Butterflies need nectar plants, but they also need host plants for their caterpillars. Monarchs are all about milkweed (Asclepias). Several varieties grow naturally here. Dill, parsley, and fennel are great for eastern black swallowtails (Papilio polyxenes). In fact, if you don’t watch carefully, swallowtails will strip your dill and parsley practically overnight. They love anything in the carrot family, so Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota), which grows wild here, is also on their menu.

Gulf fritillaries love passion vine (Passiflora incarnata). Make sure you get the native one and not one of the hybrids, the take-over-your-world kind. Gulf caterpillars look like something from a Halloween nightmare, virulent red with black stripes and black spikes – and totally harmless.

Caterpillars may freak out some of you, and they can be destructive and yucky but birds eat caterpillars, and birds and wasps feed them to their young.

Long story, short: It’s impossible to have beautiful butterflies — and moths — without first having destructive caterpillars.

Everything has to eat something.

So, if you’d love to see more butterflies, plant pollinator gardens and leave natural areas unmowed.

Guest Commentary To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues.

This fall has been one of the wettest in my memory — and yet, we haven’t had much significant rainfall, or a single hurricane or tropical storm make landfall. Still, the water lingers.

King tides have been washing over docks, creeping across yards, and flooding roads that once stayed dry except in the worst storms. For those of us living Down East in Carteret County, it’s a clear sign that something deeper is changing.

I’ve lived in Atlantic for six decades. I’ve never seen the roads hold water like this. The fields don’t dry out anymore. The ditches stay full — they just don’t drain.

When ditches stop working

For generations, Down East communities-built ditches moved water off the land and into nearby creeks or sounds. Those systems were based on one simple principle: gravity. Water flows downhill, and as long as the outlet of a ditch was lower than the land it drained — and the tide stayed low enough — water could flow freely.

But that balance has been shifting. The “hydrologic head,” or the difference in elevation that drives water to move from land to sea, has been shrinking as sea level rises. When the sea surface and ditch outlet are nearly the same height, there’s no longer enough downward pressure to push the water out. Even small rises in tide height or groundwater level can stop drainage altogether.

Today, many ditches are effectively at or just above mean high tide. That means during normal tides, water from the creeks seeps inland through the ditches, instead of the other way around. Even when a ditch still looks dry at low tide, the groundwater beneath it is now closer to the surface, leaving the soil perpetually saturated. Digging the ditch deeper doesn’t help — it only invites more saltwater in and raises the groundwater table even higher.

In short, the plumbing that once kept the land dry is backing up.

Ghost forests: symptom of a deeper change

Drive Down East in Carteret County, and the change is plain to see. Along North River, Core Sound, and the backroads of Cedar Island and Atlantic, stands of gray, lifeless trees rise like skeletons from the marsh — the ghost forests of a drowning coast.

Where there were once loblolly pines, red maples, and black gums, saltwater now seeps through the soil, killing the trees from the roots up. These ghost forests are not isolated patches — they are expanding corridors of dead timber that trace the slow inland march of the tides. They are, quite literally, the frontline of sea level rise.

The loss of these forests shows that this isn’t just a surface flooding problem. It’s the entire groundwater system responding to rising seas — a shift in the coastal hydrology that’s transforming once-productive working lands into wetlands and marsh.

What the future holds

If sea level continues to rise at its current pace — or faster, as most scientists expect — the next two or three decades will bring dramatic change to Down East Carteret County.

• Farming will become progressively more difficult, as fields stay too wet or too salty for crops or equipment.
• Roads will flood more often and for longer periods, isolating communities during high tides.
• Septic systems will fail, as the groundwater table rises to meet the drainfields.
• Homes and businesses built on low ground will face chronic flooding, declining property values, and higher insurance costs.

And yet, all this is happening without a single hurricane this year. The water is simply no longer leaving.

Working with water, not against it

The North Carolina Coastal Federation and many partners are working to restore natural hydrology on thousands of acres of previously ditched farmland and forestland. By filling or plugging ditches and re-establishing wetland systems, these projects allow the land to store and slowly release water — the way nature intended.

Restored wetlands act like natural sponges and filters, reducing flooding, improving water quality, and providing habitat for fish and wildlife. More importantly, they show that living with water is possible — but only if we plan for it, rather than trying to drain it away.

Facing reality

The ghost forests now lining our creeks are not just dying trees; they’re a warning. They tell us that the old ways of managing water — cutting deeper ditches, pumping harder, pushing it away — will not work in a world where the sea itself is rising.

Down East has always lived close to the water and thrived because of it. But if we want our communities to endure, we’ll need to give the land room to breathe again — to let it hold water where it must and adapt to what’s coming.

Because the water isn’t waiting.

The North Carolina Coastal Federation publishes Coastal Review.

I’m now in my 60th year of life. I started fishing before I was even old enough to have a memory of it.

I’ve been fly fishing since I was 10 years old. The math is pretty easy. During that time I’ve lived in North Carolina for 30 of those years, again, easy math. However, it never fails that since I’ve been here, people will say to me, “Flyfishing? Where do you do that ’round these parts?”

Inevitably it leads to awkward conversation and ends up with me trying to explain something that is not easily explained.

First off, all I’ll say, and trying to not sound braggadocious here, but I have caught 71 different species of fish with a fly and fly rod. I’m talking about the smallest thing you can think of up to and including the biggest things a person can catch in sight of land.

In this age you can fish anywhere you dream of, with the only limit being your pockets. I once knew a man in Beaufort who only fished in Montana, and I’ve fished with guys from Raleigh who only fished saltwater. Having said that, let’s talk only about the fish that are readily available along our coastal waters and within 30 minutes of my home in Carteret County. It’s quite a lot as you’ll see.

We’ll start close in and work our way out. There is a book that gives in-depth attention to this very subject called “Fly Fishing the Southeast Coast: A Complete Guide to Fishing Fresh and Salt Water,” if you’re inclined. For the sake of this article, I am going to assume a level of casting competency.

A type of fishing that gets overlooked by fly anglers around here is freshwater bass fishing in ponds. I covered this topic previously, but it’s worth looking at again as a strictly fly opportunity.

The No. 1 concern is access. But if anyone you know has a residential, golf course, any kind of freshwater body, it will have bass in it. The best time is a nice sunset and the best fishing is with a small popper.

Walk the shoreline, cast in an arc and be sure to negotiate any little pockets. It’s a bunch of fun, and while most bass you catch around here will be smaller due to the acid content of the soil, big ones also lurk.

If there is one fish that is readily available to fly fishing regardless of skill and access, I would say it’s the bluefish. They are aggressive, and almost any place that has access to the water will see bluefish coming in and out.

What I’m going to do is lay out a very specific plan to catch a bluefish on a fly from shore. First off, put a 250-grain sink line on your spare fly reel (you have a spare, right?), an 8-weight rod.

Get a stripping basket. Otherwise, you’ll spend more time untangling your line than anything else. Tie a piece of 30-pound fluorocarbon leader material to the end of your fly leader. Attach a Clouser Minnow fly in size 2 tied in chartreuse over white.

Drive to Fort Macon State Park about two hours into the falling tide. Fish on the southwest corner. You won’t need waders until late October. Cast into the current, which should be flowing from your left to right. Retrieve with an erratic action.

I don’t believe that you haven’t caught one already. But seriously, if all is as it should be, they should be there as often as not, and this will get them. Not normally big, but be ready. As a bonus this is also the best way to get a Spanish mackerel from shore, as well. If glass minnows are present, be prepared for anything.

I have not found the open surf to very amenable to fly fishing here for a lot of reasons. Believe me, I’ve tried. That’s not to say it can never be done, but it’s just more work than it’s worth for me. But keep your eyes open for calm days and close fish.

Lights under docks are another great opportunity for the fly angler. As you cruise down the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, from time to time you will see lights off the ends of docks. If a light points into the water, it’s worth looking at for fishing opportunities. This is classic night fishing. I’m talking not even heading toward the water until 9 p.m.

The fish we are talking about will vary. Speckled trout are always the preferred targets, particularly some really big ones. In fact, if catching a trout over 5 pounds on fly is one of your goals, this would be the way to go. However, some other guests may be interested.

Toward the Neuse River there may be big striped bass, I’ve caught them up to 10 pounds. As you go south toward the Cape Fear, more ladyfish will be available. Red drum will always be around. If you hit on a school of bigger fish, be prepared to bust fly rods and lose fly lines. A school of 30-inchers cleaned us out a few years back.

The same small Clouser Minnow works wonders. Stick with the 8-weight and a 20-pound tippet helps get away from pilings. Position your boat with the anchor almost as far as your longest cast. If you get to close, you’ll mess it up.

Be quiet too. I’ve had homeowners turn off the lights. Uncool.

Cast a little upstream. Strikes will be quick and often show as big boils under the surface. If you can see the fish popping under the lights, that’s a good sign.

Enjoy the moon, and the view of the planets can be spectacular. The sounds that emanate from the water come vibrating through your hull. Often, dolphins will swim through. It’s a great way to fish, and while sometimes things just aren’t happening, it’s as good a way to spend an evening as I can imagine, and a surefire way to catch fish on fly around these parts.

I have not even mentioned the world-famous false albacore run in the fall or the extremely popular tailing redfish action around the full moons. There is plenty of literature about those, some of it written by yours truly, even in these very pages. There’s plenty to do.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues.

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers is currently working on an Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) for the Port of Wilmington’s plan to deepen the Cape Fear River, with the stated goal of accommodating larger cargo ships. As a retired Corps of Engineers senior project engineer, I feel it’s crucial to raise some serious concerns about this initiative.

The North Carolina State Ports Authority has significantly overlooked other viable alternatives, besides incremental deepening, and failed to assess the extensive infrastructure damage that increased freight traffic could inflict on our roads and bridges. This is particularly evident in major new projects like the replacement of the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge and Wilmington’s Rail Realignment Project. Both are billion-dollar investments intended to accommodate the large volume of new truck and rail freight movement. One only need to look at the definition of the secondary effects as defined by the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA). These secondary effects clearly relate to the need to expand the port’s freight-handling capacity.

Deepening the river will only worsen flooding, affecting areas around the downtown Wilmington waterfront and the historically significant North Carolina Battleship site. It will also lead to a substantial loss of vital wetlands and floodplains due to increasing saltwater intrusion, a value the Ports Authority conveniently understates in its Section 203 report required under the Clean Water Act.

From 1980 to 2017, DuPont, and now Chemours, released vast quantities of hazardous PFAS compounds, polluting nearly 100 miles of the Cape Fear River, including the proposed dredging prisms defined in the port’s set of alternatives. This legacy of contamination must be a central part of the EIS evaluation, as it directly challenges the claimed benefits of the project. Additionally, the reverse osmosis water treatment plant in Brunswick County, which aims to remove PFAS from drinking water, will release highly concentrated PFAS-contaminated wastewater 3 miles upstream of the port. This will further complicate the environmental challenges posed by the proposed dredging project, as well as future dredging operations and maintenance requirements, which once again go unaddressed in the port’s Section 203 report.

Why is this a critical oversight? PFAS clings to or settles into fine sediments like silt and clay found in the soil in and around the dredge-soil prism proposed to be dredged. It’s only logical that when these contaminated sediments are dredged, a safe disposal management plan would be an essential requirement for both federal and state regulators. When PFAS is detected in the dredged sediment, our regulators need to determine whether the material is suitable for placement or disposal, especially regarding upland sites or beach renourishment projects.

The Corps’ “Beneficial Use” strategy aims to repurpose the dredged material as a resource. However, this faces significant hurdles within the scope of this proposed project, as regulators decide how to prevent PFAS from being released back into the environment. The Eagles Island disposal area, which predates NEPA and was built on a previously healthy wetland and floodplain, is not an appropriate site for disposing of contaminated dredged soil because it lacks a liner. Furthermore, researchers in North Carolina and across the globe continue to investigate the damage that PFAS is causing to aquatic ecosystems as it transfers from sediment back into the water column during dredging and placement operations.

Without the Corps thoroughly addressing PFAS contamination, there is zero chance of ensuring the health and well-being of those who rely on the river’s resources in the future. This is particularly important when considering deepening options for the beneficial uses of these contaminated sediments. PFAS contamination adds another layer of complexity that will require extensive testing and could significantly impact project costs and feasibility.

There is no question that this proposed dredging project will certainly disturb sediments, releasing PFAS and other contaminants back into the water, which poses risks to aquatic life and human health.

Key issues include the following:

• Contamination — Dedging stirs PFAS, disrupts water quality.
• Aquatic risks — PFAS can bioaccumulate in marine organisms.
• Health concerns — Contaminated fish and drinking water pose human health risks.
• Regulatory challenges — Lack of consistent state or federal guidelines will create confusion for any of the deepening alternatives proposed under the port’s Section 203 study.

To enable the federal and state governments to properly manage PFAS risks related to deepening or maintenance dredging within the navigation channel, increased testing, ongoing research, development of standards, and best management practices are essential.

PFAS contamination is impacting rivers and harbors across our country. Michigan’s Department of Environment now mandates PFAS testing for sediments in harbor dredging, which is causing project delays, such as in Grand Haven, due to unclear safety standards. The Corps warns that this could reduce dredging operations from 24 to only three to five harbors annually due to rising costs — up to 200% higher with resampling — and the lack of precise guidance.

Given these critical issues, taxpayers should be alarmed by a proposed port project that fails to account for its environmental and infrastructural costs. Suppose we don’t consider the long-term implications of the port’s proposed alterations to our river. In that case, we might find ourselves stuck with unsustainable financial and environmental costs, while the economic benefits remain questionable at best.

It is our river, yet it has been treated as a stepchild compared to other, less critical economic priorities. Standard economic models often overlook the real financial value of natural resources and ecological systems like those on the lower Cape Fear River. Since nature’s “goods and services,” such as clean air, fresh water, and fully functioning floodplains and wetlands, are often considered free, they are becoming overused and undervalued. As I’ve tried to explain here, the degradation of our environment directly affects our citizens, taxpayers, and the species that depend on healthy ecosystems.

As the Corps prepares its EIS, it is essential to find more sustainable alternatives than digging us into a deeper hole that we can’t escape.  If not for us, then how about our kids, grandchildren, and their grandchildren?

If you have an opinion or concerns about this project, please submit your comments to:

By Email: WilmingtonHarbor403@usace.army.mil, or by mail to  ATTN: Wilmington Harbor 403, 69 Darlington Ave., Wilmington, NC 28403, or by comment cards at the public meetings.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Editor’s Note: Tabb’s Trails is a commentary photo-essay series with coastal reporter, photographer and hiking enthusiast Kip Tabb.

Driving along N.C. 12 Saturday, Oct. 18, it becomes quickly obvious that a nor’easter recently blew across the Outer Banks.

Traffic has stopped twice in the 4.5 miles to clear the road of sand and ocean overwash between the south end of the Basnight Bridge and the Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge Visitor Center, where a birding trip was scheduled as part of the 2025 Wings Over Water Wildlife Festival held Oct. 14-19. The trip, along with several others on federally managed lands, were canceled or modified because of the government shutdown that began Oct. 1 and continued at the time of this publication.

North Carolina Department of Transportation crews are hard at work, rebuilding the sand dune, but the evidence of the storms that had battered coastal North Carolina cannot be missed.

Standing water from overwash still covers the road in places. Sand on the roadway forces drivers to slow down even when there is no stoplight controlling traffic. Some dunes show clear signs of the waves that ran over them, their sand a darker color and more compact that dunes to the north and south.

Yet nature will abide, and at the visitor center, the North Pond is filled with images that no camera can truly capture. A flock of 200 or 300 northern pintail 150 or 200 yards long seems to be paddling effortlessly from the south to the north.

There are songbirds in the trees and foliage, and a yellow-rumped warbler darts by, too quick for the camera to focus. It’s a bird that is almost never seen in the summer in northeastern North Carolina but it is ubiquitous in the fall and winter.

As it turns out, it was a remarkable day on the half-mile North Pond Wildlife Trail that begins behind the visitor center, with rarely seen species making an appearance and migratory waterfowl filling the waters of the pond with color and sound.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. Note: This piece was updated Nov. 3 to correct an erroneous statistic regarding Chemours’ proposed expansion.

One of the state’s most egregious corporate polluters has evaded public accountability for years. Now, the company is seeking to expand its output of toxic chemicals in eastern North Carolina. 

Since the mid 1970s the Chemours chemical manufacturing facility in Fayetteville has been spewing toxic PFAS into the air and water, contaminating the air and drinking water, food and bodies of water of a half-million people in the southeast region. The public was unaware of this until 2017, when researchers at NC State University detected high levels of the chemical GenX in the river’s drinking water. The revelation was so egregious community group Clean Cape Fear engaged the U.N. Human Rights Council to find Chemours and its parent company DuPont had committed business-related human rights abuses and called for accountability. Exposure to PFAS is known to cause certain types of cancers, immune system suppression, and developmental issues. But even after the news broke about this public health crisis in 2017, Chemours continued to produce PFAS and poisoning the Cape Fear River region. 

Beyond polluting the Cape Fear River, which supplies drinking water to more than 500,000 people downstream of Chemours’ discharge pipes, Chemours’ airborne PFAS emissions have poisoned at least 7,000 private drinking water wells across ten counties. This is not just a historical issue – it’s an ongoing crisis. Eight years after learning about GenX in North Carolina’s tap water and state regulators still do not know the full scope of groundwater contamination to the region. 

Despite this legacy of harm across southeastern North Carolina, the company has recently applied to NC DEQ (Department of Environmental Quality) for an air permit to dramatically expand its Fayetteville chemical production operations and increase its PFAS production and waste. Chemours has demonstrated a pattern of corporate misconduct, concealing information about the dangers of its water and air pollution from regulators and the public for decades. The company has violated court orders to curb PFAS pollution. And, earlier this year, the state expanded its PFAS testing zone, ordering Chemours to test for PFAS in an additional 150,000 private wells in six counties – a sign of how far these toxic chemicals have spread across the state.  

This is not a company that can be trusted to expand its operations responsibly, and it is one local example of the  PFAS pollution crisis, which is now a nationwide problem. Thoughtful and common-sense federal solutions were recently put in place, but  are now being rescinded.  

In 2024, the Biden Administration’s Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) restricted six PFAS chemicals (GenX/HFPO-DA, PFBS, PFHxS PFNA, PFOA, and PFOS), under the Safe Drinking Water Act, which the agency estimated could benefit up to 105 million people nationwide. But the Trump administration is now in the process of trying to rescind some of those restrictions that would have helped reduce PFAS pollution in public tap water. The Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) and its partners are opposing the EPA’s proposed rollbacks and have turned to the courts for protection.  

Until federal regulators issue clear guidance and protections for PFAS, it is up to state agencies to protect our health and natural resources. In North Carolina, that means DEQ must reject Chemours’ air permit application and do its job to protect North Carolinians from being further poisoned by this company’s toxic chemical pollution.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Remember that set of canisters and accouterments your mom or grandma cherished? The one that looked like a gnome mushroom village exploded all over the kitchen?

People love — or hate — toadstools with a passion.

Toadstools are found pretty much worldwide, and they are important parts of any ecosystem. Mushrooms and toadstools are both fungal fruiting bodies, and there is technically no scientific difference between them. People tend to refer to safely edible varieties as mushrooms, while the ones that can send you on a trip to the hospital — or on a trip to meet your maker — as toadstools.

The distinction is purely in how the fungi are perceived.

How do you tell which is which? Best advice: Unless you are with an expert who knows for sure, or you have an imminently painful death wish, don’t try any wild ones — mushrooms or toadstools.

Most of us are somewhat familiar with toadstools. They pop up, seemingly overnight, here, there and everywhere. But why? Mostly because fungi don’t reproduce by seeds. They reproduce by spores.

Once a toadstool has reached maturity, it releases tiny — often microscopic — spores, and the wind carries them to a new spot. There, spores wait patiently, sometimes for years, until the right conditions occur for them to sprout. This is why we often see them after a rainy spell, or after a warming period.

Those spores, in turn, send out microscopically fine threads, root-like filaments, which then form clumps called mycelia.

Mycelia break down and decompose organic matter such as leaves, branches, logs or other natural substances in order to return nutrients to the soil. Instead of hating on those toadstools in your yard, think about how beneficial they are. Rather than being a blight, toadstools are actually an indicator of a thriving ecosystem.

Of course, there are often pets and kids to consider, and some fungi dissolve into slimy, stinky messes. Ever smelled a stinkhorn? Think rotting meat, Pepe Le Pew chasing his cat girlfriend, or raw sewage. Why, you ask?

Stinkhorns, while inarguably the stinkiest of stinky toadstools, attract flies by means of a foul-smelling slime. The flies then disperse the sticky, stinky, stinkhorn spores. Pretty clever, huh? If you’ve ever walked the trail at Fort Macon, you’ve likely come across these, whether you realized what it was or just figured some critter had crawled off into the scrub and died.

Related to earthstars and puffballs, stinkhorns usually start out as a white, egg-like toadstools before some of them morph into a salmon- or orange-colored Halloween decoration. Stinkhorns can be found in a range of sizes, shapes and colors, and they have the most interesting names.

Part of the scientifically called Phallaceae family — and yes, that’s exactly what some of them look like — this could be where people get the ideas for monsters and aliens. Devil’s fingers, or Clathrus archeri, look like black-tipped orange fingers erupting from the ground. Veiled lady, or Phallus indusiatus, looks like a ghostly bride. It’s no wonder toadstools get a bad rap.

Have you ever seen a fairy ring? People used to think if you stepped inside one, the fairies would take you. Or they’d make you dance until you dropped dead. Or they’d transport you to Faerie, and you’d never get back home.

Sadly, the real reason for fairy rings is much less interesting, although still magical in its own way. The rings form because of high concentrations of nitrogen, or from decaying tree roots or other organic material. Growth begins in the center, such as around a rotted tree stump, or even where a tree used to be, and spreads outward, giving rise to the familiar circle.

Toadstools are an important food source for a variety of critters. Snails, slugs, squirrels, deer, rodents, turtles, and insects. Some critters even develop a tolerance for poisons present in the toadstools, poisons that would kill humans.

Toadstools have been used for thousands of years medicinally, as dyes, as poisons. For instance, fly agaric, or Amanita muscaria, with its iconic red cap and white polka dots, one of the most easily recognizable toadstools worldwide, has been used for centuries to kill flies. Not sure of the exact process, but basically people would sprinkle fly agaric in milk. Living on a farm with its attendant livestock and ensuing manure, or in a town with less-than-desirable trash and sewage practices, one can see where fly agaric would be highly valued.

Mushrooms have been adding culinary joy — for those who like them — to meals for probably those same thousands of years. While some people don’t like the taste or texture, mushrooms have countless uses in addition to food. Medicines, tinctures, flavoring, even mycoremediation, a fancy word for removing or degrading contaminants from or in the environment.

Toadstool names are as intriguing as the actual toadstools: ink caps, fly agaric, Indian pipes. Same is true for mushrooms: morels, bolete, lion’s mane.

While some mushrooms, morels or lion’s mane or chicken of the woods can be foraged naturally, above all, use caution and know what you’re doing. Interesting side note: when the American chestnuts were dying out, morels, or Morchella esculenta, could be picked up by the wagonloads. Think buckboard, not RadioFlyer. Sensing the tree’s imminent demise, the morels would produce mushrooms in abundance to produce spores to ensure the species’ survival.

Different mushrooms grow best around different trees and can often be located by finding the right trees or habitats.

Look up, not down! Morels like moist woodlands and can often be found around decaying elm, ash sycamore, or even old apple trees. Lion’s mane, or Hericium erinaceus, grows on hardwoods, such as oak and maple. Chicken of the woods, or Laetiporus sulphureus, grows on hardwoods, both living and dead.

If you like to eat mushrooms, and prefer to use trusted sources other than stores — or death-defying guesstimating — shoutout to Jamie’s Mushroom Farm in Havelock.

Jamie grows amazing mushrooms, and it’s an infinitely interesting process. You can get them fresh or dehydrated, and they are scrumptious!

If you travel sandy coast lines anywhere in this country you will see piers. They are popular places to visit the beach without getting sandy, to enjoy the sea, and, of course, to go fishing.

Unfortunately, too many people who try to fish at our piers won’t really have any success and will be disappointed. Here are a couple of tips to help you find some good action at any of our piers.

For starters, we need to determine what is meant by a pier. I’m talking about a structure built on pilings that is above the surface of a body of water. Specifically, we will be directly referring to those that are on ocean beaches.

Along the North Carolina coast, we have them almost everywhere, from Avalon in the north at Kill Devil Hills, as far south as Sunset Beach.

Each of them will have local technical expertise that will separate the rookies from what we used to call “The Sharpies,” however there are things that we’re here to talk about to get us all started.

On all piers, there are fish to possibly be caught from the front, to the very end. As Maria from “The Sound of Music” always says, “Let’s start at the beginning. A very good place to start.”

When you first venture across the sand, there will be fish right in the surf zone. From there on, pan-sized fish that are very popular to pursue, both for their willingness to get involved and the pleasure they bring when we get them home, will be present. There’s a very simple way to get them, but as with all things to do with fishing, it’s the details that make the day.

Use with a light rod. Something that can handle a 15-pound test braided line and a 1-ounce pyramid sinker without flexing all the way down, but with a responsive tip. There will be a myriad of options for bait fishing rigs for sale in the shops and at the pier itself. If you are able, forgo those choices and make your own.

Start with a monofilament line that is no more than 30-pound test. Do not, repeat NOT, use anything with wire. Tie in two dropper loops (diagrams available wherever diagrams are sold), attach a small orange bead and a size 1/0 circle hook to one, then a pink bead and the same kind of hook to the other.  If you don’t want to tie your own, purchase the one that is the closest to this description. This is THE main difference between people catching, and those watching.

There are lots of options for bait, depending on your industriousness and abilities. The top would be sand fleas that you just dug from the surf yourself. There are those who will par boil them quickly and freeze. Next choice would be pieces of fresh shrimp. (You’ll notice I don’t mention frozen shrimp). Regardless, most savvy anglers also use a very small piece of Fishbites brand in the shrimp flavor, which is a scent infused natural product that adds appeal. It’s available everywhere. 

Bites will come as fast taps. With the circle hooks you will not miss as many strikes as you will otherwise if you happen to leave your rod unattended.

A note about that: I once lost a rod while fishing a live minnow from the pier untended. Guy standing there said, “Shot out there about 10-, 15-foot.”

This method will work for pompano, sea mullet, or pretty much anything that frequents the surf zone. If spots are running, substitute with sea worms for bait and try a size 2 hook. That usually happens in fall. Let me add that being observant to successful people is a good idea and most are glad to help.

Most piers have a rule limiting anglers to two rods. Not everyone follows. But if you do, your other rod should be set up with a Gotcha/Jerk Jigger plug. This is a lure that when it’s retrieved with a twitch-pause retrieve, won’t pop out of the water while being high up in the air like on a pier.

Attach it to your line with a 30-pound monofilament leader. They are so effective that some people use them all the time wherever bluefish, Spanish mackerel, or false albacore are surface feeding. But on the deck of the pier is where they shine. Not just for blues, macs, and albies either.

If you look down at the base of the pilings you will see a depressed area around each. By simply yo-yoing your plug around each piling, there is a good chance of hooking a flounder.

With a simple variation you can have a productive lure to catch anything that swims. To the end of your line, tie a three-way swivel. Tie two lengths of 20-pound line. Leave the first piece 3 feet long and the second piece 2 feet long. To the longer length attach a Gotcha plug. Any color is good as long as it’s red and white. To the shorter length tie on a D.O.A. shrimp lure in literally any color.

If fish are visible feeding on the surface, retrieve as always. If not, use a lift fall retrieve as if you’re jig fishing. Strikes will come on the drop and will be on either lure, with some large speckled trout falling to the plastic shrimp.

I’m pretty confident that with those two rods rigged and ready you will have a good chance of having success on any pier anywhere. Having said that, make sure to have a few extra of everything. Also, a fish finder rig with a piece of mullet has a chance to do SOMETHING on a day when not much else seems to be happening. Of course be ready if someone is getting and you are not, and switch it up if necessary.

Finally, fishing is supposed to be relaxing. If you’re on the pier on a busy fall day when the spots are thick, be prepared to get tangled up with someone. Just part of the way it goes. You can make your day better, or worse, by the way you handle it.

 Preparing pompano for the table

Start by completely removing the head and all entrails (ew). Now hold what’s left by the tail and scrape your knife from the back to front to remove the small scales. When you get it all it will not sound so … scrapey(?) Clean your knife blade and run it along a steel to tighten up your blade edge. Cut through the skin just to the backbone several times on each side. This is called scoring. Dust very lightly with flour and season liberally with whatever spices you like. Old Bay goes nicely.

Heat a nonstick sauté pan over medium heat with butter until it gets foamy.

Lay the fish in the pan and leave it alone. Don’t touch it, slide around, or otherwise touch it, if you mess with it, you will ruin it. After a few minutes the edges will change color slightly and will begin to come off the pan. When it’s done it will come loose and then you will see a beautiful crust has formed. Turn it over now.

Drop in a couple knots of butter and let it melt. Spoon the melted butter over the top. It won’t take long. Have a plate ready. Serve with fresh vegetables and some good bread. This is a solid date night recipe. Good luck.

Gardening isn’t just about seeing things others miss, it’s also the scents. Isn’t it amazing how much our tastes change with the advent of fall?

Instead of the salads and light desserts we enjoy during hotter weather, our souls crave hearty soups and stews, carb-rich foods like breads, and the fruits of our summer labors.

Many people won’t notice the changes, or think much about them, and just go on with their normal lives. Gardeners and farmers, more attuned to the seasons, relish the ancient rhythms. Things are slowing down, preparing to catch their breath in order to gear up for next year.

Colors are switching from shades of green to browns and purples and oranges, yellows and burnt umber. Again, most people won’t pay much attention, but even the colors or our clothing reflect the changing of the seasons.

Our wind, from the south most of the summer, switches to north or northwest, bringing cooler temps and lessening humidity. Or occasionally northeast, bringing storms and setting schools of fish to running, hopefully insuring a bountiful catch for our commercial fishermen.

Fall scents, such as wood smoke or burning leaves, or applesauce or pear butter simmering fill the air. Ever notice how easily you can distinguish leaf smoke from any other smoke scent? Maybe it’s because the leaves have stored up a summer’s worth of sunshine and blue skies and they’re releasing it back into the air.

Grasshoppers are giving it their best effort, filling their bellies and in turn, feeding birds and lizards. Butterflies are slurping nectar from any available source like insects possessed, some preparing to over-winter here and some to migrate.

One of my fondest childhood memories is experiencing the Monarchs on their way to Mexico. We had a huge oak tree in our yard. I went out to play one day and the tree looked odd. Upon closer inspection, it was absolutely enveloped in Monarchs. Flexing their wings like they’d become tree leaves being stirred by the lightest of zephyrs, they were resting. Next day, they were gone. How crazy is it to think something as fragile as a butterfly can fly thousands of miles?

The heady scent of cinnamon and spices, of casseroles baking, of winter squash and collards and sweet potatoes, sets our bellies to rumbling. Winter squashes, such as butternuts, with their hard shells, don’t grow in the winter, they merely ripen closer to cool weather and will keep most of the winter.

Summer squash grow in the summer but their softer skins turn to moldy mush quickly. Winter squash, which include pumpkins and cushaws and spaghetti squash as well as butternuts have traditionally been grown as winter keepers, designed to stave off starvation when other, more fragile vegetables are nothing but a memory.

Like late apples and Kieffer pears, also utilized as winter keepers, winter squash provided vitamins and nutrition when little else, other than greens or onions and other root crops, was available from the garden.

Some enjoy the flies-on-the-screen-door scents of collards and cabbage cooking, others can’t stand them. Hopefully you’ve gotten your winter garden planted and off to a good start so your cabbage and collards will be ready to eat for Thanksgiving. Blessed with multiple growing seasons in a year, eastern North Carolina provides ample opportunity to space out our gardening.

Veggies like broccoli and greens love the cooler fall weather. Lettuces and spinach and brussels sprouts thrive this time of year, while trying them in the spring, depending on how quickly the weather turns hot, is often an iffy proposition. Turnips and rutabagas and even radishes do well now. All of these, even uncooked, have distinct smells.

Wonder if that’s how moths and butterflies, the ones that lay the eggs that turn into nasty little green caterpillars who like to eat our cole crops, locate their choice egg laying spots? Can insects smell? How do they locate suitable plants? Inquiring minds want to know!

Ever noticed how even some seeds smell like the vegetables they will become? Carrots, for instance, with one whiff, there’s no doubt what they are. Some herb seeds are the same, dill being a favorite, and thyme. Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota), the wild ancestor of modern carrots, along with having gorgeous blooms, carries the distinct carrot aroma.

Mums are blooming, their scent as characteristic as that of marigolds or geraniums. The scent of freshly mown grass takes on more of a hay-like quality as the grasses go into winter mode.

If you have a suitable window, fresh herbs such as basil and dill will do fine inside for the winter. More cold hardy herbs, like parsley and rosemary, will be fine outside. Whether they’re fresh or dried, herbs smell wonderful. There’s nothing like a fresh baked loaf of rosemary-parmesan sourdough just out of the oven, and a big fat slice slathered in butter! Or fresh made applejacks/handpies/fruit pies.

Scents seem … more … during cooler weather, the way the stars are clearer and closer during the winter.

Scent is said to be the strongest of our senses, as far as memories go. Scent-triggered memories, the longest lasting and most particularly powerful of what our brains can conjure, can take us back to our childhoods or to any special memories with just one whiff. Cotton candy, anyone? Tobacco drying in a barn? Clothes hanging on the line? Rotten eggs? Grandpa’s pipe? Fresh-sawn lumber? A live Christmas tree? Pancakes and bacon, coffee and hot cocoa? A new box of crayons? Hay in a barn? Milk cows in a parlor?

How many memories just exploded from merely mentioning those scents?

Given the Scottish-Cherokee-Scots-Irish roots prevalent in our area, offering food is a time-honored gift. Differing circumstances led to all those ancestors of ours knowing firsthand about starvation. It’s often why the first thing that greets you — after the aroma of a home-cooked meal on the stove tantalizes your senses and sets your tummy to growling like a hungry dragon — is, “D’jeet yet? Come on in and set a spell.”

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues.

I am writing on behalf of the Town of Ocean Isle Beach regarding the September 30 article, “Sand is vanishing on east side of Ocean Isle’s $11M erosion fix.” While we appreciate Coastal Review’s coverage of coastal management issues, the article does not provide full context and leaves readers with an incomplete understanding of the facts.

The terminal groin project was subject to a lengthy, transparent public process:

• Initial scoping meeting: October 3, 2012
• Project Review Team Initial Meeting: March 5, 2013
• Draft Environmental Impact Statement: March 3, 2015
• Terminal groin public workshop (3 West Third Street): April 4, 2015
• Final Environmental Impact Statement: April 15, 2015
• CAMA Permit Issued: November 2016
• Groin Construction began: November 2021

The development known as The Point followed a separate timeline. The developer first appeared before the Planning Board in June 2015, after the above meetings had taken place. He purchased the property in September 2015. In October 2016, the Board of Commissioners issued preliminary plat approval. After a period of stalled activity, the Major CAMA Permit for The Point was issued on June 18, 2018. The developer then submitted a new sketch plan in December 2019, and final subdivision approval was granted in 2022.

Related: Sand is vanishing on east side of Ocean Isle’s $11M erosion fix

All this information was publicly available prior to development of this area. By omitting these facts, the article gives the impression that property owners were unaware of the project, when the Town followed a thorough and publicly documented process in full compliance with state and federal requirements.

Ocean Isle Beach values Coastal Review’s role in informing the public about coastal issues, and we respectfully request that future reporting includes the full timeline, so readers have a complete understanding of both the Town’s due diligence and the developers’ decision-making process.

Thank you for your attention to this matter,

Debbie S. Smith, Mayor
Town of Ocean Isle Beach

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

There’s a type of lure that is popular worldwide, and in some places it’s the most common lure sold. If you’re casting for salmon on a river in the Northwest, looking for pike in Canada, or trolling for lake trout in the Great Lakes, you’re going to be using a spoon. But around here they are dramatically underutilized except in very specific fisheries.

Let’s examine those and also see where else we can put them to use.

According to Wikipedia, “A spoon lure is a fishing lure usually made of lustrous metal, with an oblong, usually concave shape like the bowl of a spoon.” Furthermore, they are “mainly used to attract predatory fish by specular reflection of light, as well as turbulences it creates when moving in water.”

Now that we know what, let’s talk about how.

If I were a betting man, and I’m not, I would wager that more Spanish mackerel and bluefish under 12 inches long are caught on size 00 Clark Spoons than anything else. Those anglers trolling along the beaches will drag them behind bead-chain trolling sinkers if they’re going slowly and fishing with lighter gear, or use heavier trolling rods attached to down-planers if they want to go faster and cover more area. It can be highly effective because the hooks are in the water all the time and it’s a good way to go when there are less-experienced people onboard. You’ll see this being done from the Outer Banks to Shallotte.

The next most popular way they are used is to target surface-feeding fish such as mackerel, bluefish, false albacore, or anything else. Small slender spoons that can be retrieved quickly without coming out of the water are preferred. Best are the Gunslingers made by Beach Bum Lures. They cast far and look great in the water. Even better, they are made with quality hooks that won’t break and a great finish that doesn’t get scratched off by toothy creatures.

Anyplace that fish are feeding near the surface (usually you will see them jumping clear or the splashing they make), it’s worth trying this style of spoon.

The classic Johnsons Silver Minnow spoon was first created by a retired Chicago foundry worker named Louis Johnson in 1923. The story goes, he got tired of weeds fouling his bass fishing lures. So he hammered out a spoon from the kitchen, soldered a weed guard on and attached a hook. Hence a classic was born.

Around our coast, we use gold-colored Johnson’s Spoons to blind-cast for red drum that are lurking in stained water. The flash and disturbance attract fish that come in for a closer look. You simply need to cast and retrieve. No fancy rod manipulation is necessary.

Be aware that since the tie-in point is directly in line with the hook bend, it can easily get hooked up to oyster bars. This is a scourge and there are many of my spoons out there.

The biggest reds ever caught in my boat were taken on Johnson’s spoons. I don’t remember the guy’s name, but he had been among the first Marines to arrive in Baghdad. His father purchased a day for him to fish with me back when I was doing that. As you might expect with three young guys barely out of their teens, there was a lot of “talking,” but very fun.

We saw a school of especially large reds, I got the boat into position and all three of them proceeded to cast in every direction but the one where the fish were.

To take the pressure off, I said, “I thought they DIDN’T use chemical weapons on you guys!” That made them all crack up hysterically and they all then proceeded to catch giant monsters.

Another great use for spoon lures is vertical jigging. In trying to remember the different species of fish I’ve using this technique, it’s almost bewildering. Suffice it to say that with the right-sized spoon,  and accounting for the depth and current, there is not a predatory fish that swims in fresh or saltwater that will refuse. I was going to list them all but it’s just too much. Instead, I’ll concentrate on a method that works for any fish that is congregating around bottom structures. That includes wrecks, reefs, and rocks.

Start by selecting the proper spoon. In this situation, I prefer plain silver or gold Stingsilvers. Select the short, fat, 3-ounce model. Switch the hook to a single 3/0 O’Shaugnessy. Nothing fancy or expensive. You’re going to leave some on the bottom. Rig your leader with 40-pound monofilament. Otherwise, you’ll also leave a lot in the mouths of fish you never see.

Identify a patch or reef you want to check out. Drop to the bottom as quickly as possible. You’ll have to adjust how much line you have depending on the depth. The faster you drift, the more line you will be letting out. Strikes will come on the fallback to the bottom. You’ll most likely feel a slight “tick” in your hand. Strike quickly, then be ready for anything.

I’ve hooked everything from pinfish to tarpon, with predictable results for each. If there are king mackerel you are going to want wire.

As many fish species that I have caught doing vertical jigging, I would recommend being prepared to use it anytime you are fishing in deep water, and fish are showing up on your depth finder screen. If something is dangling in their faces, they probably won’t be able to resist.

So basically, there are lots of ways to fish spoons. The guys on the Jersey Shore are catching huge striped bass offshore. If you travel to the Great Lakes tributaries and you don’t know what else to do, you do now. The biggest walleye I ever caught was a 12-pounder through the ice on a vertically jigged spoon.

Spoon feed ’em. They’ll eat!

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues.

Note: National Estuaries Week is Sept. 20-27

When most people think about fighting climate change, they think about cutting tailpipe emissions, swapping coal plants for solar panels, or driving electric cars. But there’s another powerful tool right in front of us: coastal habitats like salt marshes and submerged seagrass meadows. These living ecosystems are not just fish nurseries, wildlife havens and storm buffers — they are also massive storehouses for carbon, helping slow the pace of global warming.

Nature’s Carbon Vaults

Every blade of marsh grass and every seagrass frond pulls carbon dioxide out of the air and water through photosynthesis. Some of that carbon goes back into the atmosphere when plants die and decay — but much of it gets buried in the wet, oxygen-poor soils beneath. Think of these habitats as nature’s deep freezers: once carbon is locked in the muck, it can stay there for hundreds or even thousands of years.

This storage is so effective that acre-for-acre, coastal wetland ecosystems can hold several times more carbon than forests on land. That’s why scientists call this “blue carbon.”

Beyond Storage: The New Science of Carbon Flux

For years, we assumed the carbon benefits of these habitats came mostly from how much carbon they locked underground. But new research — including work my colleagues and I have been doing — shows that the story is bigger.

Wetlands and seagrass beds aren’t closed systems. They interact constantly with surrounding waters, exchanging organic matter and nutrients in what scientists call lateral flux. In plain English: tides, currents, and groundwater move carbon in and out of these habitats.

Here’s the exciting part: the more we study this flux, the more we see that coastal habitats are exporting “good carbon”— forms that stimulate carbon storage in seawater or reduce greenhouse gases in the water column. In other words, their climate benefit isn’t just what they store in their soils, but also how they influence the chemistry of surrounding waters.

Early estimates suggest this added benefit may be as large, or even larger, than the carbon stored directly in the soil. That means we’ve been dramatically underestimating how valuable these habitats are for slowing climate change.

Research Coming to North Carolina

This fall, I’ll be bringing this research to North Carolina, where salt marshes play a defining role in both the coastal landscape and economy. With support from the North Carolina Coastal Federation, my team and I will be monitoring marshes in the state to measure their carbon values. These field studies will help determine just how much carbon is being stored and exported — and how that compares with other places along the East Coast and nationwide.

By putting real numbers on the carbon services provided by North Carolina’s salt marshes, we can give policymakers, landowners, and communities the science they need to make smart investments in protecting and restoring them.

More Than Just Carbon

Of course, carbon storage is only one of many economic and ecological gifts coastal wetlands and seagrasses provide. They buffer shorelines from storms, filter pollutants, support fisheries, and provide nurseries for countless species. Protecting and restoring them is not just smart climate policy — it’s smart coastal policy, period.

A Call to Action

We’re still learning just how much carbon benefit these habitats provide, but one thing is clear: Every acre we lose is a lost opportunity to fight climate change and protect coastal communities. Protecting and restoring degraded marshes and seagrass meadows is one of the rare win-win strategies that helps people, wildlife, and the planet’s climate at the same time.

As new science on lateral flux continues to emerge — and as fresh fieldwork in North Carolina fills in key data gaps — we’ll have an even stronger case for investing in these natural climate powerhouses. Protecting coastal habitats isn’t just about saving pretty places — it’s about giving our coastal communities and working lands a fighting chance against rising seas and extreme storms.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Recently I was relaxing on the pier. It was a gorgeous day and many folks were enjoying it. The only sounds were waves washing on shore, gulls having their usual conversations, and occasionally one could hear voices and snippets of people chatting.

I was just zoning in and seeing some blues and Spanish mackerel feeding.

Peaceful.

It all changed when this “person” turned on a huge speaker and cranked the knob off. It was akin to the sound of ice breaking underfoot and about as welcome.

It’s a personal preference but I found, through extensive research (I asked a bunch of people I know), that there are definitely commonalities to be found.

Michael Howlett of Newport used to run big boat charters in Oahu. They would always have music playing when fishing offshore for mahi mahi, tuna, marlin. Sometimes it was a while between bites but usually it added to the fun of the day for the tourists who would come out for the day.

I used to fish quite a bit with a friend, Bryan Pahmeier of Titusville, Florida, who is gone now and who had a really nice sound system wired up in his flats boat. He’d use it when running to new spots but not early in the morning.

Justin Manners of Jacksonville says it depends which fish and at what depth. “Ocean, I say go for it. Deeper water bottom fishing for bull drum, catfish, etcetera, go for it. Fishing flats, I’m not going to take a chance.”

This seems to be the theme, as we continue to see.

Ryan Furtak, a fly-fishing guru from Scranton, Pennsylvania, who is the master of the Upper Delaware River system, has an interesting take: “Loud music is completely fine. Under these conditions: Smallmouth bass fishing. I never found they cared. Definitely not while trout fishing or saltwater flats fishing. Spook large trout 100% of the time. Spook flats fish and won’t be able to properly communicate with the guy poling the boat. Otherwise, as long as nobody is around to be disturbed, crank it up.”

Chris Medlin of Surf City offers a measured response, appropriate for the mayor’s son: “Hmmm, I’d say we should just tolerate it because I just don’t want rule after rule on our outdoor activities.”

Those are the people who have mixed feelings or are more open to loud music. I have a lot of friends who are adamant about their opposition, to say the least.

Tim Still of Havelock enters Focus Mode where music is unwelcome. “Well, I’m against it for the same reason I turn off my radio completely when I’m parallel parking. I don’t like the distraction, but I’m not sure if it affects the fish.”

I feel the same way about parallel parking, for sure.

If you talk to Capt. Harry from Kitty Hawk, he’ll tell you, “That’s a hard no while fishing except when traveling, but then it depends on what’s playing.”

Rob Snowhite of Washington, D.C., “despises” having to listen to others’ music on the water. “Never play mine while out for same reason. Maybe going from Point A to Point B”, but even then he says, be considerate.

Now we start to get into the real meat of the conversation. People who are passionate and experienced at fishing for the big ones in the shallows like Rick Patterson of Cape Carteret, “I personally wouldn’t. I believe having loud music playing would definitely spook reds in shallow water.” 

As we’ll see, the more technical the fish you are target, the more likely you will find that anglers don’t want any extra sound. Dave Bernstein of Morehead City gets right to the point, “Never have music on while fishing.”

David Edens of Hilton Head fly fishes 98% of the time. He says that redfish on the low tides are super spooky but, “It’s Ok when I am fishing bait in deep waters. Just not too loud.”

Rip Woodin of Rocky Mount, a confirmed fly fisherman who was taught to fish in the mountains, is unequivocal, “No.” (He may have added a colorful word for emphasis.)

Kristi Irvin, who now lives in Italy, came up with a response that matched her lovely personality, “Good Morning, my friend!  How are you?  Thanks for asking my opinion. First, I love music. It’s a huge part of my life. I never listen to music while fishing however.  I love the sounds of what’s going on around me.   When I first head out, the sounds of nature are exhilarating and relaxing at the same time. Then, most times, I’m so absorbed that even the most beautiful sounds fade away and I’m in my own world. The only time I’ve ever enjoyed playing music while fishing is when I’m on a charter boat at sea and we are making our run in or out.”

See what I mean? So nice.

Personally, I never have music on while on the water. I’m too into the sounds in my own head. As Norman Mclean tells us in “A River Runs Through It,” “The best part of fishing is that soon the whole world is full of thoughts of nothing but fishing.”

It would seem that the general consensus is that playing music while fishing is fine but in moderation. Not so loudly that it bothers the fish and definitely be considerate of others while out there. Just because it’s not illegal, doesn’t mean it’s always the right thing to do.

Vision can be as simple as the act of seeing. Or it can be mystical, as in a dream. It can be using the imagination to plan something that doesn’t exist yet, such as imagining what your yard or garden would look like if you did … such and such.

One of Webster’s definitions of vision is thus: The special sense by which qualities of an object (such as color, luminosity, shape, and size) constituting its appearance are perceived through a process in which light rays entering the eye are transformed by the retina into electrical signals that are transmitted to the brain via the optic nerve.

Most of us take vision for granted, but what does any of the above have to do with gardening? Other than planning and enjoying your flower and vegetable gardens, is it relevant?

In our way-too-gray world of concrete and reflective glass, many of us don’t pay attention to plants. They’re just … there, or not.

Some of us see every flower, no matter how tiny. Differing leaf shapes. Textures. Colors.

The basic concept of seeing is pretty much the same for most people, unless they have a problem with their vision. Your eyes take in things, and your brain translates it into identifiable colors and shapes.

Ever wonder how artists, painters, for instance, create such wonderfully detailed renderings? While we see the same things, we don’t necessarily perceive or process them in the same way.

Like looking at the ocean, and then looking at the ocean through polarized sunglasses, gradients and colors that we didn’t realize were there pop as soon as we put the sunglasses on.

Vision can be farsighted or nearsighted. One would think Monet’s famous impressionist paintings were mostly because he was myopic, or nearsighted. Actually, he had cataracts which impacted how he saw things as well as how he saw colors. The same way artists see things others don’t, or at least until our eyes are aided by polarized glasses.

So, really, what difference does any of that make, especially to gardening?

Like artists picking out details others can’t always see, gardeners pick up on things others miss — an invaluable skill in times past, when grocery stores were few and far between, much less fresh produce — when knowledge about plants could literally mean the difference between making it through the winter or starving to death.

Blooms

Gorgeous in and of themselves, flowers can indicate many things. Future berries, or tubers, or herbs. What time a certain plant will be ready to harvest, and when to let it grow longer. Potatoes usually are ready to harvest shortly after they bloom, your broccoli boasting pretty little yellow flowers means it’s too late.

Leaves

While flowers stand out a bit more, knowing which leaves are which can be just as informative. Besides maple, do you know what the most beautiful red leaves in the fall often are?

Poison ivy!

Its shiny green, three-lobed leaves stand out to those who know to steer clear. Poison ivy’s red fall raiment says “pick me, pick me,” while at the same time the bright scarlet fairly screams “danger.”

Flowers and leaves come in a vast array of colors and shapes, both of which aid in identifying and locating different plants, whether helpful or harmful.

Like opening a brand new 64-count box of Crayola crayons, flowers of every shade known to mankind and a few we may have never noticed before often catch our eye because they stand out from greenery. Just like kids, and some adults, pollinators are attracted to colors.

Knowing what willow leaves look like — long and thin — serves multiple purposes. First, willows grow in wet conditions, so their presence means water is close by. The branches make amazing baskets, and the inner bark can be boiled to make salicylic acid, otherwise known as an aspirin-like pain reliever.

Nut-bearing trees such as pecans, hickories and walnuts have distinctive leaves as well. Paw paws, mulberries, and sassafras, all useful as food or medicine sources, stand out against pines and maples and oaks.

Some plants, such as saltbush, or Baccharis halimifolia, aid humans in knowing when seasonal events are occurring in the animal world. Usually when the saltbush starts blooming, the fall migration of many varieties of fish is taking place. For centuries, fishermen have paid attention to this particular plant’s blooming in order to know when fishing would be the most lucrative. Strange, isn’t it, to think the bloom time of a plant can clue us in to what’s going on under the water?

Men and women perceive colors differently, much like artists and nonartists. This is partly because women have two X chromosomes and men only have one, so women tend to be able to perceive infinitely more shades of colors than men. Men are also more prone to red-green colorblindness.

That makes sense, given that men would traditionally have been the hunters, so they wouldn’t necessarily have needed to distinguish all the colors women see. Women have traditionally done more gathering, so they would have needed to be able to spot berries and herbs and nuts, not to mention any poisonous snakes and spiders hiding amongst them.

Probably this explains why most men can clearly see a deer or other prey animal in the woods or across a field but can’t find a bottle of ketchup in the fridge. It also gives the guys an out at the paint store. Most men truly can’t distinguish between eggshell and ivory, red and scarlet, teal and turquoise.

No matter your level of visual acuity, sight is a precious gift. Colors and shapes enhance our world in myriad ways, whether you’re a gardener or not. Vision allows us to see the beauty in ordinary things as well as enabling us to envision how to better enhance them.

Whether you’re a cottage garden aficionado and love the organized chaos growing with willy-nilly abandon, or you’re more of a formal garden person favoring grander size and a far more structured layout, enjoy!

Recently, we’ve discussed recording memories by taking better photos. We’ve also seen what makes a great fishing companion as well as memorable individual fish. But what really makes a fishing trip one to remember?

Is it just about the catching? Is it just ripping fish out of the water as fast as possible like some kind of machine, or getting the very biggest fish anybody’s ever seen? Or maybe it’s just a combination of those things … or, as the Grinch found out, maybe it’s just a little bit more.

I was lucky enough to spend a week on the Nushagak River in Alaska. It was going to be a friend of mine and a couple of his old high school friends there. The first two days were slow as the fish were not in the river. I read two novels.

On the third morning, I saw a 35-pound king salmon jumping all across the river. This was when I figured out the purpose of this trip.

They had a gas-powered generator set up for the sole purpose of running a chest freezer they had flown in. Fish were slaughtered as quickly as they could be hauled in. To make matters worse, they could not speak a sentence without using the f-bomb as every part of speech — sometimes all in the same sentence.

It quickly becomes akin to being hit with a two-by-four. I was surrounded by shiny, silver, bright salmon and also subjected to the most ignorant people with whom I had ever been stuck. There’s no accounting for how many fish I caught. But it was unending torture — not a situation I would ever want to repeat. I don’t even have any photos.

Conversely, I’ve been on some trips in which I caught very few fish, or even none, but those indeed became memorable because they included one great catch. Such was the case in catching a wild 20-inch-long brown trout behind the home of an old friend.

Then there was the huge largemouth bass I got on a 7-foot-long fly rod made by my brother.

Or maybe it was the redfish that is still the biggest one I ever caught on a fly rod while I was guided by another friend who in this case is no longer with us. (Side note: What do we do with the contact information of those who have left us?) Were those trips made better by the company? Most people would not consider a trip with only one caught fish to very memorable.

John Geirach once said, “Maybe your stature as a fly fisherman isn’t determined by how big a trout you can catch, but by how small a trout you can catch without being disappointed.”

Of course, once you say something like this, some wise guy has to be all tough and tell you how wrong you are, and real anglers only catch “Big Uns.” You know what? That’s fine for that guy, we all progress differently.

For me, I’d say that the answer lies somewhere in between. There have been the days when actual hundreds of fish were caught. Of course, there have also been times when nothing happened. I have had great trips in both situations.

What was the difference? It really comes down to the company.

I’ve been stuck in remote places with the worst company. I’ve also been fireside with good dudes after a long day and been exhausted after dragging a raft around a waterfall, knowing that the next morning would bring a good time with good fishing. I’ve been awakened in the middle of the night by salmon splashes next to my tent, and then I woke up everyone else, and we all tied into monsters.

For every trip to places like Alaska or Hawaii (big bonefish) there are dozens more with people we know and places where we are more familiar.

My father, Don Churchill, who was a huge influence on everything in my life, used to fish with me all the time. About seven years ago we took a golf cart onto an old, closed-for-business, golf course. We had a great time catching bass on fly and plastic worms. It seemed that every spot we tried had a fish or two.

It was a great day made even more exciting by my father catching a giant fish. When it jumped, it seemed to clear the bankside brush by several feet and made a sound like a canoe paddle smacking the water when it came down. Now of course, a fish like that makes any trip memorable. With my father being the one who got it and him not being able to fish at all now, it makes it even more so.

So it seems like our most memorable and meaningful fishing trips are those where the fish we caught may have been a factor, but more important was to have the people who matter really make it.

As Isaak Walton used to tell us, “Good company in a journey maketh the way seem shorter.”

That’s pretty much it.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

Our national forests are special resources that meet the needs of many constituencies and comprise 193 million acres spread across 44 states. In 2001, the federal Roadless Rule was adopted with massive public support, and it now protects 58.5 million acres of roadless national forestland in 39 states.

Roadless areas across our national forests are very popular with hikers, fishermen, hunters, and more. They also serve as natural repositories for the unique flora and fauna that live in a region.

In the future, expanding urban areas and increased fragmentation of private lands make it likely that the largest and most extensive tracts of undeveloped land will be those in public ownership. But right now, the Roadless Rule and the resource protections it offers are in jeopardy: On Wednesday, the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) opened an official process to revoke the rule.

Here in eastern North Carolina, we are fortunate to have the Croatan National Forest in our backyard. It’s home to some of the few larger tracts of longleaf pine savanna left in North Carolina.

This ecosystem was once one of the most extensive in North America, covering more than 90 million acres. Today less than 6% of this ecosystem is left, up from 3.6% just two decades ago. It’s home to a diverse collection of fish, amphibians — including the gopher frog, Lithobates capito, which is ranked “Near Threatened” by the International Union for Conservation of Nature and is considered endangered, threatened, or of special concern in every state within its range — reptiles, mammals, and birds, such as the federally threatened red-cockaded woodpecker (a longleaf pine savanna obligate).

The Croatan National Forest also contains and protects rare populations of at least 16 species of carnivorous plants including the Venus flytrap, pitcher plant, and sundews, as well as the federally endangered rough-leaved loosestrife (Lysimachia asperulaefolia). This vital habitat is under increasing pressure from development. The Croatan contains four Designated Wilderness Areas – Catfish Lake South, Pocosin, Pond Pine, and Sheep Ridge – totaling over 31,000 acres. 

Additionally, there are thousands of acres of other “inventoried roadless areas” (IRA) contiguous to the Wilderness areas where road construction is regulated by the Roadless Rule.

The rescission of the Roadless Rule would remove inventoried roadless areas from special scrutiny and would open these areas to construction of roads to facilitate logging and other industrial activities. Ostensibly, the reason given for this regulatory change is to better manage the roadless areas for fire control, but in reality increases in road construction lead to more fires, according to the Wilderness Society. Roadbuilding in the inventoried roadless areas leads to habitat destruction itself and the activities roadbuilding allows, such as increased logging or other extractive industrial activities, diminish the value of these areas, as well as the value of nearby wilderness areas.

In addition to protecting habitat and acting as a biological reservoir, our National Forests protect water quality of our aquifers and streams. The West Carteret Water Corp. draws its water directly from wells in the Croatan National Forest. Also on the Crystal Coast, the Croatan National Forest drains into Bogue Sound, the White Oak River, and the Neuse River. Increased roadbuilding and industrial access both create runoff and increased pollution to these protected headwaters. This in turn will negatively impact the local commercial and recreational harvest of shellfish and finfish, which the local tourist economy depends on.

Now that the USDA has opened a public comment period on its plan to revoke the Roadless Rule, it is important for all of us to speak out for these areas. Public outcry stopped the proposed sell-off of public lands this past summer as part of the budget bill. Our voices are powerful, and we can use them again to protect these jewels of our National Forest System.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Coastal Review will not publish Monday in observance of Labor Day.

Before ketchup and ranch dressing became as firmly entrenched in our culture as salt in the ocean, relishes and pickled goods were once a staple at everyone’s table.

Often engendering fierce competitions among the ladies and their “special” recipes, who doesn’t remember our grandmas proudly placing pickles or colorful relishes on the table, beautifully displayed in cut glass or crystal bowls?

Why would something that seems so simple have such an impact?

The same way herbs and spices bring out the flavors of food, relishes and pickles livened up what would otherwise most likely be bland meals.

While relishes and pickled goods are both methods of preservation, they differ somewhat. Both methods use vinegar to extend the shelf life of vegetables, providing vitamins and such when fresh produce was not in season.

Pickles, for instance, are generally whole or large pieces of whatever vegetable preserved in brine or vinegar. Most pickled vegetables, such as beets or okra, are intended to be eaten as-is, as a complement to other items on the menu.

Did anyone else’s grandma make pickled beets and add whole boiled and peeled eggs to make colorful pickled eggs?

Relishes consist of chopped or minced vegetables, often combined with others and then pickled. Designed to enhance the taste of other foods, relishes are used more for condiments than actual sides.

Along with salt, different spices are used to flavor varying dishes, such as chow-chow. Sugar can be added to make a sweeter pickle, such as bread-and-butter, or a sweet relish such as chutney. Add crushed red pepper flakes or cayenne if you like things spicier.

Like fermenting, pickling and making relishes have been around for centuries.

As with mining or harvesting and then transporting salt, vinegar was, and is, a time-consuming proposition. Simple enough to make, the acid content and enough suitable containers to store the product could present challenges.

For apple cider vinegar, all that’s really needed are apples, a bit of sweetener, water, and time. You can even use just the peels and cores. Submerse in sweetened water, cover loosely with cheesecloth, and put in a warm dark place. Stir every day and make sure the apple parts are covered by the liquid. After two to three weeks remove the peels. Put real lids on the jars and let ferment until it reaches the level of tartness you desire, usually somewhere around six months or so.

Maybe you’ve had cider that turned to vinegar or vinegar that turned cloudy. Filled with little floaty bits and a mother. What? Not that kind of mother, a SCOBY. That’s an acronym for symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast.

Whatever you do, don’t throw it out!

Looking like an alien something or other, a symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast often forms on apple cider vinegar. Perfectly safe to consume, this film of beneficial bacteria can be used to speed up the time it takes to make a new batch of vinegar by adding some of it to your peel and water mixture.

Relishes and pickled items harken back to a time when nothing was wasted, thus using apple peels and cores to make cider vinegar. Do you know what else apple cores were used for? Pectin, the powdered stuff that comes in a box now and is probably made of some indefinable chemical substance. The stuff used to make jams and jellies jell.

How did earlier peoples know how much apple core pectin to use? If the jelly set, they were good. If it was runny, they’d add a few more apple cores while the jelly was still boiling.

Waste not, want not.

Dipping a cold spoon into the boiling liquid and seeing whether it dripped off quickly or moved slower and sheeted, or made a smiley face let them know if the jelly was thick enough.

Most of us know the story of Johnny Appleseed. Collecting apple seeds from cider mills and then going walkabout, seeding apple trees for the westward-bound settlers to find and utilize.

Whether true or a tall tale, there’s probably a grain of truth buried in there somewhere. The legend of Johnny Appleseed is entirely possible, because the apples used for cider weren’t from grafted trees, thus the seeds could be planted in order to gain an apple tree literally true to its roots.

Seeds from grafted trees will most likely revert to the rootstock, often crabapples or possibly some other rootstock that doesn’t bear edible apples. The apples used in cider mills were often a hard, tart apple and, while not much good for eating, they were better for making hard cider or cider vinegar.

Both items were indispensable to the settlers.

We all know the “stoplight” apples, Red Delicious, Yellow Delicious, and green Granny Smith that have been popular for the last few decades. At one time, there were over 300 named varieties of apples in the United States, each with a different purpose, such as cider, eating, drying, and making apple butter among many others, but that’s fodder for another column.

Vinegar has a low pH, meaning it’s very acidic. This low pH is why vinegar works well in preserving foods. Harmful bacteria can’t survive the acidity. The acidity is also why crocks were so important for storage. The glazed interior of a crock keeps the acidic vinegar from eating a hole in the otherwise unprotected container.

Water can be added to raise the pH if the vinegar became too acidic.

White vinegar is also one of the best, and safest, household cleaners. It leaves no residue, kills germs, and at the same time, it’s safe for human skin.

So, what’s the difference between cider vinegar and white vinegar? White vinegar, distilled from grains, is more acidic than cider vinegar, and it’s most often used for scrubbing floors or cleaning coffee pots. Cider vinegar, made from apples, has a golden-amber color and a sweeter flavor and is most often used for vinaigrettes, marinades and seasonings.

Pickling can be an either/or proposition, with personal preference often being the deciding factor.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

From the inlets of Texas to the marsh creeks of North Carolina, the Southern flounder has been a coastal mainstay — a master of camouflage, a favorite of anglers, and a staple in commercial docks. But the fishery is in trouble, and the root cause is proving more stubborn than nets and lines: the water where these fish grow up is getting too warm for their biology to function as it should.

The Biology Behind the Problem

Southern flounder have a quirk that makes them unusually sensitive to climate change: their sex is not fixed at birth. Instead, juvenile flounder spend their first few months in shallow estuarine nursery creeks, and the water temperature during that period determines whether they develop as male or female.

In a balanced system, roughly half would be female — the egg-layers that drive reproduction. But warmer nursery waters skew this ratio heavily toward males. The difference isn’t subtle:

• North Carolina surveys (2014–2017) found that in cooler northern nurseries like the Pamlico River, about 60–67% of juveniles were male.
• In warmer southern creeks, like those in the New River, male proportions reached 81–94%, leaving only a sliver of females in the mix.

Lab experiments confirm the link: water temperatures of 80 °F or higher during early growth push most juveniles to become male, regardless of their genetic sex.

The implications are stark: fewer females, fewer eggs, fewer young fish entering the population. Without enough females, the stock’s recovery potential collapses.

Another aspect of Southern flounder biology that many fishermen don’t know is that females reach much larger adult sizes than males. The vast majority (80-90%) of males stop growing before reaching the minimum harvestable size (currently 15 inches in NC waters). That means that nearly all of the harvest (both recreational and commercial) targets females.

Fishing Pressure vs. Warming Water

Historical overfishing has contributed to the Southern flounder decline. The adult fish migrate offshore in the fall to spawn, making them easy targets as they leave the estuaries. In North Carolina, harvests were high for decades until a 2019 assessment confirmed the stock was overfished with overfishing occurring.

Since then, NC managers have imposed some of the strictest rules in state history, and throughout the species range — including a 72% cut in removals and, in 2024, the complete closure of the recreational season. These cuts have reduced fishing mortality, but the size of the population remains far below levels needed for a sustainable fishery.

What’s vexing managers is that even with drastically reduced catch, the warming-driven skewed sex ratios limit reproductive capacity and the total number of females available to harvest. In other words, fishing limits can protect adult females, but if the nurseries keep producing mostly males, there will never be enough females to rebuild the stock.

Habitat and Other Stressors

Habitat degradation — from shoreline hardening, dredging, and water pollution — has also reduced the quality of juvenile flounder habitat. Loss of vegetated marsh edges and shallow feeding flats means fewer places for young flounder to shelter and feed. But while habitat restoration can help in specific locations, it cannot offset the coastwide effects of rising water temperatures.

Not Just a North Carolina Story

From Texas to the Carolinas, Southern flounder numbers have declined in a synchronized pattern. That’s telling: historical fishing pressure as well as harvest rules vary widely, but the declines align closely with regional warming trends, pointing to climate as a coastwide driver.

Texas has invested heavily in hatchery enhancement, producing and releasing over 378,000 juvenile flounder so far, with plans to scale up. South Carolina began stocking trials in 2021. Past experiences with other coastal fisheries indicate that supplementing wild populations with hatchery fish may not solve the problem. So far, North Carolina has opted not to use hatcheries as part of Southern flounder management, focusing instead on catch reductions to rebuild the stock.

Hatcheries may provide some help in the short term, especially during years of poor natural reproduction, but they cannot solve the fundamental temperature problem that exists in wild nurseries.

The Overlooked Winter Challenge

Southern flounder spawn offshore in winter. Climate data show that ocean waters      throughout the species range are warmer now than in past decades. Key reproductive events      — egg fertilization, embryo development, and early larval growth — may be more sensitive to even modest winter warming than previously thought.

The poor recruitment in Southern flounder mirrors declining patterns observed. In other winter-spawning species, including members of the snapper-grouper complex, leading scientists to question whether we are witnessing a broader ecological regime shift toward lower productivity.

If Warming Continues

If summer and early fall estuarine temperatures keep rising:

• Sex ratios will remain heavily skewed toward males in many North Carolina nurseries.
• Even with strict fishing limits, the spawning stock will rebuild only slowly — or not at all.
• Commercial and recreational opportunities could remain severely restricted for several years.
• The fishery’s cultural and economic role in coastal NC could shrink dramatically.

Local habitat strategies — like protecting shaded, groundwater-fed creeks that stay cooler — could help maintain “female refuges” in certain areas. But these are stopgaps. Without broader climate action, the male-heavy trend will persist, limiting egg production and, ultimately, the number of flounder available to catch.

The Road Ahead

North Carolina’s current management plan aims to rebuild the stock to sustainable levels by 2028, but that target assumes average environmental conditions. If water temperatures continue to trend upward, managers may need to combine stricter harvest controls, targeted hatchery releases, and climate-resilient habitat protection just to stabilize the fishery.

For now, the Southern flounder is sending a clear signal: it’s not just about how many fish we take — it’s also about what’s happening in the water itself.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

If you have been fishing for any length of time there are certain fish that stick in your mind.

This means different things to different people. I don’t know what it says about me that the most memorable fish in my memory are the ones I didn’t even land. Nothing good, I’m sure.

I used to flyfish the Delaware River along the New York-Pennsylvania border. It’s an area well known for producing large, wild trout that fight with abandon.

Indeed, I have caught numerous brown and rainbow trout of 20 inches or better. Including a 24-inch made more memorable not for just being the largest trout I had ever caught from a body of water not connected to the Great Lakes, which is full of huge fish by the way, but also because my brother Eamon, also caught a monster that day and we were accompanied by a great friend named Ryan.

So yes, it was a big fish. Was it made more memorable because of the company? Or even more by the memory of one I hooked years before and took off like it had been shot out of cannon never to be seen? Or, a bigger one than that, which jumped in my face and left me with a bent hook? If we go often enough, this happens to us all.

I literally can smell the water and hear sounds of splashing rapids in a little pool of a stream near my dad’s house, which I had fished literally a hundred times, as I caught numerous small trout. Then one cast later, I was connected to something else that left the premises quickly. I couldn’t tell you how many fish I caught that evening, but that one memory is sealed in.

My father happened to be sitting streamside enjoying the evening as well, and he said, “What just happened there?”

Did that add to the memories as well?

Tarpon have never been a common catch for me due to the distance between them and me. All the ones I have come across have been memorable.

The first one I ever caught was late at night under a bridge in the Florida Keys, as they all have been, mostly, with one notable exception. My buddy was coughing up a tornado in our hotel in the middle of the night and I had to get out. Some guy we knew had pointed a spot out to me as a good place for night fishing. I had a casting rod that was more suited for bass fishing, but I figured it wouldn’t matter anyway.

I was totally wrong. It was happening! Large shrimp were being washed by the outgoing current and the tarpon were on.

I didn’t know what lures to use and I wasn’t prepared in any way. I cast a Rapala swimming plug and twitched it on top. In three seconds, I was stuck to a leaping brute. It wasn’t huge for a tarpon, but for me it was astounding. It jumped clean out of the water what seemed like dozens of times. Miracle of miracles it then was laying at my feet.

What happened next was foggy but here I was with a 50-pound fish that had multiple treble hooks flying around, and I didn’t really know how sharp a tarpon’s gill plates were. Needless to say, I got hooked. I was to shake it out just before the barb pushed in and the fish then did me the favor of getting off and swimming away.

Obviously, I have pretty clear memories from that encounter. Even so, sometimes I think about that night and have questions about the whole process. However, as is often the case with me, one that I didn’t catch remains crystal clear in my memory.

The same is true of another night move with another old fishing buddy.

He had already caught a small tarpon and we were stoked. Small jacks and ladyfish were keeping us busy and it was a good time. Then I saw a VERY large fish swirl and take up a feeding station right in front of me.

I made a cast. It was a little short.

Again.

This next part plays out in my mind time and again: My little shrimp fly swam past Goliath. She turned to it, turned away, then came back all the way over and slurped it while going away. My rod doubled and she flew out of the water.

Next thing was my line dissolving off my reel. She jumped again an impossible distance away. My leader was frayed off and it seemed to take forever to reel my dead line back. Off to my right I heard, “Well that was something.”

Again, a perfect, clear memory of a failed catch.

Of course, the only tarpon I ever hooked in North Carolina left me similarly empty-handed but thrilled nonetheless. It might be a character defect that I remember these instances so much more vividly.

As you may be able to tell, I’ve been fortunate enough to fish a lot of amazing places with some special people. A few of them are no longer with us and I think of them often.

There have been many giant fish that others have only ever seen in magazines. I wrote some of those articles.

I’ve said this before, I’ve been from one end of this continent to the other and been blessed with many incredible fishing experiences, but the times I’ve spent fishing with my child really have been life-changing and those that stick with me years and years later.

As Mr. Thoreau once told me:

“Our moments of inspiration are not lost though we have no particular poem to show for them; for those experiences have left an indelible impression, and we are ever and anon reminded of them.”

It’s no accident.

Sauerkraut is the only form of fermented vegetable a great many of us are familiar with.

While sauerkraut is a love-it-or-hate-it proposition to most people, fermentation is an ancient and invaluable form of preserving food. Fermentation not only keeps vegetables edible for longer than their growing season, the process of fermenting vegetables, which uses raw instead of cooked veggies, is super healthy for you.

Fermentation relies on the process of lacto-fermentation where beneficial bacteria, primarily Lactobacillus, convert natural sugars in the vegetables into lactic acid.

Lactobacillus, one of the key players in fermentation, are naturally occurring bacteria present on the surface of most vegetables. By consuming the sugars in the veggies and converting them to lactic acid, carbon dioxide and other flavorful compounds, these beneficial bacteria not only preserve veggies but also give them their unique flavor.

A natural preservative, lactic acid works by lowering the pH, which in turn inhibits growth of harmful bacteria.

Since the veggies are fermented raw and in their natural state, more nutrients remain in the finished product. Bonus: Fermenting produces powerful probiotics.

In order to ferment vegetables, you only need a few simple ingredients and containers of some sort. Think … your grandma’s crocks, the light-colored ones with the blue band just under the top rim or the tan-bottomed ones with the brown uppers. Little brown jug, anyone?

Salt.

Water.

Time.

So, if fermenting is easy to do and so good for us, why don’t more people utilize the benefits? It’s possibly because modern people tend to equate “fermented” with “rotten.”

You can ferment practically any veggie. Some, like cabbage, need to be shredded first. Others, like cauliflower, can simply be cut into bite-size pieces.

While crocks are not necessary unless you’re fermenting huge amounts, canning jars will work just fine.

For salt, sea salt is recommended. Not only does it have more minerals, sea salt generally does not contain the anti-caking agents that table salt includes. Table salt can sometimes inhibit the Lactobacillus from thriving. The quantity of salt is especially important. Besides salting to your taste, using too little salt can lead to spoilage from the growth of harmful bacteria. Too much can prevent the formation of beneficial bacteria and lead to no fermentation at all. The salt-to-water ratio is probably the most important aspect of the whole process, and it varies according to the vegetables being preserved.

Brine, or water with salt mixed in it, should be poured over the veggies once they are in your clean crock or jar. Or you can dry-salt juicier veggies and let the salt draw out the juices from within, adding water if needed. Another important part of the fermenting process is making sure all the contents of your crock or jar are submerged. You can purchase glass weights designed for this exact purpose, or you can use any glass or bowl that will keep all the contents submerged while leaving space around the edges for venting. You can even use glass rocks or simply a zippered storage bag filled with brine.

Time is the most consuming part of this. It takes a good deal of time to soften the veggies and get them to the right tanginess. Depending on which veggies you choose, the temperature in your home, and how you want them to taste, fermenting can take a couple days or up to several months.

Speaking of time, salt has been an invaluable currency and trading item for, well, forever.

Modern people don’t pay plain old salt much attention. Everyone has at least one salt shaker in their kitchen, on the table, near the stove, or in the pantry. Some of us get chastised for eating too much salt.

Anyone can go to any grocery store and buy as much salt as they want.

We use salt from everything as glorious as cooking to as lowly as melting ice on roadways.

Once upon a time, although essential for life and preserving foods, salt was scarce unless you lived near a body of saltwater or a naturally occurring salt pan.

Salt provides key elements to keep us healthy, especially if you live in a hot, humid environment and sweat a lot.

Trade routes were developed between salt-producing areas to areas without salt. Using either pack animals or wagons was the main way to transport salt, and that led to the construction of better roads.

Not only did the caravans on the Salt Roads bring salt to people who needed it, they greatly facilitated the spread of knowledge and cultural exchanges.

As early as 1776, saltworks were created around Beaufort and Morehead City. Robert Williams set up a saltworks near Gallant’s Channel. Richard Blackledge set up one on the north side of the Newport River near the mouth of Core Creek. That piece of coastline is still known to locals as “Salt Works.”

These local salt-processing plants relied on our abundance of naturally salty water and worked by either boiling it or simply pouring it into shallow evaporation pans in the sunshine. These Carteret County saltworks played an important part in local history as did others like them up and down the North Carolina coast and beyond.

Many of the old-timers still remember when salted fish was the norm. A wooden barrel was layered with fish and salt until filled — one of the only ways people here had to preserve their fresh catch.

Salt was also invaluable in tanning hides and making leather for shoes and tack and various and sundry other items.

Here in the county, the local saltworks tradition is being carried on by the Atlantic Beach Sea Salt Co. The proprietors, Bill and Kristi Langston, go far offshore and pipe the salty water from 17 fathoms deep — around 102 feet for any landlubbers out there — into their boat tanks.

Once they return to Bogue Banks they use a small-batch method to produce amazing salt that’s chock full of nutrients.

As with baking sourdough — which is also a form of fermentation — fermenting vegetables is once again coming back into favor, and it’s being recognized for its health benefits.

Stand on the beach on a nice summer day. Look out at the ocean. It’s what we do most of the time anyway.

See those boats cruising slowly parallel to the beach, anywhere from a hundred yards to as far out as you can see? Check if they have trolling lines out. I bet you they are trying to catch Spanish mackerel.

Hours and hours of effort are spent each year from April to October — along the North Carolina coast — in pursuit of the tasty, gold-spotted speedsters. Let’s take a look at when they are around and the myriad ways they can be pursued.

There are a lot of ways to do it, depending on the season and your preferred methods of fishing.

Sometime around Mother’s Day is when I usually expect the first big run of Spanish to make their appearance. A week either side is when you’ll see big schools rushing baitfish along the beaches, wrecks and rocks.

These fish are very aggressive, hungry and can be caught in a variety of ways. My favorite way is to cast to visibly feeding fish. A light spinning rod with a 2500-series spinning reel loaded with 15-pound test braided line will suffice. Cast a metal jig like a Stingsilver or Beach Bum that matches the size of the forage fish and retrieve at a high rate of speed.

Attach the jig to your main line with a bite leader of around a foot of 40-pound test fluorocarbon line. This will help keep them from stealing your lures and the fluorocarbon disappears in the water. The strikes will come fast and hard and it will feel like you’re snagged in the middle of the ocean. This is a great time to break out the fly rod you’ve been thinking about trying in saltwater.

Use an 8-weight rod loaded with a floating fly line attached to a 9-foot saltwater style 10-pound test leader with a 40-pound test fluorocarbon bite tippet. Any small, flashy minnow imitating streamer fly will get a bite.

These fish are on the move and eating everything.

Another easy way to pursue these early season fish is to simply troll a deep-diving swimming plug like a Yozuri DD around the visible feeding activity. No extra hardware is needed beyond a wire leader of about 12 inches long to protect against that impressive Spanish dental work.

If you are trolling and there are casters around, please be considerate and don’t troll right through the school of breaking fish. Trolling around the edge of the schools will still get you bites, and the fish will continue feeding on top.

The first spring run is impressive but the fish will be moving fast. One day, they will be like stars in the night sky; the next day, it will be over. They won’t have disappeared entirely but the huge abundance will be gone. Then they settle into the summer pattern.

Summer is a little less exciting. There won’t be the mass panic of huge schools coming north, but the fish are still there. You may have to cover more ground to find them but you can catch them. You can still cast to actively feeding fish when you find them, but they won’t be as prevalent.

Light tackle trolling with deep-diving plugs will still work, but having to cover so much more water necessitates a higher trolling speed that isn’t practical with light gear. This is when heavier trolling rods and planer boards will come out.

Attach a planer to 30-pound test monofilament. To the end of that tie about 10 to 15 feet of 20-pound test line with a short wire leader. Put a trolling lure like the venerable Clark Spoon out there. Troll at around 5 knots. You’ll have to handline the fish the last bit of the way to the boat after the planer board is brought to the rod.

This is an easy way to fish and a good way to fill a cooler in the summer months.

Something I really look forward to is the fall run of “macks.” They will come to the beaches in good numbers most years and surfcasters can have a blast. I prefer a fast-action rod, 8 to 9 feet long, and a 300-series reel with 15-pound test braided line. Make sure you have a bite leader. I use the 1-ounce casting spoons from Stingsilver or Beach Bum and with this set up I can cast them to the moon. Retrieve at a moderate to fast pace. The strikes will be stiff. This will start to happen at the end of September and into October. The biggest Spanish mackerel of the year seem to be caught around shoals and inlets right until around Columbus Day.

Finally, a word about preparation of these tasty speedsters.

Cut the dark strip of meat out of the middle of the fillets. Don’t fry them. Use dry preparation methods. Best is to broil or grill them. Use a fish basket and cook fillets over direct heat. Finish with lemon butter.

If you have a smoker these will go nicely. Try a dry brine with 1 cup of kosher salt, ½ cup of brown sugar, add spices like garlic, onion, paprika, pepper or whatever you like. Put the fillets on a pan and cover with 1/2 the salt mixture. Put in the refrigerator for at least an hour. Flip the fish pieces and cover with the rest of the salt. Let it sit again. You can leave it longer than an hour. I’ve done it overnight. Take the fish out and give a quick rinse with cold water to get all the salt off the outside of the meat. There should not be any visible salt left but be quick.

Now it has to dry completely. You can leave it overnight in the fridge.

Set your smoker for 160 degrees. After an hour, brush a 50-50 mixture of soy sauce and maple syrup. Then do it again after every 30 minutes. Smoke for two hours minimum but two and half is probably better. This is as close to candy as you can make from fish.

This also works with small bluefish, which can be caught in the exact ways and times as detailed above.

Spanish mackerel provide fun almost all season long. The fishing isn’t too difficult, and they provide a nice treat on the table too.

The vegetables have been planted, grown and harvested. Now what?

Well, for starters, take advantage of all the fresh produce and eat yourself silly. And then … if you want to enjoy the summer’s bounty later, you have options.

Some fruits and veggies, like potatoes and onions, will keep, at least for a while on their own, given the right conditions. The ones that won’t keep can be canned, frozen, dried or preserved in other ways.

Canning is probably the most labor-intensive method, but oh, so worth the time and effort!

You will need canning jars, lids and rings, and a pressure canner. Canning is time-consuming because of the prep and because it takes a while to heat the jars and contents to the right temperature, and then you have to leave the filled jars in the canner for the prescribed length of time, then they have to cool.

If you’re going to do a lot of canning, more than one canner is advisable, since you can only put so many jars in at one time. Also, the cooldown before you can safely remove the lid takes a good while.

Knowing how much time all this takes, I asked my Daddy how his Mom, my Grandma, managed to put enough up to feed their large family, with Daddy being the seventh of 10 children. I couldn’t imagine her doing a few jars at a time, especially on a woodstove in a small cabin or later, a larger farmhouse.

His answer: Grandma didn’t worry about using a pressure canner inside. Instead, she built a fire outside and situated a large galvanized washtub on rocks so it was balanced over the fire. She then put her jars and enough water to cover them in the tub.

This method, called water-bath canning, has been frowned upon and has fallen out of favor — especially for certain foods — because of the chance of botulism. Grandma would keep the fire going and take out jars or put more in as needed. None of my aunts or uncles starved to death or died of food poisoning, so Grandma must’ve done something right.

The reason pressure canning works better and is safer for nonacidic foods is that, while water-bath canning will seal the jars, it can’t kill botulism or other deadly organisms that may be present. Pressure canning heats the contents of the jars hotter than boiling alone, hot enough to kill all the odorless, tasteless, invisible nasties that might be waiting to cause severe illness.

Despite the work, there’s nothing more satisfying than listening to jar lids “ping” as the jars seal while resting.

Chill out

Preserving your produce in the freezer also takes a bit of prep. For instance, corn can be frozen whole, on the cob, but this takes up a ton of room in your freezer. A better way is to cut the corn off the cob, cook it, cool it, and then bag it before moving it to the freezer.

A very smart person, probably more than one, figured out you can put the whole shucked and silked cobs in a pot of boiling water for about two minutes — outside, using a gas burner works great — throw them in cold water, and then cut the corn off. This way, it can be bagged and go straight into the freezer – A huge time saver.

When the whole cob method is so much quicker and easier, why do we do it the old cut-cook-cool way? Because that’s the way we were taught, and that’s the way our moms and grandmas were taught. Humans tend to get stuck in a rut about some things — in a rut with blinders on.

Fresh blueberries can be frozen as-is. Simply pick them, put them in a container, and freeze.

So how come some things can go straight in the freezer and others have to be blanched, or thrown into boiling water for a couple minutes? Blanching stops the natural ripening process and keeps the veggies at their peak of taste and freshness. It also kills any insects you might have missed while picking and preparing.

Some veggies and fruits are better canned, some better frozen. Much of it comes down to personal preference. And there are other considerations as well.

If there’s a hurricane or other reason for a prolonged power outage, canned items will be just fine, whereas frozen food could thaw and be ruined.

Other methods

Another method of preserving harvests is drying. Natural drying is tough to do around here, simply because of the humidity. There are tons of dehydrators and canners out there in all sorts of sizes and price ranges if you want to go that route.

Yet another method of food preservation that’s become popular is vacuum-sealing. Vacuum-sealing removes all the oxygen from the package, so freezer burn and bacteria can’t spoil your food. This method will keep food tasting fresh for a long time.

You have to decide whether it’s worth it to you to purchase canning or dehydrating or other equipment you might only use a couple times a year. Of course, if you actually use the items, quite a bit of money can be saved. You can grow your own and put it up, go to a farmer’s market and buy produce to put up, or just keep what you already purchased from spoiling as quickly. Look for units that can do double duty, such as a dehydrator that you can also use to make yogurt.

With your own produce, you can always know what was sprayed on it, how it was picked and transported, or where it came from. Our farmers and truckers do an amazing job growing and getting food to us, but germs happen.

There are lots and lots of ways to enjoy fresh-tasting produce for longer than the short harvest season, also including pickling and fermentation. So, eat a bellyful, and when you can’t stand the thought of one more zucchini or cucumber or tomato, put some up for later.

You’ll be more than glad you did.

It’s no secret what the glory fish are for targeting in coastal North Carolina. Ones like the speckled trout, red drum, flounder, king mackerel, and a bunch others are really the glamour fish for people to target. People get a lot of joy out of targeting them and some great memories and photos are made when the target species are acquired.

But I’m going to level with you here, there’s been more than one occasion when those fish have not made their appearance known in my boat. Sometimes “other” fish are the only things that show up that day.

We are going to discuss what those interlopers are, what they do, and what you may want to be aware of when dealing with them.

Aptly named pinfish

First, we are going to talk about the fish that “people say” is the most abundant species of finned fish in our waters, the pinfish, or Lagodon rhomboides. Of course, we all know what “people say” is not always accurate but I’ve talked to a few people who know what they’re talking about, and pinfish are everywhere.

If you have ever had a hook cleaned of whatever expensive bait you were using, chances are it was by a pinfish. The chances are higher when you’re using live shrimp and are targeting some large trophy trout or flounder. The only way you can avoid catching pinfish is by not fishing with bait at all. If you are using some type of cut or live bait, pinfish are going to get you.

When you catch a pinfish, first thing that you will notice is that they are aptly named. They have little spines like pins seemingly projecting from every corner. When you get them in, you should hold them in such a way that you can push down the spines from the top to the bottom to be sure your fingers are not getting stabbed. Think about petting a cat from the front to the back.

I have been told that in some places people eat pinfish, but in my experience around here, due their small size, any pinfish that you catch is probably not going to be worth the effort. They are a member of the porgy family, which in a larger species such as sheepshead, includes great table fare.

Skates, rays

Another common misdirection are the skates and the rays, or Batomorphi. One quick walk along any of our area piers or beaches will show you in a short period of time that most people, when they’re hooked into large fish that gives a really good kind of themselves, are usually hooked up to skates or rays.

The first time I recall hooking one was when I was fishing off of a beach near St. Petersburg, Florida, live-lining for the large snook that were known to be present. Well, that big ray ran out all my line — almost to the end of the spool — before it finally turned around at the last second. (Note: I ended up with a 20-pound snook later.)

Rays have an interesting defense mechanism that they use to protect themselves from their main predators — sharks. They swing their tails around and try to poke the sharks in the eyes with the sharp barbs on their tails. Unfortunately for us, they don’t know the difference between a shark or the angler that’s pulling them out of the water. I have a nice scar on my lower leg from not taking enough care while bringing a ray into a boat. It didn’t feel good, I used many words unfit for inclusion here, and that is all I will say about the episode.

I should point this out: Because of my bad experience with rays, take what I have to say with a grain of salt. But my No. 1 tip regarding these guys: Don’t mess around. With a big ray that you don’t feel comfortable with just cut the line. Don’t risk it.

No. 2 is a trick I see a lot on the piers. The angler will actually step on the tail of the ray to control the dangerous end and then work the hook out. After that, they carefully flap them back into water. Still, I see guys getting hit on the hand by that gnarly barb, so always refer to No. 1: Don’t mess around if you’re inexperienced.

Holy flounder? No, robin

Another “popular” species, is the sea robin, or Prionotinae. If you drop a bait to the bottom in order to catch flounder, chances are you will also get to meet the acquaintance of several sea robins.

Named for their so called “wings,” these appendages are actually feet the sea robins use to walk around on the bottom in areas of heavy current.

They are primarily known as bottom feeders but I have caught them on every kind of lure or fly you can imagine, including on a top-water fly during a false albacore bite. That was kind of a surprise.

They are relatively easy to deal with. They have a hard point on their gill covers, so be aware, and I usually flatten down the wings as well to keep them from getting hurt. Then I just flop them back in the water. No reason for anything else.

A pox on fish houses

If there were any single fish that I would consider to be a scourge, or to paraphrase ole’ Bill Shakespeare, a pox on all fishing houses, it would be the lizardfish, or Synodontidae.

When a lizardfish first bites, it feels like you have something good, for about 1 second. Then they pop around, and then it’s over. Any carefully prepared bait, soft plastic lure, hard lure, trolling lure, anything else you can think of, they will bite it and mess it up.

If you are trout fishing in a particular creek in the fall, and you catch a lizardfish, then it’s time to move.

I have had some massive strikes that I really thought were something good, and then it’s the same old thing – lizardfish. They are also known amongst many anglers by particular sobriquet that will remain unspoken for this purpose, due to the fact that lizardfish seem to be a fish without a purpose.

Other ‘others’

There are many other “other” fish, that we have not mentioned, the main one being sharks. Sharks are close relatives of skates and rays.

All I will say about sharks is, refer to aforementioned Tip No. 1: If you don’t know what you’re doing, then just leave them alone.

Some of the big ones can hurt you pretty badly, and they can bite their own tail, if that gives you any idea of hazards to watch out for. Anglers who know what they’re doing have a lot of fun pursuing big sharks, and if you don’t know how, find one of those guys and go with them. They will have all the equipment and all the know-how you need to stay safe — you and the fish.

In previous columns we’ve touched on seeds, soil, plants, insects, temperature, phases of the moon, fertilizer and pH. All of that is well and good, but once you’ve planted your garden, and fertilized, and watered, and protected it from pests to the best of your ability, how do you know when it’s ready to harvest?

Some things are obvious. Tomatoes turn red, zucchini grows into a brickbat overnight, cucumbers tantalize with the perfect length. Peas and beans fill out their pods, yellow squash flashes its bright gold amongst green leaves.

Sometimes you can keep track of when you planted and judge your harvest time by counting the days. If you know that said vegetable needs around 120 days to mature, then you can somewhat base your harvest time on that. Of course, days to maturity also depends on temperature and rainfall.

A lot of harvesting is personal preference, such as picking something at the size you like best. Some of it is necessary before the produce becomes too large or too old, or before the insects devour it. Sometimes not-quite-ripe produce needs to be gathered before the birds and squirrels decide to feast, the way you pick not quite red enough tomatoes and let them finish ripening on the windowsill.

But how do you tell when something is ripe when you can’t see the vegetable — a crop like … potatoes, for instance? Nothing wrong with grabbling out a few little red taters now and then to mix in a pot of new peas or fresh green beans long before you dig the entire harvest.

Keeping an eye on the potato plants themselves is your best indicator. First off, they will bloom. Anywhere from a week to a couple weeks later, weather dependent, the plants will begin to yellow and start dying. Potatoes don’t like heat, so the sooner summer arrives, the faster the plants will fizzle.

Once the plants begin yellowing, try to pick a dry time to dig your potatoes. The yellowing plants will absorb less water, so if we have a lot of rain, more water will remain in the potatoes. The dryer it is when you dig, the longer the potatoes will last once they’re dug.

Or what about corn? The ears are wrapped all snug in their husks like a bug in a rug. Corn only has a few days between the not-filled-out-all-the-way stage and the oops-the-sugar-has-turned-to-starch stage and you might as well feed it to the chickens and hogs.

Again, the hotter the weather, the faster the corn will turn.

So, how can you tell without wasting innumerable ears by peeling back the shucks?

With corn, the color of the silk is one of the best indicators. The silk, looking like Rapunzel’s hair trailing down the tower wall, comes on golden white. By the time the corn is ready, the silk will become brown and brittle, and some of it may have fallen off. The tassels, like feathery looking topknots growing on top of the stalks, should have changed from green to straw colored.

The ear should feel solid and filled out. Peeling back the shucks a bit and pricking a kernel with a fingernail should produce a milky juice, or sap. If the juice is still clear, the corn is not quite ready.

What about cantaloupes? Or watermelons?

With cantaloupes, the netting should be tan instead of green and you should be able to smell cantaloupe aroma, enough to make you lick your lips in anticipation. Usually if you check them and decide to wait one more day, the turtles and fire ants will beat you to it, because if you can smell the delicious scent of cantaloupe, hungry critters can smell it a hundred times better. The turtles will gnaw a hole in the backside and scoop it out better than a melon baller. Fire ants love to drill a hole and infest the whole thing.

Also, cantaloupes are like Snickers bars for coyotes. They don’t bother picking individual melons, they just use the vine to drag the whole plant with its attendant delicacies away.

Watermelons are a bit trickier. With homegrown, day count is pretty much essential. With store-bought, who knows when they were planted. Thumping, while advocated by many people, isn’t always a foolproof way to judge ripeness.

A much better way is to look at the field spot, or the place where the watermelon rested on the ground while it was growing. The field spot should be yellowish or creamy tan in color.

The stem should be brownish, and the pigtail, the little curly tendril that runs out to the side from the main stem, should be brown.

While we can’t call yellow sweet onions Vidalias anymore, because the only onions that can legally be called Vidalias are the ones grown in Vidalia, Georgia, we can still grow them. We just have to call them yellow granex. You’ll know they’re ready to harvest when the tops start browning on the tip ends. You should be able to see the onion bulbs anyway, because sweet onions won’t make a big bulb unless they’re at least half out of the ground.

Have you ever seen the gorgeous onions grown in Beaufort and Hyde counties? Mattamuskeet sweet onions are a type of sweet Spanish onion. They thrive in the black soil around Lake Mattamuskeet and are usually available around the middle of June.

Every time I read an article about Mattamuskeet onions, it makes me think about a book called “Holes,” a young adult novel written by Louis Sachar. Onions figure prominently in the story, as well as a dried-up lakebed and a lost treasure. If you haven’t read it, give it a try.

It often seems like things take forever to ripen, and then all of sudden, they’re all coming off at the same time.

While it’s hard to wait until crops are ripe, and disappointing when we miss the window, the waiting is well worth it. Nothing tastes like fresh fruits and veggies when ripened to perfection!

Coastal Review will not publish Friday in observance of Independence Day.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

Toxic exposure is a common occurrence in the military, affecting thousands of veterans, many years after service. Thus, providing compensation and free healthcare is a federal obligation to those who have served their country. Nevertheless, up to 2022, only a few diseases were presumed to be connected with military operations.

For most veterans, receiving compensation meant undergoing an extensive bureaucratic process to demonstrate exposure and prove causality in the development of their condition. With the implementation of the PACT Act, the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) recognized more than 20 diseases as presumably caused by toxic exposure during service. However, while this list is constantly expanding, the list of toxic agents for which a presumption of causality exists under the PACT Act remained the same. This leads to paradoxical situations, where some veterans receive compensation while others still need to prove causality, albeit these people suffer from the same conditions.

VOCs’ toxicity and military exposure

Volatile Organic Compounds, or VOCs, are among the toxic agents that are only partially recognized by the PACT Act. These chemicals are common in industrial solvents, degreasers, and cleaners, as well as jet fuel, adhesives, and certain paints and coatings. Given their properties, VOCs such as trichloroethylene (TCE) and perchloroethylene (PCE) were extensively used by the U.S. military for decades in equipment maintenance, aircraft cleaning, and parts degreasing.

Although very efficient in these operations, VOCs quickly turn from liquids or solids into vapor, leading to a high probability of being inhaled by personnel operating with these substances. TCE and PCE are classified as chlorinated solvents, widely used in degreasing and cleaning metal parts. These substances present significant risks not only for military staff using them, but also for their families and local communities due to improper storage and leakage in and around military sites.

There is a strong body of literature built from epidemiological studies and research on human and animal models demonstrating that TCE has carcinogenic effects in various tissues, including kidneys, lungs, liver, testicles, and stomach. These effects are observed either as a result of ingestion or inhalation. Noncarcinogenic effects have also been reported for TCE, with serious effects in neural and cardiac tissue. Similar effects are observed in PCE exposure, indicating a strong potential for carcinogenic effects. Notably, PCE’s impact on neural tissue demonstrates stronger neurotoxicity, especially in children, where exposure is associated with reduced cognitive capacity.

To date, the Department of Defense (DoD) recognizes contamination with VOCs, for which compensation is provided, only in relation to contamination from Agent Orange, a pesticide used in Vietnam, burn pits, and Camp Lejeune. Although various other military bases are recognized to have VOCs pollution, affecting both veterans and their families, these areas are not considered part of presumptive toxic contact. Pressure from the public and extensive investigations carried out by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) forced the DoD to recognize Camp Lejeune as a site of exposure to dangerous VOCs, including TCE and PCE. Similar pressure may thus be necessary to have all sites recognized by expanding the PACT Act list of toxic agents impacting veterans for years on end.

Exposure in North Carolina veterans

More than 620.000 veterans live in North Carolina and many of them have been directly impacted by VOCs exposure while working for the military. Camp Lejeune is now a well-known documented site where veterans and their families suffered long-term health effects due to prolonged exposure to toxic chemicals in the water supply. At the time when contamination was documented here, increased media attention and pressure from the civic society led to the creation of a compensation fund for those affected. Today, exposure at Camp Lejeune is valid for automatic compensation under the PACT Act.

While support is offered for those affected at this site, many other locations in North Carolina are known to be contaminated. For example, the Military Ocean Terminal Sunny Point is currently under monitoring by the EPA, while PFAS levels here measured in 2024 exceed EPA’s new recommended limits of 4 parts per trillion in drinking water more than three times. Despite clear evidence of environmental risk, sites such as these remain excluded from presumptive coverage and lack VOCs monitoring and impact assessments. 

VA pressures, funding, procedural inconsistencies

Since 2022, the VA has processed over 1.7 million claims and granted more than 6.8 billion in compensation to veterans and their families. The costs of this program are therefore substantial. Any new agent introduced on the toxic list will likely increase these costs. Yet for any agent dismissed, thousands of veterans’ claims are denied, even following long battles to demonstrate causality. This is far from a just representation of how the VA’s mission aligns with supporting and protecting former military personnel.

Recognizing the full scope of toxic exposures, including compounds such as TCE and PCE, is essential to ensuring equitable access to benefits for all veterans and removing inconsistencies from this system. With the EPA’s recent ban on TCE and PCE, the continued lack of recognition by the DoD may become increasingly difficult to justify. As scientific evidence continues to demonstrate the health risks associated with VOCs, expanding the list of recognized agents would represent a necessary and evidence-based step toward improving the integrity and fairness of the veterans’ compensation system.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

We’ve talked a lot about how to catch certain fish and what it takes to be a good angler. There’s one thing that makes a big difference to everybody. Others may not even notice or pay attention to these things. The whole point is that paying attention to them makes the whole difference.

Good anglers are concerned with details.

I guarantee you that the person you see who just seems to randomly toss a bait out but catches fish all the time is paying attention to something you or I may not notice. The little details count and add up to big successes later on. If you don’t see these things chances are you’re not going catch fish in a lot of situations that other people will.

Of course, careful gear inspection should go without saying, but years ago, skilled angler Owen Mulvey learned that overlooked details such as an unnoticed ding or a scratch can have explosive results. Often when a rod blows apart like the one shown above, it’s from pulling too hard with too much drag, or pulling the rod too far back. But even a gentle bump against a rock that can happen while rigging the rod could inflict an easy-to-miss injury with similar effects. Graphite can get very brittle when it gets a chip — I’m talking little stuff.

But beyond gear, the real nuances to notice are in nature.

Let’s start out with an easy one, there’s a fairly popular place to catch speckled trout in September and October not too far from my house. If you go there and you cast to one side, you will catch nothing but lizardfish. You cast on the other side, you’ll catch speckled trout.

At first there is no difference between the two sides, in fact if you didn’t pay attention, you might never notice. But on the good side is the outside bend of the creek where the water flows a little deeper, faster, and has an undercut back. On the bad side, there’s not much current and all that’s there are the aforementioned lizardfish. If you and I go fishing there, if you don’t pay attention, I’ll catch every fish and you won’t get anything, and that’s the way it goes with detail-oriented anglers.

Let’s go to a very specific night of speckled trout fishing with a fly rod. We were casting to big trout under the lights. For some reason we just couldn’t get a bite. I finally noticed some very small minnows — I mean tiny. I changed to a fly that I had tied for the false albacore run in the early season, when the small bay anchovies are in. That did the trick. For the rest of the evening we were catching very large speckled trout and a couple of beautiful citation fish.

If I had not been paying attention to the small details, we would’ve gone home without anything. Instead, we had a very memorable night that we still talk about today.

One of the things that I was well known for was fishing for redfish in very shallow water with a flyrod. It involves details on top of details. First, we had to be able to see the fish. If you couldn’t see it at all, you were not even in the game.

Once you locate a fish, usually by its waving tail or some more subtle indication, such as a glimmer of a shiny back or something else that, if you don’t know what you’re looking at, you won’t see it, then you need to know how to approach the fish within casting distance without spooking it.

Once you determine how far the fish is from you, then you have to notice the direction it is facing.

If it sounds like a lot of things can go wrong, it can. If you haven’t practiced your casting, there’s a lot of chances to mess it up. Not leading your target appropriately will lead to a blown-out fish – spooked and gone in a watery cloud of silt.

The very grass that draws the fish in, becomes an obstruction because it becomes very difficult to cast sometimes and you have to wait for the fish to move into an open area. But these very things that make it difficult are the exact reasons that I enjoyed it so much. Noting the details and working out the problems will allow you to catch a fish that other people may not even know of — that to me is the true essence of fishing.

On the most basic level, paying attention to small details will help you become a better angler. You should always check your tackle before heading out. Know how your line is, reels are, if you rod is about to break or something else stupid. What are you going to do if you hook a big fish? Are you going to be prepared? These are the details. Because if you’re not ready beforehand when the time comes you will not have success. All the great anglers whom I talk to all say the same thing: Have a plan, know the details, know how the fish are going to react. All these things are what make good anglers into great anglers.

I realize that I have talked about this before and in many different ways, but I really believe it. A big-time football coach doesn’t go into game without knowing every detail of the game plan from each and every one of his assistant coaches. A big-shot businessman always makes sure everybody is on the same page before progressing. The president of the United States does not assign people to cabinet positions off the top of his head without knowing what every person is going to be doing. You just don’t do that. That’s dumb.

There’s a reason that the term “detail-oriented” is often used to describe the very best of the best people we admire. You should incorporate that into your fishing as well.

As with any interest or hobby, gardening has its own vernacular.

Plants have unique names, sometimes specific to localities, such as the shrub we around this part of the coast call “myrkle,” otherwise known as Southern wax myrtle.

That’s where the scientific names for plants come in handy. Whether you call it “tallow shrub,” “bayberry,” “candleberry” or “myrkle bush,” the scientific name is Morella cerifera.

Plants can be named for where they originated, i.e. Chinensis means China, while Japonica indicates Japan. Some plants are named for the person who found them and made them garden staples. Some plants are named for their distinguishing characteristics.

For instance, our own beloved blanketflower, or Gaillardia, is named for a famous French botanist, Maître Gaillard de Charentonneau. Visitors to the Cape Lookout National Seashore may have seen it blanketing the sand around the lighthouse.

There are numerous different varieties of this flower, but most of them have a vibrant orange or red center with a bright yellow ring around the outer edge. Very attractive to pollinators, these tough plants are drought-hardy, salt-tolerant, deer-resistant and they thrive in sandy soil, making them ideal for coastal gardens. Gaillardias can be annuals or perennials, depending on the variety.

Wait, what? That’s a whole lot of gardening gibberish!

Gaillardia pulchella is the scientific name for the blanketflower most common around here.

“Attractive to pollinators” is self-explanatory — big words for nectar-rich flowers that attract bees and butterflies and sometimes moths or beetles.

“Drought-hardy” means these plants can survive with minimal rainfall or water.

“Salt-tolerant,” well, that’s another one that’s self-explanatory.

“Deer-resistant”… one can only hope blanketflower tastes horrible and eating it gives them a severe bellyache. Deer seem to devour everything else quite happily and with no qualms, and it seems like the more expensive the landscaping is, the better they like the human-provided buffet.

“Tolerant” and “resistant” are somewhat iffy descriptions. Neither means immune. “Salt-tolerant” means a plant can take more salt, either spray or windblown or around its roots, than more delicate plants that salt can burn. “Resistant” means less likely to be eaten but it’s not a guarantee. “Resistant” can also mean that even if the deer eat all the leaves off the plant, it has a better chance of rebounding.

“Annual” means the plant has to be planted every year, or annually.

“Perennial” — longer word = longer life span — means the plants come back on their own year after year.

Annuals tend to bloom over a longer period, while perennials usually only bloom for a short while. A good mix of both will insure a longer season of bloom time.

Just like flowers, vegetables have differing terms. Annual vegetables like tomatoes have to be planted every year, while perennials like asparagus only have to be planted once and then a well-tended bed can last and be enjoyed for decades.

Some descriptors for tomatoes are “determinate” and “indeterminate.” “Determinate” means a big flush of tomatoes and then the plant is pretty much done. Determinate tomatoes, while perfectly acceptable for eating, are especially great for canning or freezing.

Indeterminate — again, the longer word is a great memory jog — bear fewer tomatoes at a time but over a longer season than determinate varities.

Determinate tomato plants tend to stay relatively smaller, while indeterminate get sprawly-crawly, since they bear fruit on new growth.

Green beans can be bush or pole varieties. What difference does that make, other than one you don’t have to cut poles for and for one you do?

Bush beans, like determinate tomatoes, bear a big crop all at once. They’ll have a few more, maybe even another crop, depending on the weather.

Pole beans, on the other hand, need something to climb. While they don’t bear as many beans at one time as bush beans, they bear over a much longer season.

Another interesting gardening tidbit: Maybe you’ve heard the older folks talk about planting by the moon. What difference could the moon make? We’re not planting on the moon!

Within our insular homes, cocooned by year-round heat and air conditioning as well as electric lights, many humans barely notice the night sky, much less what stage the moon is in.

You have to figure that anything capable of moving all the water on the planet four times a day must also have an effect on everything else, so …

… while it may sound silly to let the moon tell you when to plant or harvest, it actually makes sense.

Phrases like “by the dark of the moon” or “on a growing moon” were once commonplace and people back then innately understood the references.

Savvy farmers would only plant on certain dates, knowing that planting at the right time resulted in better yields with less insect damage. Usually reserving days with a waxing, or growing, moon for above-ground crops, while a waning, or shrinking, moon was deemed better for root crops. Time between the new moon and the full moon is considered to be waxing, while between the full moon and the new moon is waning.

Not only that, but harmful insects often hatch out in greater numbers around the time of a full moon, so dusting or spraying your crops beginning a few days before the full moon and keeping them dusted or sprayed until a few days after the full moon can significantly dent the insect population.

Oftentimes, if there’s going to be cold or inclement weather, it’s also usually around a full moon.

The Old Farmer’s Almanac, which is getting harder and harder to find in print form, has long been a staple for information about moon phases and cycles. Benjamin Franklin, considered the father of the modern almanac, published his lunar calendar in order to help farmers.

In earlier times, some people would only set eggs to hatch, or get a haircut, or even start building or dig a hole on the right moon. While some moon-tales reek of hoodoo, a great deal of moon lore is spot-on.

While many of us plant whatever whenever the ground is ready and we have a minute, or a day off, paying attention to the kind of plant you’re installing and where the moon is in its cycle at that time can help you reap unexpected benefits.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

It’s a story Carolinians already know: The Trump administration is once again pushing to expand offshore drilling along America’s coasts. It claims to have a mandate, insisting that “America spoke” in last November’s election and that those results endorse the administration’s energy agenda and “national energy emergency” claims.

When America last had a real chance to weigh in on offshore drilling during the first Trump term, it spoke loudly and clearly in opposition. Nowhere was this more evident than in the Carolinas, where communities, local leaders and even Republican lawmakers stood up and firmly said, “No.”

In 2018, the first Trump administration proposed opening up vast stretches of the Atlantic Coast to offshore drilling, including waters off North and South Carolina. That plan ran headfirst into a wall of resistance built by residents from coastal towns and inland cities who came together to protect their way of life. Environmental groups, fishermen, small business owners and tourism industry leaders formed unlikely alliances to stop the drilling. More than a hundred coastal communities passed formal resolutions against Atlantic oil drilling. Those unlikely alliances bloomed into rallies, marches and protests for months on end. Their message was simple: Environmentally and economically, the risks were too high.

That opposition was echoed by elected officials, regardless of their side of the aisle. Republican governors and lawmakers broke ranks with the administration to defend their states’ coastlines. Former North Carolina Governor Roy Cooper and South Carolina’s Henry McMaster both called for their states to be excluded from the drilling plan. Coastal communities passed resolutions opposing drilling off their shores. It was a rare display of bipartisan unity, driven by the urgent need to protect local economies, natural heritage and public safety.

The high stakes haven’t changed. The Atlantic Ocean is home to fragile marine ecosystems including species like endangered North Atlantic right whales, sea turtles and countless fish species. Those species and ecosystems are under constant pressure from overfishing, climate change, as well as plastic, chemical and noise pollution. Habitat destruction from coastal development, bottom trawling and dredging further disrupts vital ecosystems. The oil industry could very well be the tipping point for our Atlantic species.

The damage doesn’t stop at the drill site. Seismic testing — the method used to locate oil beneath the ocean floor — blasts powerful sound waves through the water, disorienting and sometimes killing marine animals. Infrastructure to support offshore drilling brings onshore pollution, industrialization of coastal areas, and heightened risk of oil spills. And the closer the drilling moves to shore, the greater the danger to beaches, estuaries, as well as the tourism and fishing industries that rely on clean water and healthy ecosystems. Additionally, due to the proximity of the Gulf Stream in the Atlantic, spilled oil could rapidly travel thousands of miles, creating widespread ecological damage that would be incredibly difficult to mitigate. That’s thousands of miles of chances for oil to get on and inside the bodies of wildlife, leading to everything from hypothermia to ulcers and a gruesome death.

Now, the first public comment period is open in the 11^th National Outer Continental Shelf Oil and Gas Leasing Program, which the Department of the Interior will use to create a process for selling leases for drilling off our coasts.

The people of North and South Carolina stood up to offshore drilling once before, and we must do it again: Submit comments to the Bureau of Ocean Energy Management and demand that our coast be kept free from new drilling. Offshore drilling has had no place on the Atlantic Coast before, and it has no place here now. America didn’t ask for oil rigs off its beaches — and the Carolinas are once again ready to lead the fight to keep them out.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

It was a losing battle from the start, watching the inevitable rising and receding of the waves simultaneously fill up the hole I had been digging, and swiftly erode the accompanying pile of sand I had dug.

Perhaps it is an intrinsic childhood need to move sand from one location to another. As Sisyphean as the task may seem to an adult, sand is an all-encompassing playground; a place to dig in, sink into, and even to create your own tide pool/hot tub as the waves accentuate your enjoyment.

My first exposure to the sand with every beach trip was the arduous trek (for a young child) up the stairs of the public beach access point down Heverly Drive in Emerald Isle.

I would pause in equal measure to catch my breath and take in just how cool it was to be atop the dunes, peering down on the crashing Atlantic Ocean below. But my expeditions into the dunes as a child were limited to exactly this: brief crossings on established wooden traverses. The landscape of the dunes was dotted with sign after sign stating, in no ambiguous terms, to keep off of their sea oat-covered crests. 

Folks from all over North Carolina and beyond flock to the Crystal Coast to experience the sensation of warm sand on their toes, the waves crashing on top of them, and perhaps a shrimp burger (or 10). Whether or not they realize it, visitors and residents pass through several distinct ecosystems as they stroll toward the beckoning ocean. The first ecosystem is the maritime forest, where hardy Live oaks and Wax myrtles make their living despite the sandy soil.

Then you reach the dunes, where crystal skippers eke out a living amongst the stalwart grasses that stitch the Bogue Banks in place against the ravages of the wind and waves. Afterwards comes the open beach, which might seem like a domain reserved exclusively for beachgoers but is also one that provides critical habitat for nesting least terns and loggerhead sea turtles.

Lastly before the ocean, the area where the waves first crash on the beach is known as the swash zone, where sanderlings, a small wading bird, can be frequently observed searching for bivalves. All of these ecosystems are within sight of each other, and yet their differences can be felt the moment one no longer has a delicious sea breeze standing behind the dunes. 

Flash forward to the present day, and I am a member of a team of scientists tasked with flaunting each and every one of these signs, looking straight at passersby as we rock our highlighter yellow vests and our sweat and sunscreen-streaked faces. We catch our breath and explain to these folks the nature of what we are doing.

“We are researchers with NC State and the North Carolina Aquarium, studying a butterfly endemic to this area called the crystal skipper,” we repeat to various folks taking an interest in our work.

One of the most underappreciated skills required of us is the ability to clarify what terms like “endemic” mean or to satiate people’s curiosity about the subject while being fully conscious of just how bad we smell after a day of traversing the hot and humid dunes.

What is it like to walk through the dunes? In a word, or several, hot, breezeless, and saturated with ankle-seizing smilax. One step takes the energy of three normal steps as the sand inevitably gives way on your ascent. The dunes blocking the sea breeze is likely important ecologically for our skippers, but that perspective is hard to maintain as the stifling air quickly dishevels and frustrates us. For nature nerds like myself, the presence of snakes and wheel bugs as well as the opportunity to study a rare species are well worth the effort. 

To answer that aforementioned question about what “endemic” means, it’s a term used in biology to refer to an organism whose range is restricted to a very specific place. Marine iguanas are endemic to the Galapagos Archipelago, lemurs are endemic to Madagascar, and the crystal skipper is endemic to our own coastal North Carolina.

North Carolina’s barrier islands are famous for how thin they are, and the crystal skipper’s range spans a mere 30 miles of said barrier islands. We as researchers are fairly fortunate in that this range encompasses not one, but two state parks: Hammocks Beach and Fort Macon. This means that we have a considerable amount of public land to study this species on.

True to the moniker of the Bogue Banks, the species can be identified by the distinctive white “crystals” speckling its brown wings. If you are fortunate enough to see a skipper, however, in some cases you might see black markings on their wings. Those are the codes that we have written onto their wings as a part of our mark-recapture study, where we endeavor to estimate the population of skippers in a given area based on the percentage, we are able to recapture.

But our research isn’t limited only to the adults, we spend substantial time looking through the seaside little bluestem, which is the grass the skippers are dependent on, to find and track the development of eggs and caterpillars as they stitch the grass around them into tents that would make the Spanish architect Gaudí proud.

This is all in addition to studying the habitat itself, which encapsulates everything from collecting nectar samples to taking seaside little bluestem samples back to the lab to assess desiccation. 

One of my favorite things about our work is that we find ourselves with equal frequency in the backcountry of the Crystal Coast in remote areas such as Bear Island, part of Hammocks Beach, as often as we find ourselves in the backyards of, at times, residents and unsuspecting tourists. This seems to encapsulate the essence of both conservation and preservation in our project.

One of the most fortuitous happenstances in the preservation of the crystal skipper is that roughly half of its range is already protected within Hammocks Beach State Park in the Swansboro area, which encompasses some of the undeveloped dune habitat in the state outside of its two national seashores. This land offers researchers a chance to observe the crystal skipper in an area of land that is wild and remote.

While we hope that our work will help ensure the population remains robust, the lives of individual adult crystal skippers are not very long. All skippers emerge during two time periods: April through early May and July through mid-August. Insects as a rule are very short-lived, and the crystal skipper is no exception with a lifespan of only one to two weeks.

The nature of our line of work means that multiple cycles of technicians such as myself will study the crystal skipper over summers as ephemeral as the butterfly itself. And while the crystal skipper is immortalized through passing on its genes, we hope that our legacy in the dunes is immortalized in others taking up this work after we have gone. And yet, at the same time, the crystal skipper is always here in the dunes with us, even when passers-by cannot see it.

The caterpillars are going about their business eating, making tents, and growing as they wage an often-unseen struggle for survival against the ravages of hurricanes and the myriad predators of the insect world. This is a struggle unseen by most passers-by in the dunes, and yet forms of the crystal skipper are always present in and around these select islands. It was here before our study of it began, and hopefully it will be here long after, both ever-present and ever-ephemeral. 

The Crystal Coast is many things. From the least terns laying their eggs on the beach to the deft slithering of eastern glass lizards to the skips and flutters of our beloved crystal skippers, nature permeates the man-made structures of the Crystal Coast. It’s an area where the natural world and the human history of the islands are both preserved and lived-in.

The islands of the Bogue Banks are narrow and yet flanking both sides of the narrow dividing roads are natural wonders and all the facets of human life. We, the human race, are locked in an existential struggle trying to figure out how to balance our own needs with those of the natural world.

Existential crises are often easier to face when we can break them into bite-sized pieces, and I believe that by learning to harmonize human life with the natural world here in the living laboratory of the Bogue Banks, we can help create a template for how to do so in the world at large. All of that is reflected in the rare and humble crystal skipper, a butterfly that is uniquely our own.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Second in commentary photo-essay series, Tabb’s Trails, with coastal reporter, photographer and hiking enthusiast Kip Tabb.

It was a close thing, whether Jockey’s Ridge would be leveled for a development five decades ago.

If you find yourself at what is now the 426-acre Jockey’s Ridge State Park in Dare County, head north out of the parking lot and up one of the steepest dunes there.

In about a quarter mile, the disintegrating asphalt of a 50-year-old road is stark evidence that, if the late Carolista Baum had not stood in front of a bulldozer on Aug. 15, 1973, to prevent the sand dune system from being developed, a truly unique geological treasure would not exist today.

The North Carolina State Park System in 1975 established Jockey’s Ridge, what it calls the tallest living sand dune system on the Atlantic Coast. The Friends of Jockey’s Ridge State Park has organized a four-day, family friendly event starting Thursday to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the state park. The friends group supports the state park in Nags Head.

Related: Take a hike Saturday to celebrate National Trails Day

Details and the itinerary for all programs being offered at no charge can be found on the nonprofit organization’s website.

Jockey’s Ridge is a remarkably complex environmental wonder.

It is a harsh environment. Where the sand is deepest and most active, nothing grows. But one of the ironies of what is left of the road is the roadbed stabilized the sand, and as the asphalt cracked, opening the soil to the elements, small thickets of pine took root.

There are self-guided trails in Jockey’s Ridge State Park.

The Soundside Nature Trail is a 1.2-mile loop that begins at the main parking lot by the visitor center, and the Tracks in the Sand Trail is a 0.6-mile loop trail beginning at the Soundside parking lot.

Depending on where the hike is going, the conditions can be strenuous. Hiking conditions are fine sand and steep inclines. It’s not necessary to be an athlete, but reasonable physical condition is important.

Visitors can explore all areas of Jockey’s Ridge State Park, but there are some things to know while there.

Take water with you, especially in the summer as conditions can be extremely hot and there is no drinking water anywhere, and insect repellant is a good idea.

When hiking in the thicket at the base of the main dune, be respectful of nature. There are a surprising number of trails and no need to create a new one.

Among the dunes where the soil has stabilized, flowering plants thrive and insect life is abundant.

There are a surprising number of flowering plants that flourish in Jockey’s Ridge, perhaps none as spectacular as a mound lily yucca.

As the flowers come into full bloom this time of year, pollinators and other insects swarm to the plants, such as the trumpet vines, which are prolific on the hillocks throughout the park.

The trumpet vines are just one of many flowering plants in Jockey’s Ridge where pollinators can be spotted, including red-spotted purple butterflies.

As the foliage thickens in spring and into summer, the sound of songbirds, like the gray catbird, is a constant chorus. Usually deep in the foliage, they are heard but not seen, but sometimes they’ll make an appearance.

Following a prescribed burn in April of this year, the largest thicket, which could almost be considered a small maritime forest, is showing signs of regeneration as summer approaches.

The wooded area on the Roanoke Sound is in the wind shadow of the largest dune in Jockey’s Ridge, and extends a little over a half mile from the parking lot and recreational beach at the southeast corner of the park.

The colors of a blue grosbeak spotted on a branch in the burn area, according to Cornell University’s All About Birds website, indicate a breeding male. The species is “uncommon but widespread across the southern United States.”

If the hike is going to be fairly long and include the Roanoke Sound shoreline, there is considerable underbrush and walking through while barefoot can be painful.

Waterfowl are a frequent sight as well. In a cove off the trail, two mallards shared a quiet moment. The drake kept bringing its foot to its head in what appeared to be an attempt to scratch something by his beak.

The North Carolina Mountains-to-Sea Trail crosses the state, connecting the eastern terminus in Jockey’s Ridge State Park on the Outer Banks and the western terminus in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

Life along the North Carolina coast is steeped in saltwater – but the future seems to be drowning in it. With 1 meter of sea level rise expected by 2100, rising waters are already encroaching on low-lying coastal communities. Chronic flooding and intense storm damage have become the new normal. Stands of ghost forests, stressed to death by saltwater in the soil, announce a clear message: Move, adapt, or drown.

Folks who live here are figuring out how to trade resistance for resilience. Coexistence with the sea could become a bridge to the future. Bulkheads attempt to enforce a static line on a dynamic shore. The ocean continues to defy this hard boundary. The soft boundary of a living shoreline ensures connection doesn’t transform into fear, cooperation doesn’t sink into combativeness. Where do we start to build a future that works with the shorelines of North Carolina?

A rising crisis 

The issue of sea level rise is urgent and unavoidable on NC coasts. Where roads keep flooding from higher tides and ditches don’t drain anymore, “you’re seeing it. This is sea level rise,” says Christine Voss, retired research associate at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill’s Institute of Marine Sciences based in Morehead City. Even if they don’t use the phrase “sea level rise,” she says “people are noticing changes.”

Voss likens the situation to the health of a patient: “Sea level rise, that might be like your allergies… and then comes a hurricane. And because you may have been worn down by your allergies, when the cold or the pneumonia or the flu comes by, you’re actually more susceptible.”

She says that it’s easier for us to notice the big events like hurricanes, but really what we’re seeing with sea level rise is a cumulative effect of both hurricanes and a higher water table. Higher groundwater levels decrease soil’s ability to absorb floodwaters. The constant stress of waterlogged existence makes the coastal ecosystem immunocompromised. 

For properties that border the ocean, a range of options exist to “hold the line.” Traditional gray infrastructure manages the coastline with solely hard materials. This includes concrete seawalls and fiberglass bulkheads that act as armor against constant wave action. Fully natural, or green shorelines, include sandy beaches and salt marshes that fluctuate with the tides. There are also shoreline management strategies that combine gray and green elements, such as sills with planted vegetation or oyster reef breakwaters. 

Walling ourselves off

When threats loom, we resort to division, installing walls to armor ourselves against a fight with the waves. “We’re still pretending like we can hold it all in place for forever, everywhere…from Maine all the way around to Padre Island, Texas,” says Rob Young, geologist and director of the Program for the Study of Developed Shorelines at Western Carolina University. Fighting the ocean is a losing battle.

“Seawalls don’t stop the shoreline from moving,” he says. “It just sort of draws a line in the sand. Eventually the beach disappears in front of the seawall, because the seawall isn’t halting erosion.” 

This combative approach against the sea is destructive to the very ecosystems that would protect us. The erosion of beaches amplified by seawalls is paralleled by the undoing of marsh by estuarine bulkheads. North Carolina has restricted the building of new seawalls since 2003 to protect beaches, but bulkheads against estuarine waters are ubiquitous, and the salt marshes they neighbor are in danger. 

When a bulkhead is built, “the marsh is going to drown in front of it over time,” says Young. The waves bounce off the bulkhead and “tear up that marsh.” The impulse to protect our properties threatens the protection of our collective future.

Waves deflected by a bulkhead eat away at the land beside it, prompting another bulkhead to be constructed. Alyson Flynn, environmental economist at the North Carolina Coastal Federation, describes this hardening cascade: “it got to the point where people had no choice, because their neighbors’ property was causing their property to erode so much faster, because they had a seawall up, that they felt like the only way to protect their property was to also put up a seawall. And so then it had this barricading effect across the whole shoreline.” 

A wall necessitates more walls until we’ve replaced the breathing border of marsh. Eight percent of NC’s coastline is hardened through bulkheads, groins, and jetties. A survey in North Carolina found that waterfront homeowners perceived bulkheads as the most effective shoreline protection, even though properties with bulkheads reported twice the cost of repairing hurricane damage as properties with natural shorelines. Yet permitting processes and homeowners still favor hardened infrastructure in pursuit of shoreline preservation.

“There’s this tendency to think that a seawall is easier and less expensive, and that’s not the case,” says Flynn. “Especially when it comes to some of the maintenance costs with living shorelines, it can actually be quite a bit cheaper, especially after storm events.” 

Adding life to the line

Living shorelines, which replace the hard line of a bulkhead with opportunities for vegetation and wave attenuation, are a step in the right direction.

When Havelock homeowner Vernon Kelly looked out at the bulkhead on his property, worn down by years of storms, he had a decision to make: “Do I just replace it back with another and better bulkhead, or do I really look at creating another alternative?” 

Kelly recognizes the value of nature that he witnessed as a state land surveyor. “I was out in the coasts, in the swamp…everywhere from Jacksonville to Down East,” he says.

He has seen his North Carolina change, witnessed the bulkheads of his neighbors fail to block the oncoming ocean. With assistance from the Coastal Federation, he installed a living shoreline and has since seen “a world of a difference.” 

The nature Kelly treasures has become part of his backyard, complete with new saltwater neighbors. “Minnows seem to have figured out, ‘Hey, we’ve got a sort of a haven here.’ I’ve seen an increase of blue crabs in that sill area. And I actually had one oyster starting to grow,” he says.

The living shoreline didn’t just protect as a bulkhead would, it created space for life on that section of shore.

“What we’ve done, it’ll save it for my lifetime, maybe my kids,” says Kelly. “But if Mother Nature really decides she wants to do something, we can’t stop her.” 

Not a solution, but a start

Living shorelines can’t stop the ocean from rising, can’t stop seawater from creeping inwards from the shore and raising the water table from below. Development on the precarious line between land and sea is built on the assumption that the line can be held with stronger armor. The coastline is not a property line to be guarded but a continually negotiated convergence of ocean and land. 

The sea has sustained community here since the Coree fished the Core Banks and the Neusiok harvested along the Neuse River. Yet these life-giving waters are now described using language of wars and monsters. Framing storms and floods as opponents sinks us deeper into a combative mindset. We can’t hold the battleline if the ground itself is transforming beneath our feet. The coasts as we know them will not be the coasts of our future. 

Embracing change might be the only way to navigate the changes we fear. “People are adaptable,” says Voss. “Enough people have to decide that things have to change.”

The salt marsh has a lesson to teach about handling change. Many shoots rooted in the soil, united in density and scope, can diffuse the force of oncoming waves. As the saltwater rises, the marsh travels. 

Marshes migrate landwards, racing against sea level rise toward safety. Responding to change allows for a chance of survival. Marshes might not keep up with dire projections of sea level rise, but hardened shores don’t even give them a chance in the race.

When a migrating marsh hits a bulkhead, a line that refuses to budge until a storm forces collapse, the marsh is made static. Trapped between wall and rising water, the marsh suffers from “coastal squeeze” until it drowns. Confronting an inundated future, those on the coasts can choose to heed the lesson of the moving marsh or drown with the walls.

Living shorelines are not the answer to save the coasts but they are a potential action toward reimagining future coastal resilience. Relinquishing the ideal of a manicured waterfront is the start of embracing an alliance with the ecosystems we inhabit. Starting in backyards like Kelly’s, there is an opportunity to recognize the value of wetlands and begin to dissolve the walls, physical and philosophical, built between humans and the sea. 

Note from Kocher: This article was reported, photographed, and written in partnership with the Pulitzer Center and the science journalism course at the Duke University Marine Lab in Beaufort.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Never having been much of a science experiment fan — unless it was experimenting with reading different science fiction authors, — I’ve never heard of, much less participated in what seems to be a fairly challenge in common science, technology, engineering and math, or STEM, and the regular classroom.

For the “egg drop challenge,” the goal is to drop an egg without cracking it using various means such as cotton, sand, or other soft materials to cushion the egg.

But what if you want to deliberately skew the test in order to crack the egg?

According to a paper by Massachusetts Institute of Technology, or MIT, students? Authors? Professors? The summation of the article isn’t clear on this point, but any who… They’re at MIT, so they must be smarter than the average bear, right?

Tal Cohen, Hudson Borja da Rocha and S. Kiana Naghibzadeh spent a lot of time dropping eggs from different heights.

While it sounds like a rooftop frat-boy prank perpetuated on unsuspecting passersby, these folks were serious. Using a lot of scientific equipment and a ton of equations, they carried out their dastardly deed.

To be fair, they only dropped the eggs — 60 at each height — from 8, 9 and 10 millimeters. So … 5/16 of an inch. Almost 7/16 of an inch. Just over 3/8 of an inch. Barely any height at all!

Why didn’t they do a really fun experiment and see how long it takes an egg to scream when dropped off the Eiffel Tower? Or the Empire State Building? Or the side of the Grand Canyon?

Kind of wondering how much of a grant they got to do this. I mean, eggs are expensive. I can hear my parents and grandparents right now ranting about crazy people wasting good eggs on such foolishness. “Must’a been some of those high falutin’ college kids with more book larnin’ than common sense!” For some reason I’m hearing this in Granny’s voice from the “Beverly Hillbillies.”

Pretty sure I could most certainly be persuaded to drop a lot of eggs for not a lot of money. Apologies to my parents and grands and all the hardworking hens out there. Although, I’ve dropped quite a few eggs over my lifetime for no money, and I can 100% tell you that they break.

Whether they’re dropped on grass, on the floor, on the kitchen counter, height doesn’t seem to matter either. I’ve bobbled eggs taking them out of nest boxes and cartons. I’ve fumbled them off the counter trying to get them ready to cook. Once I even lost my grip on a full egg bucket. It slammed down like a parachute-less space shuttle recovery pod landing in the ocean. I can swear for a certainty, every single one of those eggs shattered.

Have you ever played the hardboiled egg game at Easter? Where opponents each hold an egg, pointed end toward their opponent, and then they smash their eggs together? Some eggs crumple at the first bit of contact. Some can go round after round before succumbing to the inevitable.

I mean, when people intentionally crack eggs, they aim for the middle of the long side. Is that because it cracks easier? Thousands of years of ingrained habit? Or is it because it’s darn hard to crack the pointed end of the egg and still be able to extract the contents without filling your now freed egg with bits of shell?

Not only did this distinguished crowd from MIT drop eggs from different heights so they landed on their sides, they then repeated the experiment by dropping the eggs point down. Some fat end down, and some narrower end down. Neither end made any difference in whether the eggs survived or not.

Calm down, Granny! I didn’t personally have anything to do with this travesty. (I imagine Granny brandishing her broom and banging pans around while muttering imprecations about Jethro’s lack of good sense.)

Their educated “Eggdicator” conclusion: Eggs that landed on their side needed to be dropped from a higher starting point in order to make them crack. Eggs dropped pointed end down cracked at lower starting point.

As far as I can tell, their theory is thus: The longer side of the egg has more give, thus dispersing the impact over a larger area whereas the pointed end is stiffer when compressed. Kind of the way an arch equals out pressure better than a flat surface.

But enquiring minds need to know more about the “eggs-speriment.”

The eggs were purchased at Costco, so would using farm-fresh eggs have made a difference? How old were the laying hens? Were they “spring chickens” or Miss Prissy?

The older a hen gets — somewhere around 18 months to 2 years old — the less eggs she lays and the thinner her egg shells become, which is why people used to buy or hatch new hens every spring. Hence the term, “spring chicken” used to describe something in the prime of its life.

While we’re on the subject of age, how old were the eggs? Were they fresh or months old? Somewhere in between? As my daddy sagely advised me a long time ago, “Best leave those floating goose eggs be.”

One has to wonder, no matter how smart people at MIT are, just how knowledgeable are they about eggs?

I mean, while the term “egghead” might be applicable in this instance, I keep getting a mental snapshot of Miss Prissy’s only son, Egghead Jr., scribbling advanced mathematical theorems but unable to play ball.

Really, really smart, but at the same time single-minded to the point of blindness. Or maybe Looney Tunes’ Henery Hawk, the loudly obnoxious and totally oblivious fledgling chickenhawk who knows he’s supposed to eat chickens but has no idea what a chicken actually is.

All joking aside, kudos to the MIT crowd. What seems to be a useless waste of time and food is actually a vital experiment in improving insights into varied applications. For instance, improving the design of safety equipment or improving the strength of buildings.

When you head down to the beach and look out at the ocean, what do you see? Birds. Maybe a fish splashing here and there. Mainly though, it’s water spreading out forever in every direction.

There are many methods to approach catching a fish in all that area, but trolling is the one that allows an angler to have baits or lures in the water for the longest period of time.

Trolling is the method to use when you know fish are out there, not necessarily relating to any specific structure, and not necessarily schooled up, feeding in a bunch. Having hooks in the water and working for a long period of time allows us to search along a current seam, temperature break, or offshore weed line, when it’s not obvious exactly where they will be. It’s an especially effective way to cover lots of water.

Keeping it simple

The simplest way to troll, and the way most people do it much of the time, is to simply drop a lure behind a slowly moving boat. A highly effective lure to catch Spanish mackerel, Atlantic bonito, bluefish, or any other schooling fish spread out over a large area, is a deep-diving swimming plug like the Yozuri DD deep-diving plug.

Keep your boat speed about 3 knots (1 knot equals 1.1 mph) and drop the plug behind the boat about 100 feet or so. No need to be too specific. The lure will dive beneath the boat wake and wiggle like crazy. If it’s working properly, your rod tip will throb.

There’s no need to add a trolling weight, planer, or other hardware, but a wire leader might be a good idea if you are fishing for mackerel or if bluefish are around. I’ve even caught king mackerel this way. Use the nylon-coated braided wire called Tyger wire that can be tied like regular fishing line. Tie it to your lure and then attach to a swivel. Attach your main line to the swivel.

When a fish hits, it will be a satisfying bend back of the rod. A nice-sized fish will be attached to you straight up with no intervening gear. It’s a fun way to troll. I’ve also caught fish doing this from time to time with a small casting spoon, a lead-head jig, or a fly on a fly rod, while looking for surface feeders. Even a dedicated caster finds it fun. On a small boat without all the bells and whistles, this is the way to go.

Getting serious

As with all things to do with fishing, however, we can make it as complicated as we want to, and we do when we start to take things more seriously. Tournament king mackerel trolling will easily see six rods being fished at once. If not set up properly, this can result in tremendous tangles.

Most tournament anglers like to use matched tackle and line, so it all behaves the same way in the water. Heavier line may produce more drag than thinner line making it move differently in the water and possibly causing a snag. The rods, reels and lines will all be the same.

Capt. Matt Paylor of Sound N Sea Charters in Morehead City likes to use five lines “staggered at different lengths behind the boat.”

Put the first out at 100 feet, on the other side set it at 75 feet. Bigger boats may use outriggers to increase the spread. Next, they will have a downrigger with a bait set about two-thirds of the way to the bottom.

Some may recommend using two downriggers, but Paylor says, “I rarely do two downriggers, because the chance of getting tangled is too high when using live bait due them swimming around each other.”

Finally, there will be two lines down the center, one 30 feet back and the other 15 feet back.

This staggering of depths and distances helps prevent tangles and covers all the angles from which a fish could approach the trolled baits.

Normally, the bait used will be live menhaden. Troll at a speed that allows the bait to swim without being pulled off the hooks or getting beat up too badly.

“Troll around two miles per hour, but that can vary based on sea condition,” Paylor said, clarifying that rougher seas require slower speeds. “We like to have a few bluefish in the live well also.”

Dead bait options include cigar minnows and sardines, but the best is a ribbonfish.

When a king hits, line will scream off the reel. On hookup with a big fish, the crew will clear the other lines.

“We try to leave one out for a chance to double up. We fight the fish from the bow, so one line can keep fishing out of the stern,” Paylor said.

Trolling with this method can result in some surprising bycatch, such as sharks (too often) but also cobia, amberjack, citation-sized Spanish mackerel and the occasional wahoo.

Mahi-mahi along the weed line

Dolphinfish, or Coryphaena hippurus, aka mahi-mahi, is a species best pursued via trolling. When sargassum weed spreads out along a current edge, it can result in a weed line that stretches miles. Fish can be anywhere along this line.

Due to the prevalence of weeds in the water and the need to clear lines, it may be useful and more efficient to only have two or three lines out. Put one out 100 feet, the other around 75 feet and a third down the middle about 40 to 50 feet back. When a rod gets bogged down with weed it will usually be pretty obvious.

Fish a rigged ballyhoo or cigar minnow using copper wire to pin the nose of the bait to the hook. It’s a decades-old approach that is easily researched on a million webpages. If it’s really weedy, there is a method to rig the hook so the point is inside the bait, similar to a Texas rig for plastic baits.

It always seems that any problem you can encounter while fishing, somewhere, somebody smart has figured it out. Have another rod or two ready to toss a baited hook or jig when a hooked fish comes in, due to the mahi’s propensity for following hooked fish to the boat. You’ll see them darting behind the fish that’s hooked.

Sometimes leaving a hooked fish in the water will hold a school next to the boat for a remarkable length of time. In this case, trolling has not only allowed the angler to cover water in search of a bite but has also actually brought a school of aggressive fish right to the boat.

Be aware of how much fish you can actually use or save in your freezer, and don’t kill more than you need.

Editor’s Note: After Sam Bland retired from his position as superintendent at Hammocks Beach State Park, he joined the staff of the North Carolina Coastal Federation. While a coastal specialist in the 2010s, he would periodically write about his time in the field for Coastal Review. Now traveling the country, Bland drops a line every once in a while to share a new adventure with his readers, such as the following:

With the silent curtain of darkness kissing the horizon, we rode down the dusty ribbon of a remote dirt road in western Wyoming. The departing sun left a thin orange glow on the horizon, hanging low like a colorful fog. Straight ahead in the sky, a sliver of the waxing crescent moon grinned sideways like Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire cat.

Following the directions, we turned off the road and on to an eroded washboard of rocks and stones. With silent glances, we wondered if this was the right way to go. Soon, the path ended in a clearing where we parked the car. Stepping out, we immediately heard the clear sharp song of the northern saw-whet owl piercing the cool clear mountain air. Over and over, it called, beckoning.

Cautiously, we headed down the ankle-twisting cobble path, our flashlights leading the way. In the distance, we could see a faint glow of light suppressed by the walls of a nylon tent. Not far from the tent, a stand of fir trees stood tall, silhouetted against the evening sky. The door flap of the tent swung open and we were greeted by Noah Price, his face illuminated red by a filtered headlamp.

A contracted field biologist, Noah specializes in documenting the migration of small forest owl species such as saw-whets, boreals and flammulated owls. Stepping inside the dimly lit tent, there were a few chairs and a table. Neatly arranged on the table was all the accouterment necessary to band owls. A digital scale, rulers, clipboards thick with data forms, a tool box filled with banding supplies, clamping pliers, and a variety of short PVC tubes were at the ready. We — my wife Bright, and I — had ventured to this secluded location for the opportunity to observe the banding of northern saw-whet owls.

Saw-whets are one of the smallest owls, standing at only 8 inches. It is a fluffball of feathers weighing a scant 5 ounces, at the most. Although diminutive, it is a solid-looking bird with a large facial disc and stunning yellow eyes. With deadly talons, it flies the night skies searching for prey.

Even though it is rarely seen, it is one of the most common forest owls within its northern range, which includes the entire width of North America. Its breeding range includes the northern and western states, southern Canada as well as central Mexico. During the winter months, they can be found to venture into central and southern states.

In North Carolina, they have been documented in 31 counties and have been found wintering along the islands of the Outer Banks. High in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, there is a small breeding population as well. It is listed as a threatened species in state by the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission.

Northern saw-whet owls were long thought to be nonmigratory and remained permanent residents within their northern range. But in the early 1900s, a number of saw-whets were found dead after a severe fall storm in an area where they were not thought to exist. This was a light-bulb moment and ornithologists realized that these owls might indeed be migratory.

Many ornithologists were skeptical of their migratory movement and it took decades before research proved it to be true. To study migratory patterns and routes, banding programs were established. Using fine mist nets to capture the nighttime migrants, they banded the owls as they moved south during the fall months. The results concluded that saw-whet owls were indeed migratory.

In the mid-1960s, banding stations started using an audio lure to attract the birds. It was a game changer. Like a moth to a flame, the amplified song of a male saw-whet proved irresistible in attracting the owls. The capture rates were so impressive that this is now the go-to method for increased banding success. This was the flute-like song that we heard when we first arrived at the banding station, a recorded saw-whet song playing on a continual loop.

With their migratory nature more well-known, researchers are trying to unravel the mystery about the biology of these secretive owls. Being strictly nocturnal, these birds are experts at hiding during the day. They will seek out dense vegetation and blend in within the branches looking as if a knot on the tree.

Ornithologists have become enamored with these cute and charismatic birds with their big bright alluring eyes. Their large facial disc makes them look like a child’s cuddly stuffed animal.

Remember in 2020 when the nation fell in love with Rocky, a saw-whet owl that was roosting in a spruce tree that was cut down for the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree and trucked to New York City? Its charm undeniable, the unwittingly abducted owl became a star. The owl inspired the center to designate an owl mascot, Roxy, as their official ambassador. The plight of Rocky is also depicted in the Disney animated film “An Almost Christmas Story” as well as a number of children’s books.

Research on these owls has really accelerated over the past 30 years with the formation of Project Owlnet, a collaboration of researchers dedicated to the study of saw-whet owls. The project established standardized protocol and data collection methods to keep the research uniform for scientific integrity.

As we wait in the tent, Noah steps out into the darkness and walks toward a stand of fir trees where the mist nets are located. About 15 minutes later he returns with a saw-whet owl snuggly confined in a plastic PVC sleeve. As a cavity nester, saw-whets are familiar and comfortable in confined spaces. His headlamp creating a reddish aura, Noah went about examining the owl. Under his gentle touch, the owl calmly endured the inspection as if at a doctor’s appointment.

Each fall and spring, hundreds of researchers like Noah participate in capturing, banding and monitoring the movements of these tiny owls. In addition to banding the birds, their overall condition is evaluated. A lightweight metal band, with its own unique engraved number, is applied to the leg. The birds are then examined to record weigh, wing length, sex, age, fat deposits, and molting progress. Isotope analysis is also conducted to help determine specific nesting areas.

After the birds are released, as time goes by, information is gathered through sightings, recapture and mortality. The information is archived with the United States Geological Survey’s Bird Banding Laboratory where the data, along with recapture data, is available for researchers studying the birds.

As the most banded owl in North America, it is estimated that 400,000 saw-whet owls have worn the silver bracelet over the years. The banding helps ornithologists determine migration routes, when they migrate, peak migration, and how fast they migrate. It also establishes where they overwinter, overall population numbers, lifespan, and reproduction and survival rates. This information is essential for targeting habitat preservation along migratory corridors and wintering and nesting areas.

The data is also crucial when calculating the impact of climate change not only for the saw-whet, but for all owls. The North Carolina coastal plain is permanent residency to the great horned, barred, eastern screech and American barn owls. The short-eared owl is a winter resident while the long-eared owl is a rare winter visitor. Snowy owls are rare winter visitors during irruption years and burrowing owls are extremely rare as they have only been documented a hand full of times in the state.

Long-term variations in climate can result in more frequent severe weather events, hotter temperatures, habitat changes, drought, flooding and persistent wildfires. The impact these changes have on wildlife can be measured by what has been termed as “climate change vulnerability.” This is the risk associated with exposure to changing precipitation, temperature and severe weather events. For example, nests of ground nesters, such as burrowing and snowy owls, are destroyed by heavy rain events and melting permafrost.

Owls that are dependent on niche habitat might be forced to abandon part of their range destroyed by wildfires. It also includes their dependency on certain habitat types and their sensitivity to changing conditions along with their ability to adapt to these changes.

Some of these owls may simply adapt by transitioning to a different habitat, developing a taste for new prey or simply relocating to cooler northern regions. However, this may create a butterfly effect of competition that is detrimental to other species. Overall species populations may not decline rapidly, but they will be slowly chipped away as their habitat shrinks.

Eventually, if their ranges shift, they might be considered invasive if they out compete native species in that range. This is already happening with the expansion of the barred owl into the northwestern states and their competition with the Northern Spotted owl.

The United States Fish and Wildlife Service has concluded that their movement was significantly influenced by human activities decades ago. As such, they must be killed by the hundreds of thousands. Is this the fate that awaits other owls that might be displaced due to climate change? Historical ranges might need to be reconsidered and management practices revisited.

Since it is anticipated that owl species will be pushed further north with rising temperatures, biologists recommend that conservation practices be proactive. Conservation strategies should be directed to preservation, protection and restoration of prime habitats now rather than later. Even put out a welcome sign and embrace new diversity to the neighborhood.

Animals are adaptable, but it may just come down to how fast and intense changes occur in the future and their ability to adjust. Importantly, for the fitness of owl populations, is the impact of climate variations on their food sources. Will prey items such as rodents, insects, birds and reptiles be abundant in the changing landscape.

Under the illumination of his headlamp, Noah is finishing his checkup on the feathered patient. He blows a small puff of air onto the breast of the owl and a fine mist of powder down explodes into a crimson fog that hangs in the air. Startled, the bemused owl looks up at Noah and the two appear to share a laugh. As the feathers part, exposing the breast, Noah can determine a fat score that indicates fat reserves. Kind of like checking the gas gauge and how many snacks are in the car during a road trip.

Noah wears his passion for these birds on his sleeve like an epaulet. Enduring two months of long cold nights, Noah’s research station banded 321 saw-whet owls along with 68 boreal owls and three long-eared owls. With the owl in one hand, Noah finishes scribbling the data on a clipboard.

The wide-eyed owl stands straight, patiently awaiting its release. As we step outside, Noah asks if I would like to release the bird. I humbly accept this once-in-a-lifetime offer. Placing the owl on my hand, it holds firmly onto my finger, as if on a tree branch. I can feel its tiny talons gripping into my flesh.

Face to face, the deadly eyes of this fierce hunter shoots daggers into my soul anchoring a lasting memory. In an instant, it launches from my hand and lands on a low branch of a nearby fir tree. It gathers and composes itself, then flies off into a dark and uncertain future.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

The Outer Banks is known for its beautiful coastline and rich ecosystems, drawing millions of visitors each year. Millions of dollars in tax and business revenue are collected as a result. Unfortunately, beach erosion poses a significant challenge to homeowners, business owners and vacationers along the barrier islands, particularly those in Rodanthe. Last year, the community lost seven oceanfront homes, a record high and an indicator of a worsening problem.

Beach erosion, which has occurred for millions of years, is the defined result of changing sea levels, currents, wind patterns, and severe weather events. In fact, the Outer Banks would not exist if not for this natural process. However, erosion is consuming as much as 15 feet of shoreline each year along the Cape Hatteras National Seashore.

To preserve structures in place, federal, state, and local governments have launched coordinated responses, investing heavily in beach nourishment, inlet relocation, and terminal groin projects in a race against the sea. To put the severity of this issue into perspective, a 2020 review by the North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality’s (NC DEQ) Division of Coastal Management found that nearly 9,000 oceanfront structures are at risk.

Despite the growing problem, many property owners are forced to wait until their home collapses before they can file a claim through the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP). Shoreline erosion damages are excluded from standard homeowners’ insurance, and the NFIP only covers flood-related damages, creating confusion and prohibiting proactive planning.

That is why I introduced the Preventing Environmental Hazards Act, a commonsense bill to address the unfortunate reality of beach erosion coastal homeowners face. The bipartisan legislation would authorize NFIP compensation for structures condemned due to chronic erosion or unusual flooding and allow advance payouts for demolition or relocation of up to 40% of the home’s value, capped at $250,000 – the same terms as current NFIP policy. The purpose here is to use the money to remove the structure before it collapses, rather than wait until it creates an environmental disaster.

As erosion continues to accelerate, thousands of homes across the Outer Banks are at severe risk of being swept away by the sea. Additionally, when a home collapses, debris can spread up to fifteen miles along the coast, contaminating groundwater through failing septic systems, harming aquatic species, shorebirds, and their habitats, posing safety risks to beach visitors, and creating other serious environmental hazards. Our coastal communities cannot afford a delay any longer for proactive solutions to address these challenges.

Since coming to Congress, I have worked tirelessly to address the challenges created by our shifting shoreline, meeting regularly with local officials, representatives from NC DEQ, and the National Park Service. It is a privilege and a top priority of mine to secure federal funding to help cover the cost of projects to protect our beach communities. However, mitigation programs intended to protect threatened homes are often slow, suboptimal, and difficult to access. Advance NFIP payouts will empower homeowners by providing flexibility to prepare for or recover from natural disasters while at the same time mitigating risks to beachgoers and mariners.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

With the advent of spring, the insects have sprung!

Just about the time the pollen is letting up and the weather gets nice enough to enjoy being outside — right before the heat and humidity settle in for the long haul — the insect hordes swarm in full force.

Ever notice how there are two kinds of bugs?

Two? Are you crazy? There are actually billions of kinds of multi-legged, winged or not-winged creepy crawlies out there. And most of them reside in eastern North Carolina, just in case you haven’t noticed.

I say two kinds as in the ones we love and the ones we loathe.

Everybody loves ladybugs (Coccinellidae), lightning bugs (Lampyridae), honeybees (Apis mellifera), dragonflies (Anisoptera), and butterflies (Lepidoptera).

On the flip side, pretty much everyone loathes wasps (Vespidae), carpenter bees (Xylocopa), mosquitoes (Anopheles), our ever-popular clouds of gnats, also known as no-see-ums (Culicoides), yellow flies (Diachlorus ferrugatus), and greenheads (Tabanus nigrovittatus).

Why can’t there just be good bugs?

Well, the answer to that is kind of like vegetables, flowers, plants and weeds. Every plant is a weed somewhere. The definition of a weed is literally a plant that is growing where it isn’t wanted.

Same with insects. Like vegetables and flowers, we spend a lot of time and money planting and nurturing versus the free, flourishing weeds we spray, hoe, dig, mow and cuss. Everything has a place. Doesn’t mean we always like that place.

If you spray weed killer in your flowerbeds or vegetable garden, the coveted plants you planted will die right alongside the aggravating volunteer weeds because the “weed killer” doesn’t make any distinction between weeds you want and weeds you don’t.

Same with insects. Whether we like them or not, insects definitely have their place. While we tend to like the cute ones and dislike the bitey ones, we don’t get much choice in which ones we get to have.

If you pay attention, insects can tell you a lot. Many of them are indicators, and by noticing their presence or absence, you can figure out what you need to do.

We might not necessarily enjoy mosquitoes and biting flies, but birds and bats and spiders and lizards and toads love noshing on them. Humans love swallows and dragonflies and such, but as much as we don’t like some bugs, the critters have to have something to eat.

Wasps, for instance. Nasty things with a nasty sting! What good are they?

Lots, as it stands, er, flies.

Bullies that they are, if you notice wasps hovering around your shrubs, pay attention. While wasps can nest in shrubs, oftentimes seeing wasps indicates your shrubs have a pest problem. Wasps feed on the sticky sap aphids and scales produce, called honeydew.

Same with your garden. If you see wasps buzzing around your cabbage or field peas, they’re hunting caterpillars and moths. Sometimes wasps eat the moths or caterpillars, sometimes they sting and stun the caterpillars. Flying the stunned worm back to their nest, the wasp can either chop it in little pieces to feed to its young or … The wasp can shove the caterpillar into a cell and lay an egg on the caterpillar so when the baby wasp hatches, it has a readymade buffet all lined up.

Kind of makes you feel sorry for the moths and caterpillars.

We don’t often think about moths as pollinators, but they can be. They can also be destructive pests.

Just like spotting wasps around your shrubs can indicate potential issues, any sign of what we typically and erroneously call miller moths (Acronicta leporina) but are in reality pantry moths (Plodia interpunctella) in your kitchen or pantry means you need to check all your perishable staples: flour, cornmeal, rice, pastas, cereals, and nuts. 

Pantry moths, sometimes called Indianmeal moths, can chew through cardboard and plastic to lay their eggs, which hatch into tiny caterpillars. You may notice web-looking growths inside boxes or in your pantry. Clean well with soapy water or vinegar and dispose of questionable items.

On the other hand, Luna moths (Actias luna) are absolutely gorgeous and don’t hurt anything. Only found in North America and one of the largest moths we have, these shy, nocturnal beauties are often attracted to outside lights. You’ll know them by their seafoam green color and 4- to 7-inch wingspan.

If you see aphids, ladybugs won’t be far behind. One ladybug can eat up to 5,000 insects in its lifespan, which is usually about a year, if it doesn’t get eaten by something else.

Dragonflies feast on mosquitoes — Yay! — butterflies, moths, bees, midges and even other dragonflies. Dragonflies live somewhere around six months and can eat their weight in insects every day.

Dragonfly larvae, called nymphs and looking like premier denizens of the Black Lagoon, do their part to lower the number of mosquito larvae, or wrigglers. They also eat other aquatic invertebrates, leeches, small fish and tadpoles.

Where the insects are, there also will be birds of every description. Some birds will eat any insect, while others are choosier. Long beloved for their insect eating capabilities as well as their aerial acrobatics, purple martins (Progne subis), seem to enjoy being around people.

In a mutually beneficial partnership, humans have learned to put up gourds or martin houses to encourage these insect exterminators to nest close by. The swallows, in what is called a synanthropic relationship, have adapted to live near and benefit from the proximity of humans.

Those little bats you see flittering and chittering around your yard at dusk — probably evening bats (Nycticeius humeralis) or eastern red bats (Lasiurus borealis) — are worth their weight in gold. North Carolina has 17 species of bats. A single big brown bat (Eptesicus fuscus) can devour between 3,000 and 7,000 mosquitoes a night!

While it’s instinctive for humans to want to destroy wasp nests, or stomp spiders, or spray insecticide on everything in sight, as long as the creepy crawlies stay outside and aren’t directly bothering us or damaging our food sources, sometimes we’re better off leaving them alone and letting nature take its course.

Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could plant gardens all at one time and be done with it?

Sadly, neither plants nor humans are geared to do that.

It’s a good thing gardening is a labor of love. Kind of like raising a child, it’s a never-ending, ongoing process.

Sure, getting the garden planted all at once would be amazing. But there’s a reason it doesn’t work that way. Lots of reasons, actually.

Cold crops — cabbage, collards, onions, potatoes, peas, lettuces, radishes, and many others — thrive in cooler weather. Heat kills them, just as heat increases the number of insects that love to nosh on cold crops.

Warm-season crops — tomatoes, peppers, squashes, green beans and a host of others — can’t take cold, but again, heat increases the number of insects and diseases.

While gardening would definitely be easier and humans might prefer a one-and-done, the disparity insures we have food year-round.

Before there were grocery stores with year-round produce sourced from all over the world, people ate what was local and in season. And hopefully, they canned or dried or otherwise stored enough to last them until the next time that particular crop ripened again.

If we listen to our bodies, we’ll notice cravings for certain things, leading us to search out that particular food. Usually a craving means you are deficient in some vitamin or mineral, and ancient wisdom, wisdom we’ve come to ignore in favor of chemical laden salty/sugary snacks, directs us to what we need.

Nearly unheard of nowadays, scurvy, a disease caused by a severe lack of vitamin C and easily corrected by eating citrus fruits, is ridiculously avoidable now. What would people do with no access to citrus?

Rose hips, the part that stays on the bush if the flowers aren’t picked and they’re allowed to go to seed, is chock full of … You guessed it! Vitamin C! Rose hips are most noticeable in the fall, and sometimes will stay on the plant all winter. Voila! Vitamin C with no citrus!

What’s one of the first plants to appear in the spring? Dandelions. Dandelion greens are full of A, C, K, and some B vitamins.

Think about this: Nomadic peoples followed the herds, moving along with the seasons. The animals, whether domestic or wild, constantly stayed on the move. This ensured a fresh supply of food and water unsullied by the byproducts of large animals scarfing immense quantities of grasses and shrubby plants. Not only that, it kept internal parasites to a minimum because most parasites are expelled in feces and then remain in the soil, ready to infect the next hapless victim. Constant movement ensured longer periods between grazing, thus giving the parasites less of a chance to survive.

Humans, used to following the movements of their mobile food sources, took advantage of the ever-changing variety of foods as well. Berries, fish, game, nuts — whatever was in season, just like the critters they followed.

Is that an easy life? No.

Remaining stationary is much easier than staying on the move all the time, even though nomadic peoples have breaking down and setting up camp down to a science. Staying in one place gives humans a chance to grow crops instead of depending solely on foraging.

Both lifestyles are all about timing.

Nomadic peoples have to be at the right place at the right time: when a certain fruit is ripe, when fish are spawning and easy prey, when edible and medicinal plants are at their peak.

Staying in one place and growing a garden — while still foraging locally —  means a steadier supply of food, provided you’re a good gardener and the weather cooperates. If there’s a drought, or floods, or unseasonably hot or cold weather, it doesn’t matter how good a gardener you are, which is where knowing how to forage or hunt becomes critical.

But staying in one place means you still have to follow growing cycles. When cole crops are phasing out, warm-season crops should be just getting started.

So how do you know when to plant? In our area, we’re blessed with two growing seasons every year. While we can plant cold crops in late winter or early spring, we can get another crop in about the middle of September.

Same with warm-season crops. We can do an early spring crop, and do one later in the summer that usually lasts until frost.

Timing is critical in spring crops. We need to be past the danger of frost, while still getting the crops to set blossoms and mature before the summer heat sets in.

There are endless old sayings about when to plant, with Easter being the most used. Never on a set date, Easter is always the first Sunday after the last full moon after the 21st of March. Partly because there’s always more extreme weather around a full moon, and partly because you want to get your warm-season stuff out as close to the full moon in April as you can. That way it has a month to grow and get stronger before the next full moon hits. While they’re always about, insects hatch out in greater numbers around a full moon.

Among the many sayings about when to safely plant so you can avoid frost, these are some favorites: When the dogwoods bloom. When pecan leaves are the size of a mouse’s ear. When the oaks leaf out. When you hear a whippoorwill. When grapevines leaf out. When the bats come out.

While these are never a failsafe, the older folks noticed patterns and judged planting times accordingly.

Leading to many catchy tried and true sayings, the older people heeded weather, and migratory patterns of birds and animals. What phase the moon was in. Where the sun was in its yearly back and forth between solstices.

Like the old adage “red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red in the morning, sailors take warning,” paying heed to hard-learned words of wisdom is a wise thing to do.

Often mistaken for moss, lichens are actually quite different.

Like mosses, lichens are found all over the world, with somewhere between 12-18,000 known varieties. The number is probably way more, as new specimens are being discovered every year. America has 3,600 different named lichens, while North Carolina has 1,500 all on its own.

Often, lichens grow on trees or rocks or on the ground, the same way mosses do. Lichens provide many of the same functions as mosses. Birds and animals utilize lichens and mosses for food or shelter. Some lichens are invaluable to humans as natural antibiotics, antivirals, antioxidants, antifungals and even dyes.

Different lichens produce different chemicals, which aids scientists in correctly identifying the lichens, and are often responsible for the variety of colors. Lichens can be green, gray, yellow, orange, purple, blue, red … pretty much any color you can imagine.

Unlike mosses, lichens are not plants. A complex entity that consists of several organisms living in a symbiotic relationship, lichen can grow anywhere from Antarctica to the most desert of deserts.

The most outstanding part you see when you look at a lichen is the fungus that makes up the main structure. Smaller and harder to see, there’s usually green algae of some type, which can sometimes be responsible for the color as well, and often cyanobacteria, or blue algae.

The lichen, algae, and cyanobacteria are photobionts. That’s a fancy word for fungus living in symbiosis with one or more partners.

Lichens grow in one of three main types: foliose, fruticose, and crustose. Foliose has a top and a bottom, like a regular leaf. Fruticose often looks like tiny cupped trumpets, although it can also look like hair or tiny, twiggy shrubs. Crustose is just that: a crust.

If you’ve ever tried to scrape lichen off of something — your car, your house, your favorite shrub — you know it can be as tenacious as Superglue on your fingers … or that bumper sticker one of your kids slapped on your car and you didn’t notice until it had become at one with the paint job. While lichen technically has no roots, it can tag down via rhizines, fungal filaments that attach the lichen to its chosen surface. Others hang on by means of a holdfast, like an umbilical cord.

Lichens aren’t just pretty gewgaws. A great indicator of environmental health, lichens also remove heavy metals and pollutants from the air, trapping them in their fungus.

One of the first species to appear in an area, lichen often pave the way for other organisms. Growing in three stages, or succession, the crustose lichen appears first, followed by foliose, and finally by fruticose.

The crustose is completely flat and appears spray painted on a surface. Foliose then grows on top of the crustose, followed by the cherry-on-top fruticose. If you’ve ever been walking in the woods and noticed non-bark-colored patches on trees or rocks, some looking like alien life forms, you’ve probably been looking at lichen.

Extremely slow growing, at sometimes less than 1 millimeter a year, lichens take a long while to establish themselves. For untold years, the prevailing theory was that lichens were parasitic and harmful to fruit trees and such. That view is changing — almost as slowly as lichen grows.

Sure, lichen grows on dead trees, helping them decompose back into soil. Lichen is powerful enough to turn stone back into soil, albeit at a slower pace than we’ll ever notice. But does lichen really hurt live trees? Scientists are slowly coming around to a “no” answer.

Much like painting a tree trunk white as people used to do, lichen can help protect tree trunks from harsh weather, whether it’s sunburn or cold or biting winds. Lichen gives insects and lizards and things we don’t even know about places to hide, to shelter, to find food and moisture.

As epiphytes, meaning they get their nutrients from air and rain, lichens cause no damage to their living host. They might look harmful with their creepy appendages and scary monster skin and troll hairdo, but the benefits far outweigh the negatives. Due to their algae’s ability to photosynthesize, or turn sunlight into carbohydrates, lichens can, in turn, absorb those same carbohydrates from their alga. In return, the lichen protects its alga.

Lichen can reproduce asexually by shedding bits of themselves and letting the wind or critters spread them about.

This is where falling limbs and hurricanes come into play. Some lichens are capable of reproducing by spores. The spores can only germinate if they land near suitable alga, so this is a less surefire method.

Many birds, such as hummingbirds, use lichens for nest making. Squirrels and voles eat lichens and use them for nesting material. Snails and slugs eat lichens, which don’t digest in their stomachs, thus spreading bits of lichen to new locations, pre-fertilized.

Reindeer moss, or Cladonia rangiferina, which isn’t a moss at all, grows on the ground. Around here, it’s patchy at best, taking root in sunny spaces dominated by pine heaths. Other places, like the Arctic and Canada and Scandinavian countries, it grows prolifically and is the main food source for caribou, also known as reindeer.

Reindeer moss is fascinating, not only because it’s fun to play with, but also because it can withstand the harshest climates. Thriving on nutrient-poor, acidic soils, it can tolerate temperature extremes. Reindeer moss fixes nitrogen in the soil, and due to its low growth habit and bristly texture, catches bits of leaves and debris, which, in turn, enriches the soil.

If you’ve ever noticed, most pictures of lichen contain some moss. That’s because lichens need moisture to prolong their growth cycle, and mosses holds moisture.

While some countries have a long history of eating lichens in various forms, even to making flour out of it, not all lichens are edible. Some are poisonous to humans and animals.

Utilized for a variety of purposes that include deodorants, perfumes, antibiotics, toothpastes, and salves, lichen are a bigger part of our lives than we realize.

First in a new commentary feature, Tabb’s Trails.

Verdant and beautiful, coastal North Carolina boasts hidden treasures of nature. For the most part, the maritime forest reserves and parks that are found throughout the area require no special equipment or knowledge to explore, just a willingness to spend some time enjoying the environment’s beauty and the unexpected surprises it offers.

Sandy Run Park on the The Woods Road in Kitty Hawk is a 16-acre town park. The trail is a completely level, half-mile loop around a pond and marsh that is half boardwalk and half gravel and packed soil.

For birdwatchers, it is a small slice of paradise with a remarkable variety of birds in the trees and feeding in the ponds. For families with children, it is as good an introduction as there could be to the beauty and fascination of the natural world.

Spring has returned to Sand Run Park in Kitty Hawk.

Regular visitors for the past four or five years, the osprey pair have been busy repairing their nest that was destroyed in a storm last September.

As the weather warms, the winter residents leave, and there is perhaps no winter bird as ubiquitous as the yellow-rumped warbler. It’s rare to see one after April 1.

By Outer Banks standards, it was a snowy winter with one storm covering Sandy Run with more than 6 inches of snow. Among the reeds in the marsh a downy woodpecker found a meal.

During spring, summer and fall, the waters of Sandy Run are most alive. If there is symbol for the park, it would be the yellow-bellied sliders. There are also large snapping turtles and an occasional painted turtle, but it’s the yellow-bellied sliders that can be seen everywhere in the ponds.

For families with children, lettuce is a great snack for the turtles.

With abundant fish, frogs and food, blue heron are regular residents, but they are not the only member of the heron family to call Sandy Run home.

Especially in the spring and summer, green heron perch on tree limbs and deadfall.

Woodpeckers have been working on the trees for years. Red-bellied woodpeckers are the most common, although downy woodpeckers are seen from time to time, as well as an occasional pileated woodpecker.

Talkative, highly visible and ever-present, tweeting cardinals are year-round residents.

In the summer, the dense foliage of a maritime forest surrounding a coastal marsh teems with life. The intense red of trumpet vines seems to attract pollinators in extraordinary numbers.

Part of Duck Pond Creek, Sandy Run is a catch-and-release-only fishing site with three kayak launches. The creek connects with Kitty Hawk Bay, although paddling to the bay includes a carry on foot across The Woods Road.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. Morty Gaskill is a member of the North Carolina Coastal Federation Board of Directors. The nonprofit advocacy organization publishes Coastal Review, which remains editorially independent.

In 1976, a North Carolina Sea Grant newsletter sounded the alarm: large-scale land drainage was wiping out wetlands that protect our coastal fisheries. Fishermen saw their livelihoods at risk and 3,000 of them pleaded for action.

“We, the undersigned, being commercial and sport fishermen who use the creeks, rivers, and bays adjacent to Pamlico Sound and the waters of Pamlico Sound, petition the Marine Fisheries Commission and state officials as follows: … to investigate the effect of changing salinity in said waters upon the economy of Pamlico Drainage areas and to initiate proper controls to insure the continued health of commercial and sport fishing in this area.”

They saw it coming. But there was hope — state and federal leaders acted. For decades, farming, forestry, development, and fisheries co-existed under federal and state wetland safeguards — rules that carefully balanced economic growth and environmental protection. These safeguards didn’t create unbearable hardships; they provided stability for all.

Yet here we are again, nearly 50 years later, facing the same crisis — not just for our fisheries, but for our homes, businesses, and communities. Given the changing economic and environmental conditions of many coastal communities across North Carolina, it could not come at a worse time.

This time, the rollback of wetland protections isn’t coming from local drainage operations. It’s happening due to recent federal and state government actions. The Supreme Court’s Sackett v. EPA decision has dramatically narrowed the definition of federally protected wetlands. The North Carolina General Assembly followed suit, choosing to adopt the weaker federal standard instead of maintaining the stronger state level protections that had been in place for years. And now, under new leadership, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) is further diluting the Waters of the United States (WOTUS) rule, stripping even more protections from wetlands and streams that feed our coastal estuaries.

The consequences? More wetlands drained. More freshwater rushing unchecked into saltwater nurseries. More flooding. More property damage.

Costly gamble

History has already shown us what happens when we fail to protect our wetlands. In 1976, Rose Bay fisherman Troy W. Mayo spoke out as catches dwindled.

“Twenty-five years ago, I owned a 26-foot shad boat. We used to go out in Rose Bay, two people, for five or six hours and we’d catch 35 to 40 tubs of oysters—that was two men pulling by hand,” said Mayo. “Today you go out in this same area with a power winder and all modern equipment, and I’d be surprised if you catch 10 tubs of oysters.”

Scientists confirmed what fishermen already knew. “Salinity is a major ingredient for survival in the estuaries”; reported the North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries. Preston Pate, who studied juvenile shrimp in Rose Bay, found that freshwater intrusion “definitely disrupted the salinity of small creeks in the area. The result was a smaller shrimp harvest by fishermen.”

But wetland loss isn’t just bad for fisheries. Wetlands absorb floodwaters, buffer storm surges, and keep pollution out of our waterways. Every acre lost means more homes and businesses at risk.

In North Carolina, our coastal communities have already been battered by hurricanes, rising insurance costs, rising property taxes, lack of affordable housing, and an aging drainage infrastructure that can’t keep up with heavier rains. Weakening wetland protections only adds fuel to the fire. It shifts costs onto property owners, local governments, and taxpayers — many of whom will be left paying for flood damage that could have been prevented.

Commonsense approach to conservation

Those lessons from the 1970s helped shape policies that kept North Carolina’s wetlands intact for decades. But now, history is repeating itself. The rollback of WOTUS protections and the state’s decision to weaken its own rules mean more wetlands will be drained, increasing flooding, pollution, and economic losses.

This shouldn’t be a divisive political issue. Wetland protections aren’t just about environmental policy — they’re about practical economics, public safety, and community well-being. They help prevent costly flood damage, safeguard private property, and support the resilience of coastal economies that depend on fisheries, tourism, and clean water.

Jim Brown of the Division of Marine Fisheries put it best nearly 50 years ago:

“We love beans and beef, and we have a serious need to extend agricultural operations. At the same time, we dearly love shrimp and oysters. There exists a very serious need for imposing compatibility between the two. Can it be done? That’s the question. Or do we just keep plodding along with our fingers crossed?”

If we ignore history, we aren’t just crossing our fingers — we are guaranteeing a grim future for our coastal communities. The fishermen of Rose Bay warned us decades ago. Will we listen this time? Or will we, once again, pay the price for failing to protect the wetlands that sustain our way of life?

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns.

For as long as there have been humans, our species has gone through long periods of great knowledge about ourselves and the world we live in, an understanding that we, being humans, periodically and promptly forget and have to painstakingly relearn.

Knowledge can be lost for a variety of reasons: War with its accompanying disruptions, population-decimating diseases, or the climate becoming inhospitable to humans and animals alike. Centuries-long droughts, or excessive flooding, earthquakes, volcanoes, heat and cold have been the downfall of many a civilization.

Losing and regaining knowledge is cyclical.

Partially because of the Industrial Revolution, we’ve been in a long forgetting stage with centuries of hard-won knowledge pushed aside for the sake of convenience.

For untold centuries, skills were passed down from one family member to another, from master craftsmen to eager apprentices.

The Industrial Revolution, along with various wars and famines and pestilences, has changed many present-day civilizations from nomadic herders and more settled farmers to city dwellers.

There’s nothing wrong with living in a city, but herders and farmers need more land in order to produce food — not only land, but also the intimate knowledge of such.

Family farms, although dwindling in number, still produce vast quantities of our food. Other than farmers and herdsmen, too many people have no understanding or knowledge of the skill and effort involved, and sadly, even more think food comes out of the back room at the grocery store.

In reality, our food, whether it’s animal or vegetable, has to be raised. Whether it’s calves, or chickens, or vegetables, there’s a tremendous amount of time involved — and care. Animals have to be fed and cared for. Vegetables have to be planted and harvested. All of this has to be processed and shipped.

All of it is a labor of love.

Farmers have a deep and abiding passion for their land and what their land produces. They have to, for their job is no 9-to-5, heated and air-conditioned, cushy, paper-pushing profession. Farming is 24-7-365 and intensive.

Where am I going with all this?

Circles. Circles and cycles.

Hopefully we’re coming to the end of the forgetting cycle!

While many are willfully oblivious, many more are coming back around to respecting and revering the land that feeds them.

People are relearning how to care for the soil, how to plant and grow their own food, how to pay attention to the weather and the seasons to maximize their land’s potential. They are recognizing that most weeds have a purpose, whether as medicinal or as food, or even just a measure of the health of your soil.

All of those are seemingly simple things that our grandparents took for granted. After two world wars, and having been exposed to other cultures and other ways of life, people eagerly left their agrarian roots and flocked to concrete jungles. That’s because farming was, and is, such unrelenting hard work. After our guys — and gals — came back from overseas, many had no interest in staying on the family farm and working themselves to death, opting instead for city life, and an easier life.

But with that ease comes a cost, one many are unwilling to bear any more.

Sure, it’s easier to go to the store and buy a bag of potatoes, or apples, but those who grow their own know nothing tastes like fresh, in-season produce.

We’ve become accustomed to having produce available year-round. Most folks have no idea when a particular vegetable or fruit is in season and at its peak of flavor, much less how to get it to that stage.

Does growing your own mean only eating what’s grown locally? Not necessarily. What if a certain type of fruit won’t grow in your area? Should you do without? Cherries, for instance. They will only grow well in areas that have cold winters.

While most people nowadays have no desire to spend 12 to 18 backbreaking hours a day taking care of never-ending chores such as chopping cotton and suckering tobacco and hoeing gardens and milking cows, many are opting for a simpler lifestyle that includes learning more about sustainable farming in a small area, or even in containers, and keeping a few chickens in their backyard.

Also, people are again learning how to keep and use a sourdough starter. Some are even getting involved in sourdough to the extent of buying countertop mills to grind their own wheat berries into flour. Far more nutritious — just like homegrown vegetables — fresh-milled flour contains all the nutrition lacking in store-bought flour, due to its over processing and shelf-life-extending preservatives.

While during the past few decades, we had excelled in forgetting how to do things like permaculture, we are now seeing a resurgence in relearning what our grandparents knew.

They wouldn’t have recognized the word permaculture, but they lived it. Everything had a purpose. Nothing went to waste. Cleaning out the barn stalls or the chicken coop served the dual purpose of removing manure in order to keep the animals’ pens clean, and then using that manure as fertilizer. Whatever wasn’t eaten or preserved out of the garden was fed to the chickens and hogs, which then fed the humans.

Life has a rhythm, and our grandparents’ knowledge of where their food came from and how it had been raised was a great part of that rhythm. Those same core values are making a comeback, and we’re better off for it.

In search of easier and faster, we’ve lost that rhythm, that oneness with the land. We’ve lost nutrition and substituted chemicals. We’ve traded honest physical work for working out at the gym, or vegging in front of the TV.

It’s past time for us to get back to the learning stage. Here’s hoping my next few articles will help you, inspire you, and possibly guide you a bit in making your way back to being closer to the land, to understanding more about gardening, and being more self-sufficient, to living a healthier life, and maybe making your soil a little healthier and more productive as well.

Saltwater fish are tough. They have to be.

Everything out there is trying to eat something else. In that regard, a lot of them are pretty serious about their dental work. Almost any saltwater fish has prominent teeth and the ones who don’t make up for it in some other way.

In order for us to catch these toothy denizens of the waves, we have to be aware of which ones they are, what we need to do to be prepared for them, and how to actually land one when it bites our offerings. If you don’t have the proper tackle rigged the right way, some of these fish will be gone before you even know you had them on. Sharks and bluefish come to mind right away, but there are lots more.

Sharks present a problem. If you don’t want to catch them, they will appear and mess up your day somehow. They will steal your fish off the line and mess up your tackle. If they eat your presentation and you are not prepared, you’ll lose the tackle you spent time and money preparing.

I’ve literally had to hook a shark on purpose with a beat-up old plastic lure that I knew would immediately be gone, just to get it away from a school of redfish I was pursuing. However, if you look at them as a target to be pursued themselves, they can present great sport on their own and a couple of the ones we have are awesome gamefish in their own right.

Blacktips will jump and run like tarpon and give a great accounting of themselves. The big bull sharks will try to tow you across the ocean and there are more big hammerheads swimming just off our beaches than the local chambers of commerce will ever want you to know about.

If you want to get one on the end of a line and actually land it, you need to have the right leader. All the fancy rods, reels, bait, and lines aren’t worth anything if you don’t have the simplest thing correct. Rig a leader for shark fishing with six feet of 14-guage stainless steel wire. Twist one end onto a circle hook of at least size 16/0 (circle hooks are required in North Carolina when fishing for sharks). The way to do it is a knot called a Haywire Twist.

On the other end attach a 300-pound test swivel. Then tie on a 3-foot section of very heavy monofilament and attach that to your main line.

When the fish is boatside, grab your heavy line section, not the leader, with a pair of gloves. Many people will simply cut the line close to the hook. If you are good at it, and you have an extra-long (and extra-strong) dehooking tool (the stainless steel kind that looks like a J hook at the end), remove the hook using that. Don’t mess around if you are not experienced.

Luckily for other toothy critters it’s not quite as complicated as all that.

The next big toothy fish that most anglers will encounter is the king mackerel. A rather specialized leader system is needed to slow troll with live baits the way most of the big tournament pros do it.

You’re going to want No. 4 or No. 7 wire. The clearer the water, the thinner the wire you’re going to want. Attach a size 2/0 hook first. Again, use the Haywire Twist. Now you are going to add a stinger hook. This is going to be a size 4 treble hook. Get the ones that say 4X strong on the package. Attach this to the eye of the first hook so it hangs back about 4 inches. The first hook goes into the nose of your bait, the second hook attaches in the back but some people let it hang free. This is usually the one that hooks the fish when it hits.

I’ve hooked kings on cast lures and jigged spoons when I didn’t have a wire leader. It’s over pretty fast.

This rig will work for you if you’ve never done it before. If you decide to get more serious, as with all other kinds of fishing, there are tricks the pros use that you can get into as you gain more proficiency. I won’t get into it here, but there’s a bunch.

Bluefish are often called “Yellow Eyed Devils” because of their propensity to show up when we aren’t prepared for them and steal the baits and lures we’re using for other species. Fortunately, the fix for them is proportionately easier than what we’ve shown already.

For our purposes, for the size blues we normally see around here, less than 5 pounds, all that’s usually needed will be a length of 40-pound test monofilament attached as a shock leader. Tie it to your lure using a No Name Loop knot. You can attach it to your main line using a Uni-to-Uni knot or simply by using a 50-pound test swivel. If you find that you’re still getting “snipped,” having some stainless steel leader wire that can be knotted on hand can save the day. It’s a product that you tie knots into just like mono and helps prevent bite offs. Get the 50-pound test version.

Spanish mackerel present a different set of problems. They have extremely sharp eyesight and the prey they pursue is often very small. This means that anything that is out of the ordinary or unnatural will be ignored. Or, even more maddening, they will swim along behind it and leave it alone.

This is when I will break out the fluorocarbon. A length of 30-pound test flouro will virtually disappear in the water, or at least the macks don’t seem to mind. Do NOT use a swivel. They will bite that and cut your line.

Cast a small jig or spoon into a melee of feeding fish and you should be okay. Sometimes one will manage to get you anyway. Check the leader for nicks and frays as you go along to stay ahead of them. Going to heavier leader may mean you don’t get any strikes.

Finally, let me add that I use at least 20-pound test leader when I am fishing with topwater plugs during the summer. This way I prevent cutoffs from oyster shells and any other various obstructions that might get in the way. Again, I do not use a swivel. I simply connect the leader to my braided line using a Uni-To-Uni Knot. Seems to me I get more strikes that way.

Having the right leader, no matter what your target is, will get you more strikes and help you land the ones that do.

Commentary

Dr. Donald E. Ensley, an accomplished public health educator, environmental champion, and steadfast advocate for North Carolina’s coastal communities, is in hospice care, preparing to leave behind a legacy that will forever shape the places and people he touched.

Born and raised in rural Belhaven, Don’s journey was one of resolute determination — breaking barriers as one of East Carolina University’s first African American faculty members in health sciences and dedicating his life to service. As a professor emeritus in the College of Allied Health Sciences, Department of Health Services & Information Management, he mentored generations of students, shaping the future of public health and environmental justice in our state.

I first met Don in 1982 when a mutual friend urged me to reach out to him as the North Carolina Coastal Federation was taking shape. I walked into his office at ECU not knowing what to expect, but within moments, we connected — united by our love of the coast, our passion for fishing, and our deep appreciation for the cultural heritage of our state’s waterways. Without hesitation, he embraced the need for the Federation and became not only a founding board member but also our first president. His leadership in those early years helped define what the Federation would become — a force for preserving and restoring the natural places and communities we hold dear.

But Don was never just a colleague — he became a dear friend, a trusted confidant, and a fishing buddy whose company I cherished. Over the years, we shared countless adventures, including a red drum surf fishing tournament we ran on Hatteras Island as a fundraiser. It was more than just a tournament — it was a gathering of kindred spirits, an experience made richer by Don’s presence and the fellowship he fostered. On Oct. 26, 1990, after all our participants had arrived, a wayward dredge knocked out the Bonner Bridge, stranding us on the island as a tropical storm raged. I still remember Don bursting into our tournament headquarters with excitement, announcing that a “ship” was pinned against the bridge he had just crossed — only for the power to cut out dramatically moments later. That was the last year we held the tournament, realizing that hosting a fixed event on an ever-shifting island might not be the best idea.

Back then, the Federation was small, operating more like a family than an organization. Our board and staff were deeply connected, and those annual membership meetings at the oceanfront pavilion of Hammocks Beach State Park were special times. We’d all stay the night on the island, sometimes joined by guests like former Congressman Richard Preyer and his wife. One night, we were all jolted awake when Don’s young daughter, Akilah, tumbled out of her bunk bed, crying out in the darkness. That moment — funny in retrospect — was just a glimpse of the love and devotion Don had for his family. Akilah has since built an incredible career leading a strategic policy firm in Washington, D.C., but in recent years, as Don’s health declined, she has remained a constant presence by his side — an unwavering source of strength in his final chapter.

Even after his initial tenure on the Federation’s board, Don never truly left. He returned in later years, stepping up once again to serve on the board, ensuring that we never lost sight of our roots. Despite his own health struggles and the loss of his beloved wife, Ramona, he continued to show up, offering institutional memory, insights, and steady leadership as the organization transitioned. His vision was clear: the Federation’s mission was not just about protecting the coast—it was about making it a place where both people and nature could thrive.

Beyond his work with the Federation, Don’s impact reached even further. As a member of the North Carolina Environmental Management Commission, he played a critical role in shaping policies to protect the state’s air and water. I’ll never forget one of the largest public hearings ever held by the commission at East Carteret High School, where Don presided over an emotional and powerful debate about a controversial plan to pump treated sewage more than 30 miles to eastern Carteret County farmland. Thousands of people made clear they objected to the plan, and after the hearing, the idea was abandoned.

Don’s dedication to public health, equitable access to resources, and community empowerment has left an indelible mark. His efforts helped build the Federation into what it is today, but more than that, his kindness, his tenacity, and his unwavering friendship left a mark on all of us who were lucky enough to know him.

As he prepares to take his leave, I find myself reflecting on the conversations we had, the successes we cherished, and the laughter we shared. I will miss hearing his voice and insights and experiencing his relentless determination. But I also know that his wisdom and his spirit won’t fade. They live on in the work he championed, in the people he mentored, and in the coast that he loved so deeply.

Fair winds and following seas, my friend. Your legacy endures.

Nobody wants to be a convict. However, the sheepshead is nicknamed the “Convict Fish,” and he is most wanted by anglers.

His black vertical stripes resemble the uniform worn by prisoners in old-time movies, and his ability to steal the bait off your hook — without you knowing it — makes us want to send him to jail.

The sheepshead is one of the best-eating fish we can catch within sight of land, or even standing on land. Their diet consists primarily of shellfish, like crabs, barnacles and shrimp. This translates directly to a fish that is as delicious on the plate as it is complicated to catch.

It takes specialized techniques and some extra knowledge of their habits and preferred habitat to catch them, so a lot of casual anglers may never catch one. Hopefully we can help you change that if you never have. Their pursuit is worthwhile because they are strong fighters, in addition to their table qualities, and it takes some doing to get them.

After the aforementioned stripes, the next thing most people will notice upon seeing one for the first time is the strange teeth that sheepshead possess. They have straight, up- and down-aligned teeth that resemble the mouth of a land-based herbivore — like a sheep, for example. These teeth are a perfect adaptation for the feeding technique they use.

Sheepshead will come up to a rock, piling or other hard structure, and use those straight teeth to crunch barnacles directly off the surface. If you look in further, you will also see hard knobby structure on the roof of the mouth. These are called crushers. Any crustacean that is unlucky enough to find its way in front of a sheepshead will find itself sucked back to them and be disposed of in a way that makes it easy to swallow.

Sheepies also have extremely long pectoral fins and a broad tail. This enables them to be strong swimmers and hold themselves in place as they patrol up and down on hard structure with a strong current running.

These adaptations inform our method of fishing for them. We need to be able to present a crustacean bait in such a manner as to get it in front of them as they swim up and down a piece of structure, and to feel the often-subtle bites.

Best baits are fiddler crabs, sand fleas, and, if you can get them, sea urchins. Fiddlers can be obtained on hard packed mud flats at low tide. All the little holes are made by fiddler crabs. Walk along a low tide and quickly pick them up. Don’t worry too much about the claws, they don’t really hurt.

Catch sand fleas at the beach with a sand flea rake pulled through the sand right in the zone where the waves come in and recede.

Sea urchins have to be purchased at a bait shop, if they have them.

There are two popular ways to rig. First is with a Carolina Rig and size 1 or 1/0 bait hook. Use a 30-pound test monofilament leader and keep it less than 18 inches long. The other way is with a bait on a jig head. There are a couple different brands of bait jigs, a popular one is called the Bait Sweeper. The idea is to get the bait to the bottom and have precise control of where it is. Use a rod that is light enough for you to be able to feel the slightest bite, but just heavy enough to keep your prize out of the rocks or pilings. I like to use a rod with 15- or 20-pound test braided line.

Drop the bait to the bottom as close to the structure as you can. Now slowly lift and drop down on a tight line. This movement will not only alert them to the presence of your bait, but also allow you to feel the lightest change in weight on your line. As soon as you feel anything different, set the hook quickly. Use the rod to lift the fish away from the bottom.

Most you catch will be under 3 pounds and will try hard but not be able to get back down. I have caught a few in my life over 7 pounds. The fight in those was as much like a grouper as anything else. You’ll know right away and they will stay down and try to get you wrapped up. They are formidable.

When you get them in, watch out for the spines they have on their dorsal, ventral and pectoral fins. I dropped one on my foot one time and the spine went right into my toe. That hurt a bit.

Keep a couple to provide some delicious meals. Don’t overdo it. Filet them and take the skin off. The bones are very strong so you will have to work around them. The best way to cook them is with a method called pan roasting. Get your skillet out and melt some butter over medium heat. When it is just barely sizzling, take a piece of meat that you have seasoned with salt and pepper and any other spice mix you like (the one named after a bay that’s not young is great here). Drop the filet in and leave it alone. Don’t move it around. Don’t flip it. Leave it on that side until you can see the opaque coloration on the side come up to just past two-thirds of the way up the side. At this point it will be ready to flip.

You will have a nice brown crust on the side that’s been down. No need to add flour or anything. Put a little more butter in the pan. When you can look at the side and see that the opacity covers the entire side of the filet, squeeze a lemon half into the pan. Baste the lemon butter over the top a few times. Take it out. Put a splash of white wine in the pan and let it sizzle. After a minute take it off the heat and pour the liquid that’s left over the top of the fish.

You just made a dish they’d charge $30 for in a nice restaurant.

Sheepshead should be available all through the season for us in the Carolinas. Use some specialized tactics and see what you can do.

Like lush emerald — or sometimes even citron — throw rugs or afghans, moss covers fallen trees and the forest floor in vibrant patches. It drapes over stream-bound boulders like a velvet cloak and fills cracks in sidewalks better than any man-made caulk. It makes excellent terrarium filler. It feels amazing under bare feet.

But what is moss?

Having been around for millions of years, despite its appearance, moss is neither lichen nor fungus. It is, instead, a bryophyte. Nonflowering, in order to reproduce, bryophytes produce spores. Bryophytes have stems and leaves of a sort, but no true roots.

Hair-like structures called rhizoids, while they don’t penetrate down into the soil the way roots do, attach the moss to various surfaces such as soil, bark or rock. Rhizoids also help mosses conduct and retain water as well as nutrients.

As children, we love the magic of moss. It offers all the sensory input even the most imaginative child craves: vibrant colors, velvety texture, lush carpet and pillows.

Say the word “moss,” and everyone knows exactly what plant you’re talking about. Mosses live on every continent, even Antarctica. It can take extremes of conditions, from snowy mountaintops to deserts. Moss can be found growing on trees, on walls, and it’s the perfect plant for green roofs. Because it can subsist on much less soil and nutrients than most other plants, weight isn’t as much of a concern when using moss for “green” roofs.

Moss can tolerate temps from subzero to extremely hot. Mosses produce their own antifreeze so they actually thrive in cold conditions. Too much heat and they just dry out, hunker down, and wait for enough moisture to revive them.

There are more than 12,000 species of moss, each one uniquely adapted to its living conditions. Because it grows pretty much everywhere, humans have utilized mosses for untold centuries for a variety of reasons.

Green roofs, generally consisting of a waterproof layer covered in soil and plants, are not new, just an old idea that’s come back around. Pretty much waterproof itself, once moss tags down, it makes a great roof covering. It’s also a form of insulation.

Dried moss can be used as diapers, or feminine hygiene products. It makes great tinder. Moss can be used to soften bedding areas, or to line boots.

Able to absorb 20 times its weight in water, moss also has antibacterial properties and has long been used for bandages or wound dressings.

Moss, mixed with mud or clay, is useful as chinking between logs in cabins or stone buildings.

Part of moss’ contribution to ecosystems includes helping with erosion and retaining moisture. Green roofs can prevent up to 65% of stormwater runoff.

Moss is a food source, as well as a habitat or spawning ground for many types of amphibians. Birds use moss to “feather their nests.”

Mosses recycle nutrients and provide seed beds for seedlings. By absorbing excess moisture, they create a better environment for the plants and trees around them.

A closeup look at moss is like looking at a miniature rain forest. In a manner similar to rain forests, moss is a bio-indicator of the health of the environment, going so far as to change shape and density or disappear entirely if conditions get too bad.

Among the first plants to reestablish an ecosystem after a disaster such as a wildfire or volcanic eruption, mosses help stabilize the soil. The way they hold moisture and retain nutrients encourages and enables other plant species to come back as well. The act of holding moisture allows mosses to also control humidity, and sometimes temperature as well.

Moss can keep the ground cooler in shady forests, or it can have the reverse effect. Sphagnum moss reflects sunlight, so it keeps the tundra cooler and helps prevent the permafrost from melting.

Moss tends to grow in shady areas with moist, slightly acidic soil. While many people loathe moss, lumping it in the same category as dandelions, it’s a great choice for a damp, shady area of your lawn. And it doesn’t need mowing!

Nearly impossible to eradicate, moss can be deterred by tilling and liming the soil. But, if moss is growing in a certain part of your yard, then conditions are exactly right for it to thrive, which means most sun-loving grasses likely won’t survive in that area anyway.

If you love moss, and want to encourage it to grow, there are several ways it can be accomplished. Moss is a creeper, not a leaper, so keep in mind it’s kind of slow growing. Optimal conditions will encourage faster growth, so keep it moist.

Moss often grows in clumps or in a sheet-like manner, so you can carefully lift the edges and peel some up — make sure it’s on your property or if not, get permission — and transfer your gleanings to the area where you’re trying to establish it.

Another way to encourage moss to grow, especially if you’re trying to get it to grow on rocks or brickwork — an anathema to moss haters — you can make a slurry and pour or paint the mixture on. In a blender, mix about 1 to 1.5 cups of chopped moss and 2 cups of buttermilk or plain yogurt, something to encourage the growth of spores. Let the mixture sit a couple days, and then spread that moss — literally!

Moss on a living tree usually won’t do the tree any harm. Maybe you’ve noticed moss growing up the trunk of a live oak or on thick live oak branches, covered with feathery tufts of resurrection fern (Pleopeltis polypodioides) like hair on a troll doll. By retaining moisture, moss helps fallen trees decay faster and become nurse logs, home to endless fungi and insects, which in turn feed larger critters. Upon returning completely to the soil, these logs may eventually only be marked by a bed of moss. Moss that gives new seedlings a perfect nursery in which to grow and thrive, perpetuating a new generation of forest.

We as anglers spend an inordinate amount of time obsessing about hooks, lines, leaders, baits, lures, rods, reels, and a whole host of different equipment and gear.

There’s one particular item or group of items that often gets forgotten about. It is unfortunate too, because this can often make or break a day on the water more than you might imagine.

Of course, I am talking about food.

Having good food or snacks available will allow anglers to stay on the water longer without getting tired and make everybody happy during slow periods that inevitably come along.

A quick Google search comes up with this result:

“A good fishing trip snack mix should include a combination of protein, healthy fats, carbohydrates, and be easy to eat on the go, typically consisting of items like: mixed nuts, dried fruit, seeds, beef jerky, pretzels, whole grain crackers, granola, protein bars, and even some dark chocolate chips.”

Back in my day when I was a full-time fly-fishing guide, a lady who fished with me a couple of times a year always used to bring some Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies. They, along with those fancy soft drinks from Fresh Market, were always a welcome addition to a day on the water. Thank you, Ms. Janet.

I recently did a very complex scientific survey (I asked a bunch of people I know), about the kind of snacks people bring out with them for a day of fishing and also which things they explicitly avoid. I got some very interesting results.

One of the main things that you’ll find in talking about snacks on boats — and in going fishing — is the displeasure among people about bananas. Bananas are seen as some kind of voodoo and will bring bad luck to all aboard any kind of boat or engaged in fishing or otherwise. I checked a lot of different resources, there is no one source for this belief. Snopes.com literally says nobody knows, so take that as you will.

Another thing that I have found is a strong distaste for things like Vienna sausages and potted meat. Apparently, people were stuck eating these things on fishing trips as a kid, and don’t wish to recreate the situation in any way. I have to say, I agree with them. There is nothing more disgusting than Vienna sausages. Of course, if you like them, there will be no judgment here, but maybe some side-eye. If you offer them to me, I might throw you out of the boat.

Popular choices include things like cereal bars, protein bars and other portable snacks that can be stuffed in a pocket. Once in a while, there are people who will splurge on big-time takeout lunches like fried chicken. Leftover pizza is also a popular choice. But for the most part. you find that easily “hideable” items that are portable and that can be held over time are the most popular choices.

Like anything that we find from individuals, a lot of people have particular choices and even traditions that they follow when it comes to snack time. For instance, Hall of Fame lacrosse coach of Cardinal Gibbons High School in Raleigh, Mike Curatola, has a tradition that he and his son Jonny get Swedish Fish candy. They are not allowed to eat any of them until after they actually catch a fish for real, and then they have to eat them head first. I mean, traditions are important.

Kesley Gallagher, from Los Angeles, tells me her husband always brings gummy bears on fishing trips, but when they go to the beach in Malibu for surf fishing, she gets the Hostess powdered mini-donuts. Again, tradition counts.

There can be very strong preferences when it comes to boat snacks. Joel Elliott from Durham says that he has become an “accidental connoisseur of mediocre food.” He even has rankings: First would be the chicken tenders from Publix; next, fried chicken from Harris Teeter, and third, wings from Food Lion. He adds that to avoid the sugar of sports drinks, but to replenish on a hot day, he has started bringing packets of powdered electrolytes and adding them to bottles of water on the go.

My good friend Kristi Irvin says that she always tries to have coffee, water, and protein bars. From personal experience in fishing with her, there’s a lot of coffee, and it’s very strong.

She always has sweet and salty snacks available — like a good mom — when you go fishing.

My friends who are fishing guides have interesting responses to this question. Ryan from Pennsylvania says his schedule is not very conducive to getting good food. It’s what you can get at the gas station or a snack bar, late at night or early in the morning.

Some of the younger guys I’m noticing have Red Bulls and Zyns as a big part of their “diet.”

Freshwater fishing guides, who work on rivers and streams, often have packed lunches and streamside or lakeside cookouts. Not often with saltwater guys will you see that!

Let me just say thank you to all those who participated in my “highly scientific” survey. Your effort and input are very much appreciated.

In the end, the choice of food items to bring on a fishing trip is as varied and complicated as each individual fishing person, so don’t read too much into it. However, I still say that Vienna sausages and potted meat are not on my table.

Snow is beautiful while it’s falling, and the way it drapes a soft white blanket over everything like a down comforter.

In an area that doesn’t get much of the white stuff on a regular basis, around here usually a flake or two is enough to cancel school and cause mass panic at the grocery store.

Snow is the only thing you can use to make snow cream, and pretty much everyone has their own favorite recipe. Ours is a can of condensed milk, a splash of vanilla, a couple of fresh eggs, maybe a little sugar. Add some clean snow and you’re set for an amazing treat.

A great deal of the time, if we even get snow, it’s barely enough to make snow cream. Too bad you can’t freeze some for later and make snow cream at leisure, but it won’t work. We’ve tried.

A recent taste of the cold weather Northerners take for granted gave us an opportunity to build snowmen and have snowball fights and stomp wet, muddy trails in and out the door. Drink hot cocoa with extra marshmallows and sprinkles. Devour bowls of steaming homemade soup or slow-cooked roast. Ride the four-wheelers and drag sleds improvised from clam tubs or other improbable items, whooping and hollering kids making indelible memories.

We were blessed this time with a gracious plenty and then some.

With most of the Southeast shut down as if the main transformer had blown, and with good reason, since we have neither the machinery nor the capability to handle this kind of weather, looking at the snow and playing in it are about all we can do.

Many of us had a blast making snow angels, or identifying various tracks and paw prints in the snow. The 3-year-old grandson, while we were out tromping around and enjoying his own personal version of Disney’s “Frozen,” informed me he saw Olaf’s footprints!

All of this is nice, and kind of interesting, but what does any of the above have to do with gardening?

Snow is great for gardens! What?

The old timers often called snow “poor man’s fertilizer.”

Sure, it’s wet and falls from the sky but how does that equate to fertilizer?

The same way rain makes crops grow far better than watering with a hose or sprinklers. As rain falls, it picks up nitrogen and trace elements from the air. Rain is also naturally soft water. It has no chemicals.

Did you know that lightning provides intense energy that breaks apart nitrogen molecules in the atmosphere? A process called atmospheric nitrogen fixation allows the nitrogen molecules to combine with oxygen. This in turn forms nitrogen oxides, which then dissolve in rainwater and are carried to the ground as nitrates, essentially becoming fertilizer.

Snow does the same thing, just without the lightning. While rain and lightning carry more nitrogen, snow is actually the best form of natural nitrogen because, as snow melts, it absorbs into the ground much more slowly. Snow and rain both pick up additional elements, such as sulfur, on their journey from the sky to the earth.

While rain is a quicker form of precipitation, snow blankets the earth. Snow provides insulation to bacteria and other beneficial microorganisms, not to mention plants and animals.

Petrichor, or what the scents of both rain and snow are called, is generally described as an earthy, fresh scent. Since snow is just technically frozen water, it shouldn’t have a scent. But it does.

Kind of hard to describe, one of those “you’ll know it when you know it” things, snow can smell like chlorine, or tin, or electrical stuff like bumper cars, or just plain clean and fresh, like clothes hanging on the line in cold weather. Falling snow can also pick up scents from the area where you live, so pine trees or scent molecules in the air from the earth around you can influence the scent. The experts will tell you that you can “smell snow” because it’s cold and there aren’t many other things, like flowers, around to smell right now.

That’s probably part of being able to smell snow, but the ability to discern when snowfall is imminent most likely comes to us courtesy of our ancestors — the ones who survived. Being able to smell snow coming could absolutely have made the difference between finding shelter in time or freezing to death.

Snow acts as a natural air purifier, latching onto natural and manmade pollutants, removing them from the air, contributing to the fresh, clean scent.

Again, fascinating, but what does any of this have to do with gardening?

Although ours never stays around long, snow adds moisture to the soil — somewhere around a foot of snow equals an inch of rain — while providing a form of insulating mulch. It adds nitrogen and trace elements back to the soil. Not enough that you won’t still need to fertilize your garden, but every little bit helps. Natural is better than chemical, the way real sugar is better than the little pink or yellow packets.

Some plants, like tulips and various types of fruit trees, need a good dose of cold. While the little bit we had won’t likely be enough for tulips or hard crunchy apples to actually thrive here, it will help many plants. Some seeds need a blast of cold, called stratification, in order to initiate germination.

Hopefully the snow blanketed our more fragile outdoor plants, palms and such, enough to keep the cold and the bitter wind from killing them. While we won’t know for sure for a few months yet, plants are tougher than you’d think. Most plants can afford the loss of a few branches or leaves, especially if they have a good root system.

While the snow discommoded many of us, making us miss work or other planned events, most of us didn’t lose power. We had heat and lights and water, and hopefully made some memories.

Despite appreciating the benefits, after our most recent “Snowmageddon,” we’ve all seen enough snow for a while!

A wise man once told me, “If you get a boat that can do everything, you’ve got a boat that can’t do anything.”

What does that mean exactly? There is no true do-everything boat.

If you own a boat now, figure out what it’s best at and do that. You probably already do. If you don’t own a boat, maybe I can help you with a decision down the road. It is boat show season now after all.

The first consideration for most people is always going to be cost. The boat market, just like real estate, has gone through the roof the last couple years. Having said that, owning a boat is not a very good lesson in economics. For most of us it doesn’t produce any revenue and will continue to cost us money for as long as we own it. The word BOAT is an acronym for “Bust Out Another Thousand” after all. But we can find some decent deals on the used market if we aren’t in a hurry.

It’s important to know what we’re looking for.

I’d say that, day-in and day-out, most people who fish coastal waters within 10 miles of shore can get by with a single-engine, center-console boat that’s 18 to 24 feet long. This type of craft can get us to the inlet and out in the ocean in reasonable comfort, and if it’s too rough for you to be out in that boat, it’s not really going to be a very fun day anyway.

With a boat of this size, you can bottom-fish the inshore reefs, chase schooling fish along the beaches, jig the wrecks for flounder, and a whole lot of other things. But there are realistic limits.

First of all, you will have limited access in areas behind barrier islands and shallow-water situations due to draft constraints (draft is how much water your boat needs to operate). You also have to make difficult decisions if you think about going farther offshore. If you’re not sure about what the weather and waves will be for the ride home, don’t go. If you like going offshore, at some point a boat of this size might not be the best choice.

If you see yourself making a lot of trips beyond 10 miles offshore, such as fishing weed lines for mahi-mahi, tuna, or whatever else might be out there, then something over 25 feet will be a better choice, and you might want to think about two engines.

When you’re 20-plus miles offshore and there isn’t another boat in sight, having two engines is really nice insurance on getting back to the dock the same day. Can you go out there with one? Of course, you can. I’ve done it quite a few times myself. Would I have felt better about it with two? Definitely.

I haven’t mentioned true offshore cabin cruisers yet. The price of these has escalated to the point that I don’t even look at them, and at this point in my life I don’t know much about them. However, I’d say that if you only want to make one or two trips per year to fish for marlin or something that’s over 30 miles from port, you’d probably be better off leaving it to the pros and chartering.

A lot of people own johnboats. They use them for duck hunting, shallow-water fishing, small creeks, and any place you need a durable shallow-draft boat. They can get you almost anyplace. I used one for years. I caught a bunch of fish in it.

They have a couple real drawbacks. It’s tough to cross any open body of water when the wind starts blowing. They’ll bang you around and try to knock your teeth out. They also tend to be loud when you’re fishing shallow places where you’d rather not make any sound at all. A better choice can be the flat-bottom fiberglass skiff. They weigh a bit more, can’t go quite as shallow as a johnboat of the same size, but they can carry more and make crossing open water a little bit easier.

In the past 20 years we’ve seen the rise of the bay boat. It grew out of a need to use the flat-bottom skiffs in areas where larger bodies of water were needed to be crossed and where it was too shallow to use a traditional center-console with a deep-vee hull. Bay boats can often fish in water less than 18 inches deep and will be loaded with accessories that make them fishing machines in protected waters.

On calm days you can even take a bay boat outside the inlet to chase false albacore or something. If you like to bass fish and want to do that type of fishing in saltwater for red drum or speckled trout, this is the style of boat for you.

Finally, we have the flats-style boats with the poling platform on the stern. These will usually have a push-pole and will sometimes also have a trolling motor. This is an extremely specialized style. If you don’t see yourself poling a skiff in 6 inches and sight-fishing shallow water, this is not the one for you. It’s the exact opposite of the big offshore cruisers.

If you just want to do it once or twice a year, this is another situation where you’d be better to leave it to the pros and get a charter.

Hopefully I have helped clear the mud for you when it comes to boats.

Is this all? No way!

I haven’t talked about canoes, kayaks, pangas, cuddy cabins, and at least a dozen more, and don’t even start thinking about sailboats. That’s a whole ’nother thing. But what I’ve hopefully done is to cover most of the styles of boats you might see fishing our coastal waters and help you make a decision if you’re trying to see what you want for yourself.

Now go out and buy a boat, and give me a ride on it!

Guest commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

As one of his final acts in office, former President Joe Biden announced a permanent ban on offshore drilling in United States waters. The action protects 625 million acres of ocean from new offshore oil and gas leasing — stretching from Alaska’s Bering Sea and the Pacific Coast to the eastern Gulf of Mexico, and the Atlantic Coast.  

Offshore drilling is costly, dirty, and poses a serious risk to coastal communities and states that rely on tourism and commercial fishing industries.  

President Donald Trump acted quickly to revoke these protections in one of the dozens of executive orders he issued on his first day in office. His actions are in keeping with his campaign promise to “drill, baby, drill,” catering to the oil and gas companies eager to tap into fossil fuel reserves on public lands despite the harm to people and the environment. But many Americans oppose offshore drilling — and the unacceptable risks it poses to our coasts, communities, and climate — and President Trump’s executive order will face pushback from environmental advocates and local leaders.

North Carolina’s coastal communities are keenly aware of the risk that comes with selling off public waters to private industries. In 2015, over 60 coastal cities and towns in North Carolina passed resolutions opposing offshore drilling to the Obama administration’s proposal to open the south Atlantic to oil and gas development. Local leaders understood then – as they do today – the real cost of having big oil companies dropping anchor along their shores. Commercial fisheries and shipping ports keep the saltwater economy moving along the Outer Banks. The state’s tourism industry is crucial to local economies, with travelers spending $35 billion every year.  

In short, coastal communities aren’t willing to pay the price for selling our oceans to the highest bidder.  

This also isn’t the first time that President Trump has attempted to undo measures protecting our ocean from oil and gas development. In his first term, he tried to undo similar protections put in place by the Obama administration. But a federal judge ruled that Trump’s 2017 executive order violated the Outer Continental Shelf Lands Act (OCSLA) and reinstated the Obama-era protections.

While President Trump has been quick to sign off a flurry of executive orders, his actions still must follow the laws enacted by Congress.   

The Trump administration’s actions make it clear that they are out of touch with community interests, concerns about climate change and the need to protect our natural resources.

We cannot afford to sell off our oceans at the expense of our people and our planet.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns.

From the editor:

Sunday is World Wetlands Day.

The United Nations in 2021 adopted a resolution to commemorate annually on Feb. 2 the adoption of the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands, an international treaty signed in 1971. The observance actually dates back to 1997.

Wetlands across the state serve important roles, and especially here on the North Carolina coast, they surround us. They help provide the quality of life and desirability that lure so many. They buffer us from tropical cyclones and flooding. They help sequester carbon making them critical for mitigating the effects of climate change and to biodiversity and human health. They are nurseries and habitat for countless marine and bird species.

To many regular Coastal Review readers, these points may seem obvious, but they are also key messages behind the recognition of World Wetlands Day, and our wetlands are increasingly imperiled.

The Ramsar Convention defines numerous distinct types of wetlands, organized into three main categories: marine/coastal wetlands, inland wetlands and human-made wetlands. Included among inland wetlands are intermittent or seasonal pools, streams, lakes and rivers.

Article 1 of the UN treaty more broadly defines wetlands as “areas of marsh, fen, peatland or water, whether natural or artificial, permanent or temporary, with water that is static or flowing, fresh, brackish or salt, including areas of marine water the depth of which at low tide does not exceed six metres.”

That’s about 20 feet deep for the metrically challenged. It’s also distant from the U.S. Supreme Court’s myopic, unscientific definition set forth in its 2023 Sackett decision. The ruling found that only wetlands with “a continuous surface connection to” water bodies that are “‘waters of the United States’ in their own right,” those to which we so often refer as “WOTUS,” so that they are “indistinguishable” from those waters, are protected under the Clean Water Act.

The decision was merely the first ominous domino to fall for North Carolina’s wetlands.

“In the wake of the Supreme Court’s decision in Sackett v. EPA, the only thing now protecting many North Carolina communities from being flooded in the coming years is the state’s existing ban on paving over wetlands without a permit,” Grady McCallie, policy director with the North Carolina Conservation Network, said at the time, noting that state law was all that was left, “literally protecting lives and property.”

But later that same year, the North Carolina General Assembly saw fit to narrow protections that were tailored to our specific vulnerabilities as a region, placing isolated wetlands outside both state and federal jurisdictions and, therefore, more likely subject to development or degradation.

At the time, state environmental staff estimated that, as a result of both the Supreme Court decision and state legislative action, around 2.5 million acres, or about half of North Carolina’s wetlands and more than 7% of the state’s total landmass, were left unprotected.

Wetlands are too critically important to endanger in this way. The point of World Wetlands Day is to each year raise awareness of this key fact so conveniently disregarded by those wielding power. For 2025, the theme for the day is “Protecting Wetlands for Our Common Future.”

Another definition: A “common future” is one we all share.

“Life thrives in wetlands, and human life depends on them,” said Secretary General of the Convention on Wetlands Dr. Musonda Mumba in a statement marking World Wetlands Day 2025. “Wetlands provide the home or breeding ground of many endangered and threatened species and a multitude of endemic plants and animals can only survive in certain wetland locations. Beyond the clean water and food that wetlands provide, they help protect against natural disasters by mitigating the impact of storm surges, floods and droughts.”

Now, with a new administration in Washington rapidly acting on its explicitly stated intent to eliminate or at least further diminish federal water quality, air quality and other environmental safeguards — while also dismantling from within the agencies that enforce regulations and stripping away any environmental justice and civil rights responsibilities in their purview — it’s imperative to recognize how important wetlands are to our coastal way of life. The challenge to maintain and preserve coastal protections throughout the coming deregulatory onslaught has never been more daunting, nor more critical.

The North Carolina Coastal Federation, which publishes Coastal Review, has over the course of its four-decade history often phrased the message in pure bumper-sticker simplicity, “No Wetlands, No Seafood.” That’s because it’s a message that resonates.

The nonprofit’s more complete, updated message is to “protect and restore coastal water quality and habitats throughout the North Carolina coast by collaborating with and engaging people from all walks of life who are committed to preserving the coast for now and the future.” Far from simple, it’s hard work that already requires many hands.

Coastal Review strives to always present unbiased reporting on just these issues, encompassing science, energy, government, education, laws, history and culture. Our journalists work to provide all relevant perspectives in our environmental reporting – not the least of which are economic factors. And we will continue this important work, bringing you, our valued readers, the most complete and timely information possible, so that you can better understand and then decide. Of course, as a nonprofit organization, your financial support can help us serve you better in this regard.

Eastern North Carolina’s economy and well-being and those of our nation depend on clean water and healthy wetlands. The people of this region demand it, despite whatever their predominant voter registrations or candidate preferences may indicate, because nobody voted for environmental destruction, endangering public health or imperiling our coastal way of life.

Views expressed herein are solely those of the editor.

A wise man once said to me, “The man who does not read good books has no advantage over a man who doesn’t know how to read at all.”

That was Mark Twain. (He didn’t actually say that to ME). So, it stands to reason then, that if you want to learn about cool stuff, then you should read about cool stuff. If you want to learn about fishing, it probably will be a good idea to read about fishing, hence I have had a fishing library for years that I refer to quite frequently.

First of all, let me say that just because a book is not about a true subject, does not mean you cannot learn lessons for life. I was once told by a person I respected that they did not read fiction because there was no reason to, because, “You can’t learn anything from it.” To this day I have no response to this person, because it’s such a dumb statement.

All the great things to learn are wrapped up in fiction. Are you not sure of how you should act when a huge opportunity comes to your door to save the world? Then read the “Lord of the Rings” and see how small people can save us all. If you’re not sure how to treat people below you on the social scale, then read “Huckleberry Finn” and notice how Jim is the only character in the whole story who has any honor.

Finally, some of the most serious lessons we have to learn in life are wrapped up in broad comedy. Remember the TV show “M*A*S*H?” Was it really just about bunch of people in the Korean War? 

Obviously, I have a copy of “The Compleat Angler” by Izaak Walton, but I don’t feel that it talks that much to me, and more recent things will do the job better.

First, let me mention the most-referenced book in my library. You might know me as a fly fisherman. The Lefty Kreh book, “Advanced Flycasting” was like a bible to me for many years. I was even lucky enough to walk into a flycasting demonstration with him one time and he worked with me on my casting extensively. I count this among some of the most important lessons of my fishing career. We lost Lefty a few years back and I still remember all the things he told me that day. Luckily, we have his books.

Something I was lucky enough up to pick up years ago was a book called “Fly Rodding the Coast.” Ed Mitchell wrote about a very basic approach to looking at the water if you don’t have a boat. It just so happens that everything he writes also applies to being in a boat. It has been an invaluable part of my library for years. I also have his follow-up called “Fly Fishing the Estuaries.”

Closer to home, Tom Earnhardt wrote a volume called “Fly Fishing the Tidewaters” that was very helpful to me years ago. Not only in learning how to fish the waters around here, but also as a guide to how to put together a useful book. The chapters on tide and how it affects fish and fishing I found especially helpful. I would stare at the full-color plates of beautifully hand-tied flies for hours to get ideas.

“Prospecting for Trout” by Tom Rosenbauer has been the book that I have recommended to people about learning to fish with a fly rod more than any other. It is a priceless resource and Rosenbauer is a treasure that keeps on giving in the form of his social media. He continues to help people learn to fish and get better at fishing.

I have more books written by John Gierach than any other. His insights and humorous view of the world around him helped many of us get into the right frame of mind when we would go fishing. He recently has also been lost to us, and I think I need to pick up all of the ones that I have and give them a reread.

Anything by Thomas McGuane, from “The Longest Silence” to “Ninety-two in the Shade” to about a million other great things, will enrich your brain and put your mind in the right place.

Probably the most popular fishing story ever written and the one most familiar to people, is “A River Runs Through It” by Norman McLean. More than likely you remember the film and I love it. I recommend everybody also read the book. The movie is adapted from McLean’s life. (It’s pretty complicated). The book focuses on his time as a young man in Montana and his relationship with his brother and his father and how they affected him and the man he became. The final paragraphs are some of the most moving words ever written by an American writer.

There are so many others; I haven’t even mentioned Lee Wulff, Robert Traver, Frank Daignault, AJ Mclane, et al., and specific guide books to fabulous fishing locations too numerous to mention that have been extremely helpful.

My hope here would not be to just give you a list of books to read, although I’m hoping that people will pick them up, but to let you know there is a world of fishing literature that is both helpful and entertaining. I would encourage anyone to collect their own works of fishing books to have as a reference and support authors of all kinds.

You might even already know, or maybe you don’t, but I myself have two books that I have written, for what that’s worth. And of course, never assume that a book that is a work of fiction does not have anything that you can learn.

One of the real pleasures of owning a high-quality fishing library is that you can always reach out to your favorite fishing authors on days when you would not be up to going. Snowing like crazy? Pick up McGuane. Sad or depressed about not getting to go fishing because of some health situation? Grab McLane. Just need a little pick-me-up and a chance to laugh about things? Check out Gierach. That’s what I do.

Guest commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

Each winter, as lights and decorations are packed away, holiday trees are typically discarded or sent to landfills in most areas. But in the Wilmington region of North Carolina, the Cape Fear Chapter of the Surfrider Foundation has been doing something different.

For the past 11 years and this past Saturday, this chapter has led the community in repurposing Christmas trees to rebuild dunes in critically eroded stretches of the coastline. These efforts not only help restore the natural landscape, but also educate the community about one of North Carolina’s most pressing challenges: protecting our coastline in the face of sea-level rise and intensifying storms.

The threats facing Cape Fear’s beaches are not unique. Across North Carolina, rising seas and worsening coastal erosion jeopardize the Tar Heel State’s ecosystems, communities, infrastructure, and economies. Climate change has led to higher tides, more frequent flooding, and even homes collapsing into the ocean due to severe erosion and storm damage.

North Carolina’s coastal property owners and communities have typically addressed chronic erosion and storm damage through beach renourishment or replenishment. This short-sighted “solution” disrupts natural sand movement and processes, frequently smother adjacent ecosystems and wildlife, and can cost taxpayers tens of millions of dollars, or more, to maintain in the long term. One storm event can easily wipe out a multimillion dollar project in a matter of a few hours, leaving North Carolina’s coastal habitats at risk of permanent loss due to sea level rise and flooding.

This is where nature-based solutions come in.

Nature-based solutions restore and conserve ecosystems by leveraging natural processes and resources to enhance biodiversity, protect habitats, and promote resilient communities. They also help mitigate disaster risk, including the effects of sea level rise, flooding, and storm surge.

In the case of the Cape Fear Chapter’s annual dune restoration event, volunteers place Christmas trees collected by the city along coastal areas in need of protection and rebuilding. Working closely with local government, community members, and wildlife advocacy groups, Surfrider ensures the trees are positioned to maximize sand capture while avoiding harm to wildlife. Once staked in place, the trees act as natural dune infrastructure, capturing sand and fostering the regrowth of critical dune plants and ecosystems.

In 2024, the Surfrider Foundation launched its Climate Action Program to focus on implementing nature-based solutions for climate impacts in coastal areas from Cape Fear to Hawaii, and everywhere in between. While the official program is new, volunteers across the country have long been leading efforts to address these challenges in their communities through the Surfrider Foundation. The Cape Fear Chapter exemplifies this approach, demonstrating how grassroots action can drive meaningful coastal change.

Across Surfrider’s network, volunteers are championing local initiatives to combat the impacts of climate change. From advocating for living shorelines and marsh restoration to promoting managed retreat, Surfrider’s activists are showing how nature-based solutions can address erosion and flooding sustainably.

The annual Christmas tree dune restoration event in Cape Fear serves as an entry point to educate the community on how nature-based solutions can mitigate climate-driven impacts. Through hands-on volunteer opportunities, Surfrider emphasizes the need for widespread adoption of sustainable practices along our coasts. These efforts empower community members to advocate for long-term, science-based policies, calling on decision-makers to prioritize the resilience of their communities.

As we welcome 2025, let’s make this the year we reimagine our relationship with North Carolina’s coast. By embracing nature-based solutions and working together to protect what we love, we can create a thriving, resilient coastline for generations to come.

To get involved with the Cape Fear Chapter’s dune restoration event next year — or to find volunteer opportunities with other Surfrider chapters along the coast — visit surfrider.org/volunteer.

Let’s make the health of our coasts a shared New Year’s resolution.

Surfrider Southeast Regional Manager Kayla Huff contributed to this piece.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns.

Throughout the course of our lives, we get thrown into situations with lots of different people of lots of different personality types.

Fishing is no different.

A lot of the time, people we end up fishing with become our best friends or lifelong companions. Other times, well let’s say, it’s just not as good.

For every person we meet on a fishing trip who counsels, guides or otherwise helps us, there are, hopefully not too often, one or two who, for some reason or another, don’t keep up their end of the deal. Just look closely for the gems.

True Mentors

The True Mentor is an exceedingly rare type of fishing companion. This is the type of person with whom you can share, and they will share with you, and we can all improve by being together. The arrangement is mutually beneficial.

It’s commonplace for most anglers to only have one, and maybe — but only if they’re extremely lucky — two True Mentors in their fishing lives. Anytime a person like this comes into our sphere of influence, we should consider ourselves blessed.

These are the types of people who determine what kind of an angler — among other things — that you will become. Their influence will have long-ranging effects on you and, in turn, probably somebody that you will mentor in the future.

Meet the Leeches

Conversely, a Leech is a guy who will suck you dry for any piece of information or knowledge that you can be persuaded to part with. This person will take anything you can offer and give nothing in return.

They will end up fishing in your spot while you’re not around, and then not tell you anything in return that could possibly help you in the future.

The worst kind of Leech is the one who doesn’t know anything at all, but they act like they do. Tossing salt into the wound, they then go and share your information as if they had acquired it on their own through years of experience and without the help of any other person.

The Know-it-All

Next, we have the Know-It-All. This person already has the answers to all the questions that ever need to be asked about fishing. The problem here is that this person doesn’t actually know anything and will give recommendations based on something that they heard about on a TV fishing show.

It gets worse, because Know-It-All always assumes that they are correct and whatever you say is wrong. And they continue to mess up all the ideas you have for the rest of the day.

Know-Nothing

In a similar vein, the Know-Nothing will tell you that he knows nothing about what is going on is and is just there to learn.

In reality, like Know-It-All, they think they do know everything and will complain incessantly when you make a decision that they don’t agree with. Then follow with, “Whatever you decide. I don’t know anything, anyways.”

Grumpy Old Man

Let’s talk about the Grumpy Old Man.

This is a person who is not necessarily old but is generally grumpy for some reason, and 99% of time they are indeed a man. 

This person will never be happy.

Go out on the boat and if the fishing is slow, they will complain about fishing being too slow. If the fishing is really good, they will complain that the fish are biting too easily. If he hooks the biggest fish he’s ever caught in his life, he will be complaining about how long it takes to get in. If he’s only catching little fish, well of course he’ll complain about that as well.

Don’t even bother trying to make a lunch for the Grumpy Old Man. You might make the most amazing gourmet lunch anybody has ever heard of or seen and he will complain that it’s too fancy. But woe be to the one who only comes with PBJs!

If the boat is a little older, he’ll complain that it’s too beat up, and if the boat is brand new he will complain that it’s too fancy and you should get something more his style.

The Grumpy Old Man will never be satisfied no matter what you try to do for him.

The Mentee

The Mentee is similar to the Leech in that he personally learns a lot from the Mentor but, unlike the Leech, is fully appreciative of all guidance from the Mentor.

He gives full credit. He loves the feedback. And he will often be the kind of person who becomes a lifelong friend.

A really good Mentee will offer others fishing trips, often taking the Mentor to other places, and even buy really nice meals for the Mentor and the Mentor family. These are the kind of things that come unbidden, and the Mentor-Mentee relationship is often fulfilling for both parties.

These are great opportunities to cultivate lifelong friendships.

Ideal Fishing Companion

Izaak Walton said, “Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter.” He was talking about fishing companions, of course.

The Ideal Fishing Companion is a person to whom and with whom spending time isolated in a boat or another fishing spot is a pleasure.

You will be able to converse about the myriad of subjects that come up when you’re fishing. There can be disagreement, of course, but it will not be disagreeable. Most of the time, the worst thing to talk about is college football or something like that, and if a true political discussion comes up, you can resolve the issue without harsh words.

The style of fishing demonstrated by these kinds of companions is generally similar, and the amount of stamina each has is similar, as well. That’s important, too.

Needless to say, Ideal Fishing Companion is difficult to find. There will be many people who come around but who don’t fit the bill. That’s fine.

Because in the meantime, you have been fishing, anyways, and isn’t the whole goal of this, anyways, just to be fishing?

An old Assyrian proverb states, “The time spent fishing is not deducted from the total time man spends on this Earth.”

I would like to think that is 100% correct.

Prerequisites?

What? Like … classes?

No. No need to take classes and get certified or anything so drastic. Although classes on any subject are always helpful, permaculture doesn’t require classes so much as knowledge of your subject.

Well, shouldn’t you take classes to gain more knowledge?

Not so fast. Don’t feel like you have to rush right out and sign up.

Knowledge about permaculture is more about observation and utilizing nature. Know your land. Go with the flow instead of swimming upstream. Enhance preexisting land contours and natural elements to create more bounty with less work.

Merriam-Webster defines permaculture as “an agricultural system or method that seeks to integrate human activity with natural surroundings so as to create highly efficient self-sustaining ecosystems.”

An easier definition might be simply “no waste.” Everything in nature is a closed-loop system, meaning everything gets used by something, creating zero waste.

By paying attention to nature and the ways nature uses every scrap, we can strive to recreate the same type of closed-loop system, or permaculture.

In other words, instead of cutting the forest down and plowing natural contours into flat fields, think of permaculture more as living in harmony with your surroundings. It’s observing things and asking yourself questions like:

• At what angles does the sun hit your piece of land at different times of the year?
• What are the times of year when you get more sun, more shade?
• What is the direction of prevailing winds.
• Are there any natural water courses?
• Which way does the water flow after heavy rains? Does it pond anywhere?
• What kind of trees or weeds are already growing naturally there?

Trees and weeds are designed to grow in optimum conditions. If they’re not planted by humans, their seeds will drift on the wind, be borne along by water, or carried by birds and animals. When they find conditions conducive to their growth, they germinate and take off.

Before things like soil tests were available, savvy farmers and landowners would take advantage of normal growth patterns in order to know what crops would grow best and where.

For instance, sheep’s sorrel (Rumex acetosella) and moss are good indicators of acidic soil.

Low nitrogen? Look for clover (Trifolium repens) and lespedeza (Kummerowia striata).

Moist or poorly drained soil? You may see cattails, chickweed (Stellaria media), violets, nutgrass, Virginia buttonweed (Diodia virginiana).

Weeds can even be indicators of pest infestations. If you have an abundance of prostrate spurge (Euphorbia humistrata) or Florida pusley (R. scabra L.), you might have a nematode infestation.

Stinging nettles, (Urtica dioica), as nasty as they can be, are indicative of nutrient-rich soil.

Unsurprisingly, most of these weeds have medicinal or other uses beneficial to humans.

For uncounted centuries, people have even learned to find mineral or metal deposits by paying attention to what vegetation is abundant or lacking.

It’s the same with trees. If you pay attention to what trees are growing on your land, their presence is a good indicator of pH, available nutrients, how wet or dry your soil is, and many other useful tidbits.

So, in order to practice permaculture, do you need a spread in Texas? At least a good-sized farm? Nope! Whether you have a small backyard or half an acre or even substantial acreage, permaculture is more about good stewardship and living in harmony with your space than how much space you have.

Of course, the more land you have, the more you can do with it.

Permaculture advocates for no-till, focusing on improving the soil instead. This can be done by adding compost or manure, using layers of newspaper or cardboard to keep weeds down. Called sheet mulching, or lasagna composting, this process uses alternating layers of carbon (cardboard or newspaper) and nitrogen (compost or manure) to create rich soil. To be fair, I’m not sure how many layers of cardboard it would take to smother pennywort.

If you’re in the market, finely ground bulk mulch can often be obtained from local landfills for a small fee. Termite larvae, also known as root maggots, like ground-up trees and bark, too, so until your mulch is well composted, it may attract these critters. It’s all a part of the process.

If you’d like to see videos of no-till versus till, a good friend recently turned me on to Charles Dowding. Amazing stuff!

Keep in mind as well, with our nutrient-deficient sandy soil, anytime you improve the soil, everything close by – pine trees, grass, sweet gums – is going to send questing roots and shoots into your prime gardening soil.

Terracing works in some areas, even on small patios, and has been used for centuries. The Aztecs used it to great advantage over an immense area. Yours certainly doesn’t have to be on their scale. They also made floating mats of reeds edged with woven branches. Called chinampas, these man-made islands were anchored to the shores of shallow lakes, often by planting willows at each corner. Soil from the lakebeds and shores was added to the mats and, voila! The Aztecs successfully grew a multitude of crops this way.

Walls or hedges can double as windbreaks or trellises. Brick or stone walls were and often still are used around kitchen gardens to keep the unwanted critters out and also to hold heat. Fruit trees can be espaliered — trained to grow flat — along the walls, adding another dimension to the garden and utilizing otherwise wasted space.

Theoretically, once your space becomes more attuned to permaculture — and because everything is on a perpetual cycle, there’s no end date — the insects and diseases should take care of themselves. Hopefully the beneficial insects and bacteria will offset any losses from the unhelpful ones.

Again, coastal North Carolina is a tough area to garden in. Gardeners here on the coast face a multitude of challenges, often causing people to give up and go back to more conventional, less Earth-friendly methods such as using commercial fertilizers and pesticides.

Here’s wishing you success and hoping fire ants don’t consider your lasagna to be their personal Dubai!

Not too long ago, we talked about descending devices, what they’re used for, why you need them, and a bunch of other things. But what use is a device to save released fish from deep water if you don’t know how to catch them?

So that’s what we’re going to talk about this time. Before you go out there, you need to have an idea of where you’re going, what do you do when you arrive, what baits you need, and probably a whole bunch more things I have not thought of yet.

To start with it, is probably a good idea to have an idea where to look. To help us with that, we asked a very accomplished weekend angler, Paul Gilbert, of Wilmington.

Gilbert fishes with his brother-in-law, Levi Wright, whom he calls “The Captain,” and they will go out trolling surface baits while looking for depth changes with hard structure on them in the form of rock piles and wrecks.

“We start somewhere in the 25- to 30-mile range and put out the ballyhoo spread for the early bite,” he explains.

They have a high-quality depth finder that will show structure changes, bait availability, and even the presence of fish.

“Some of the best ledges are very slight humps on the bottom,” according to Gilbert.

When all the pieces are present, they will go back and drop baits on those humps and see what is there.

“We do a quick drop on each ledge and if it produces, we stay longer.”

Drop a variety of baits on different rigs. Gilbert will rig things such as squid, cigar minnows, and even cut versions of bait stealers they catch, on the old standby Chicken Rig with enough weight to reach bottom 90 to 120 feet down.

There may be a surprise swimming by on the surface. “Keep a light line going if there’s life up top. Keep a pitch bait handy (one that can be deployed quickly on the surface) if a mahi or cobia swims up to join the party,” is Gilbert’s advice.

Another inside tip from Gilbert: “Last trip I brought out some nice palm-sized pinfish and got into the gag grouper pretty good. I caught them with a pinfish trap, and used a Fishfinder rig and 3-foot leader.”

Because the good spots are so difficult to find, Gilbert will stick on a spot until they decide that it is no longer producing. It is an old saying that you should not leave fish to find fish, which means don’t leave the spot until you know for sure that it is no good. There are clear signs that it’s time to go.

The fish that we are targeting will be aggressive and will bite quickly if they are present. If sharks become a problem it’s time to leave.

“When you catch the first shark, think about which ledge to hit next, when you catch the second shark, you go.”

As far as rods go, this is not the place for light tackle. Use a 4/0-size reel loaded up with 60-pound braided line. Too small of a spool will have you cranking for days. It takes a lot of weight to get down sometimes, so a rod with a soft tip is contra-indicated. More people are looking at electric reels when fishing over 200 feet. That’s a lot of reel turns.

Another way to target fish in deep water is by jigging. This allows you to target fish that are more active and higher in the water column. Along with snapper and grouper, you’ll also get hits from different species of jacks, king mackerel, and tuna.

Joel Elliott, secretary and board member of the Hillsborough Sportfishing Club, enjoys going out on the various big party boats around Atlantic Beach and Beaufort and targeting big fish with jigs in deep water.

This is a more involved method of targeting fish in terms of the skill involved to get strikes, keeping lures from snagging on the bottom, and of course being able to land fish on a busy party boat. It’s very rewarding and there are some things that you need to know before you get started.

First of all, you are going to need your own specific rods and reels for the technique that you will be employing. Big spinning rods and reels loaded up with 60- to 80-pound test braided line are a good place to start. Reels such as the 6000 series from Daiwa, Shimano or other manufacturers are recommended and Elliot likes a custom-built jigging rod. Look to spend $300 to $600 to get started.

To target snapper and grouper with jigs, the best way is with a 10-inch Z Man HeroZ tail and 6-ounce jig head. Joel Elliott recommends using jigs with a glow feature when the water is 100 feet or deeper. Let it drop to the bottom then lift and fall, lift and fall. It will feel like a grab in the deep. You will need braided line because without it, you will be missing strikes and losing fish.

Remember: When you’re fishing for snapper and grouper, always be aware of the seasons in terms of what is legal to keep and what is not.

Joel points out that, “A big challenge of jigging off a headboat, is that you want to be able to control the fish and keep them vertically under you as much as possible to avoid tangling up with others.”

Hopefully this will be enough to get you started with deep-water fishing for grouper and snapper. Just remember, always have your descender device and be prepared to release the fish that you cannot keep. Always be aware of the seasons and know what is going on. You don’t need to have a problem with the Coast Guard when you’re heading back in to shore.

Now get out there and load up the boat with some delicious snappers and groupers.

What do hedgerows and permaculture have in common?

Hedgerows are multilayered, permanent habitats for birds, animals, reptiles, insects, and a host of other living things, providing something for each of them: shelter, habitat, easily renewable resources for building nests and burrows, water, hidden highways and resting areas.

Permaculture for humans is much the same thing, only the expanded, geared-for-humans type instead of wildlife version. The ideal permaculture — the word was coined from a combination of “permanent” and “agriculture,” with a side of plain “culture” — is pretty much an enclosed, or loop, system.

The idea is to provide for a variety of needs, with everything that can be, recycled and reused.

By mimicking nature, and the way certain plants grow in conjunction with others, humans have figured out how to make hedgerows, or permaculture, work for the benefit of humans.

Working with, rather than against nature, and utilizing practical and thoughtful observation instead of mindless labor, permaculture aims to use less work to gain better results.

Basically, instead of growing one crop over a large area, such as wheat or corn — both products we need and both somewhat counterproductive to grow in small plots of land — permaculture is the method small family farming used to embody.

Everything had a place, and was utilized to the fullest extent it could be. Starting with a kitchen garden full of herbs and some vegetables located close to the kitchen door and easily accessible, the areas would expand out into more diverse areas such as a bigger garden, pastures for livestock, fruit and berry orchards, and larger specimens such as nut trees and woodlands.

By observing nature, it could be determined what plants would grow best and where. Manure from the animals would be used to enrich the soil. The movement of water would be catalogued, and ditches and wells and ponds placed in the best areas to sustain drainage and containment. If you’ve ever lived on a farm with a shallow, usually hand-dug well, you know the importance of easily accessible water.

Besides how much water humans need on a daily basis, the stock needs to be watered, and trust me, a herd of cows or horses or pigs can drink a lot of water! The garden needs water. Orchards need water.

Left to themselves, plants will only germinate and thrive in the soil, light, and water conditions best suited to their needs. Humans like to plant things where we want them, to suit our needs. The two are not always compatible.

This is where permaculture comes in.

Permaculture should be designed so everything has more than one purpose. Need a fence? Plant a hedgerow so it can double as a windbreak or as a trellis. In colder regions, a living fence will also reflect sunlight and heat onto plants and livestock during winter months.

Let a rain barrel double as a home for aquatic edibles, and even for fish, then use the water for irrigation.

Use a chicken tractor – a small, lightweight and portable enclosure – to not only protect your chickens from predators and your garden from chickens, but also to enrich the soil.

Called “stacking functions,” this kind of setup allows for multiple purposes for each item.

Establishing permaculture can be a slow process of trial and error, taking into consideration the needs of plants and livestock and humans, and finding the best solution for each.

For instance, just because you love black raspberries doesn’t mean they’ll grow here. The biggest patch of wild black raspberries I’ve ever seen is on top of Mount Mitchell. That’s a good indication those particular plants need cold weather to thrive, so our coastal heat and humidity and mild winters are no good for them. Same with fruit trees. Our climate is not conducive to peaches, and forget about cherries. Apples do marginally better.

Blackberries and figs and blueberries, however, do great on the coast.

If permaculture is such a great idea, and it is, why don’t more people use it? For one thing, it takes time and effort, and it an ongoing process, not a one and done.

Permaculture advocates for no till, which means instead of plowing, less invasive methods are used, and that means less fertilizer, more water conservation, and less soil erosion.

We’ve been taught that in order to have a successful planting, we need to till or plow. Maybe we were taught wrong. Tilling or plowing tears up the soil, loosens compacted soil, and helps with weed control, but we’re learning that tilling or plowing also destroys fungal networks and organisms that hold soil together, not to mention beneficial root mass.

When was the last time you dug into soil and found an abundance of earthworms? Or any earthworms, for that matter?

The purpose of permaculture is to create a mutually beneficial living space for humans and the environment. We’ve lost touch with infinite interactions that exist between humans and the environment. They’re forgotten, these interactions we desperately need to rediscover.

Permaculture also has drawbacks. In giving ourselves a better habitat, we encourage wildlife, which in turn love to feast on our plantings. More plants and bushes and trees mean more insects. More birds. More birds mean more wildlife, each compounding the others. Foxes and snakes and ticks and chiggers, oh my!

Permaculture can be difficult, especially in our area, with our already challenging growing conditions. On the other hand, at least we don’t have rocks and clay soil to deal with.

Someway, somehow, in order for permaculture to work, a perfect balance has to be struck, otherwise all our efforts turn into a chaotic, unbalanced mess.

For more information and probably a better explanation than I can provide, check out these sites:

• The Permaculture Institute.
• Permaculture: A Beginner’s Guide.
• Permaculture – Sustainable Farming, Ranching, Living… by Designing Ecosystems That Imitate Nature – SARE.
• North Carolina State University’s Growing Small Farms.
• Wild Abundance school near Asheville teaches permaculture, carpentry, and earth skills, offering a degree in permaculture.

Commentary

The North Carolina Coastal Federation publishes Coastal Review.

As I reflect on my journey over the past four decades with the North Carolina Coastal Federation and the changes of the past year, I am filled with both gratitude and optimism for the future of our coast.

This year has marked an exciting new chapter for me personally and for the Federation. Since stepping into my role as Senior Advisor to our new Executive Director, Braxton Davis, back in February, I’ve had the privilege of shifting my focus away from the day-to-day operations, allowing me to concentrate on some of the core priorities of our organization in a way that is both refreshing and invigorating.

When I founded the Federation in 1982, our mission was clear: protect and restore North Carolina’s coastal ecosystems for future generations. Over the years, we have worked toward this vision — advocating for stronger environmental policies, engaging with local communities, and making significant strides in safeguarding our waters and wetlands. But as I’ve learned throughout my time here, the work is never done. It’s a continual journey, one that requires constant reflection, collaboration, adaptation and lots of helpful hands.

In my new role, I’ve been able to focus more deeply on the heart of our mission: land protection and habitat restoration, along with improving safeguards to prevent polluted stormwater runoff. These are critical efforts that will help restore coastal water quality, protect wildlife, sustain our fisheries, and make our coastal communities safer and more resilient for years to come. Healthy, thriving habitats — whether wetland forests, estuaries, or saltwater marshes — are the foundation for vibrant ecosystems and communities. As we look to the future, these efforts have never been more urgent. The challenges ahead are real and growing, but so are the opportunities.

One of the most pressing issues we face is the ongoing loss of wetlands. Wetlands play a vital role in filtering pollutants, providing habitat for marine life, and buffering communities from storm surges and flooding. This year, the Federation made significant progress on land protection initiatives, securing ownership and conservation easements on thousands of acres of riparian estuary buffers and collaborating with partners to raise more than $33 million to restore marshlands and riparian zones. These efforts will continue to grow in the years ahead, supported by our strong relationships with landowners, local governments, as well as state and federal agencies, and the N.C. General Assembly.

Restoring fisheries habitats is another area where we see great potential for impact. Coastal fisheries are essential not only to the health of our marine ecosystems but also to the livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of people in North Carolina depending on our commercial, recreational and tourism industries. By focusing on water quality and habitat restoration — particularly in the headwater areas of our coastal estuaries — we can ensure these ecosystems continue to thrive. Already, we’re seeing positive effects of this work: fish populations are rebounding in some areas, and water quality is improving in others. But there is still much work to be done, and the Federation remains committed to staying at the forefront of these efforts.

The Coastal Federation has always thrived due to its strong, community-driven approach. We know that lasting change happens when people come together—when communities are empowered to protect their environments and when businesses, local governments, and environmental organizations collaborate for the greater good. With our new director’s years of experience working with North Carolina’s coastal communities to protect coastal habitats and marine fisheries, I am confident that the Federation will continue to build on this foundation, driving progress in ways that are both sustainable and effective. While I will continue to help where I can, this work relies on many capable and passionate hands — especially younger generations — who will sustain it for the future.

Becoming a grandparent this year has given me even greater perspective on the importance of this work. In August, I welcomed my first grandchild, and just before Thanksgiving, we learned that our family will grow with a second grandchild arriving in the spring. This personal milestone has only deepened my commitment to ensuring that we leave a healthier, more productive coast for the next generation.

The road ahead may not always be smooth, but we are on the right path. As we look toward the future, the hard work of today will lay the groundwork for a healthier coast tomorrow. The Federation has the knowledge, commitment, and partnerships needed to overcome the challenges we face and ensure that North Carolina’s coastal ecosystems remain healthy and productive for generations to come.

Only together, will we move forward as we protect, restore, and preserve our coast for the future.

The acclaimed coastal scientist Orrin Pilkey, who died at the age of 90 on Sunday, had more stories than an old wet dog.

A few years back, we were sitting around the kitchen table in the retirement community in Durham, North Carolina, where he lived in later years. It was a comfortable apartment, messy with books and papers and walls filled with Orrin’s impressive collection of Indian arrowheads. Importantly, it was close to Orrin’s beloved Duke University, where he taught coastal science for a half-century and still had a coveted parking space in the faculty lot.

Orrin was telling me how he grew up in Richland, Washington, near the Hanford Reservation Reactor.

“We used to play in the puddles after it rained,” he said. “It drove my mother crazy. When the whistle went off, she would rush to the door and call us kids inside because they were about to release a radioactive cloud. We liked to say the dogs in Richland all glowed at night. It was great fun growing up there.”

In a 2019 book, “The Geography of Risk, Epic Storms, Rising Seas, And The Cost of America’s Coasts,” I described Orrin this way: “Pilkey is a short, square hobbit of a man, with an unruly gray beard and a disarming sense of humor. Depending on your point of view, he is either a prophet or the antichrist of the coast.”

I worried a little that Orrin might be offended, but when an acquaintance brought up the description, he roared and said, no, he loved it. It was exactly right.

Orrin was maybe 5 feet, 4 inches tall, and had an impressive belly. He swore to me that he used to run marathons and had broken three hours at the Boston Marathon. I was a decent enough runner back in the day and had struggled to break three hours, which is considered the standard separating real runners from hobby runners.

Like many of his stories, it verged on the unbelievable. But Orrin was like that, always surprising, a prolific and important writer of books on North Carolina and other coasts, a provocative critic, a generous, dedicated teacher, and as Rob Young, one of Orrin’s former students and the head of a coastal science program at Western Carolina University, wrote in a LinkedIn post, “He was funny as hell.”

You had to work hard to not like Orrin. Over a quarter-century, I watched developers and engineers scream invective at him for challenging the way they stacked fragile beaches and sand dunes with ever-larger investment properties. But I also reveled in how Orrin could disarm even his most hostile critics with an impish grin and a joke.

Once, back in the winter of 1998, I was showing Orrin around some of the new development in Corolla, on the northern Outer Banks. We had just finished emptying our over-caffeinated bladders behind some wax myrtle, when one of the developers roared onto the gravel lot in his Caddy and began screaming at us for violating private property. This lasted roughly a minute when suddenly he stopped, stared at Orrin, and exclaimed, “Hey, I know you. You’re that Pilkey guy.” Orrin smiled and marched over to the car. By the time it was done, the developer had Orrin’s email and was his next best friend.

Some of the engineers at the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers bitterly criticized Orrin’s science and complained that he was training a cadre of young “Pilkeyites,” who would ruin the coast. By ruin, I think they meant put a halt to the development and the Corps’ costly beach replenishment projects, in which they pump millions of cubic yards of sand onto eroding beaches to save the property lining the shoreline. Pilkey correctly pointed out that those projects were mere Band-Aids, lasting a few years before the next storm came along and washed the sand out to sea. “It’s madness,” he told me many times. “Absolute madness.”  

A Florida engineer complained that Pilkey “got all of the students who got 1600 on their SATs,” and then indoctrinated them in his ways. I loved that. They just didn’t know what to do with Pilkey.

“My approach to coastal science and management is very different from his,” Young wrote. “But, my approach to life is not. My dad died when I was 21. Orrin was the closest thing to a father I had for the last 40 years. He gave me my current position. I owe him so much.”

Orrin got his Bachelor of Science in geology at Washington State University and his master’s in Montana and figured he would become an expert on mountains and shale. During summers, he worked as a smoke jumper and manned a fire tower deep in the forest. Instead of staying out West, he picked up his PhD in coastal science at Florida State and became an expert in sedimentology.

He lived for a time on Sapelo Island, off the coast of Georgia, where he attended church in a ramshackle chapel with the Gullah Geechee. “Hey, I really like the singing, Pal,” he told me. He called everyone pal. Later, he researched the abyssal plain, a gaping mud hole in the ocean so deep sunlight does not reach the sea floor.

In the mid-1960s, Duke took a chance and hired Orrin to start a marine geology program. “It was a big leap,” he said. “They were taking a big chance.”

Over the years, he helped to train thousands of students now scattered across the land. Early on, he was approached by Paul Godfrey, a marine biologist working for the National Park Service on Cape Lookout, and asked to sign a petition protesting a reckless development along the coast. “I was new and didn’t sign,” he told me, with a frown. “It was a big mistake, one of the biggest mistakes I ever made.”

In time, he would become one of the loudest critics of what we were doing to our coasts, penning scores of opinion articles and essays, often appearing on radio and television. Duke was his local podium, but he traveled the nation and the world, spreading the gospel of Pilkey, which might be summed up this way: Preserve as much as possible of what we have left at the coast, stop hardening eroding shorelines with groins and sea walls and, above all, allow the barrier islands to keep moving, the way Mother Nature always meant.

Orrin wasn’t impressed with many of the incremental policies being implemented to protect the coast. He believed they were too little, too late. In time, he became a national advocate for retreating from the coast as the seas rose and storms became larger and more destructive. His position felt impractical to some coastal geologists, who knew that developers, politicians and property owners would fight efforts to remove them. Far too much money was at stake.

When I asked him if he was becoming out of step, he shrugged and told me “I’ve always been out of step.” And then he laughed.

Have you ever seen a photo of a fish that was pulled out of deep water too quickly? Did you notice the poor creature’s bugged-out eyes and surprised expression?

This is a sign of a fish experiencing deep-water decompression, and it is a big problem for catch-and-release situations involving snapper and grouper fishing. Because of this, anglers in the deep-water fishery are required by federal law to have a descending device onboard their boat at all times.

Let’s talk about what the devices are, what they do, how we can get them, and how they are used.

First, let’s talk about barotrauma. When fish are brought up from deep water, they can often suffer severe difficulty after being released. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission defines barotrauma as, “The change in pressure in a gas-filled organ called a swim bladder that controls buoyancy and allows the fish to maintain a certain depth. Fish that are caught in deep water and then released can cause the gas in the swim bladder to expand and in some cases burst.”

This causes significant problems because there are very strict regulations on size limits and catch limits for fish like snapper, grouper, and seabass, among others.

Capt. Tom Roller of Waterdog Guide Service in Beaufort, a member of the North Carolina Marine Fisheries Commission, states that, “Recreational discards (releases of undersized or unwanted fish) in the fishery are out of control and need to be reduced.”

In response to this stated need, devices have been invented to allow fish to be released at the proper depth so they can swim away alive, rather than be eaten by sharks or barracudas.

Descender devices, as they are known, are hooked to the jaw of a fish and allowed to be pulled down to whatever depth that the fish came from before detaching by jerking the weight away, allowing the fish to swim off. Surprisingly, this works well enough that they are required by federal law to be present on any boat that participates in a deep-water bottom fishery.

“It’s a unique way to release deep-water fish to reduce release mortality that is both efficient and required by law,” Capt. Tom says.

North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality Division of Marine Fisheries Special Assistant for Councils Chris Batsavage says that they are required gear for, “Any recreational or commercial fisherman fishing in deep water for fish that are susceptible to barotrauma. Examples of fish include groupers, snappers, black sea bass, and tilefish.”

Further, he adds, “Increased survival of released fish with barotrauma should result in less mortality, which can lead to sustainable populations.”

Of course, there are now lots of products that we can use to help release the fish safely that are used every day. There are literally too many to list.

A bunch of guys have homemade devices that we’re not going to waste time talking about, due to concerns of varying effectiveness.

The main ones that you are going to most readily find are called the Seaqualizer and the Fishsaver.

The Fishsaver is a device that clips onto the lower jaw of the fish using a kind of barbless fishing hook, and you drop it down to the desired depth using weights. A sharp jerk on the line releases the fish. Seems easy in practice, but there’s no good way to regulate how far down the weight goes on the release.

The Seaqualizer, on the other hand, uses a clip on the line that attaches and releases at a predetermined depth.

Obviously, the latter is a bit more expensive, but there’s more technology involved and it offers more control.

You just need to figure out which style you want to use. If you look on the Internet, there is quite a large number of other options to choose from as well, but usually they are adaptations of one style or the other — some more expensive than others. Just make sure you get one that works properly.

Capt. Tom said he has used lots of homemade ones over the years, but Seaqualizer, he added is, “Amazing.”

OK, so now you’re out fishing for snapper in 100 feet of water. What do you have to do to be ready to go?

First thing, it’s recommended to have a separate fishing rod rigged up with a fish-release device, and have that ready go before you even begin.

Then you drop a bait down to the bottom, reel it up a couple of turns, and it’s not too long before you have a bite. Very exciting! Get the fish about two-thirds of the way up, and it just becomes deadweight on the line. You reel in the rest of the way, and when you look at the fish, its eyes are bugged out of its head and the belly is distended from the swim bladder.

It’s a little too small to keep, and rather than mess around, you quickly attach your Seaqualizer to the fish, turn and drop it back to the depth that you just got it from. The device will release, and the fish will be back in its home at the proper depth. You can then continue to safely catch and release fish that are too small, and you don’t have to worry about dumping fish over the side to feed the sharks.

Have a good time catching snappers to bring home for a delicious meal. Just make sure you know the following things:

• Rules and regulations concerning the minimum size, how many fish you can catch, and keep, for all of the various species that you could encounter.
• The seasons, because regulations can change drastically through the course of the year.
• How to use a descending device, and always have one onboard.

Once a vital part of our ecosystem, hedgerows are mostly considered a nuisance nowadays.

Used for well over a thousand years in Europe to delineate boundaries or roads or fields, they have fallen out of favor, both in Europe and here in the United States.

The ones here are often sprayed or string-trimmed or bushhogged into oblivion in keeping with the idea of perfect golf course yards. After World War II, many of the hedgerows that divided smaller fields in Europe were bulldozed and combined into larger, more crop-productive acreage better suited to then-modern farming methods, and also to meet increased housing demands.

Thankfully, Europe has halted the destruction of their hedgerows and they are now protected.

Just to give you an idea of how impenetrable the European hedges are, despite the World War II-era military higher-ups having tons of aerial footage of the countryside around Normandy, our guys got trapped and slaughtered. For whatever reason, the higher-ups didn’t take the hedgerows into serious consideration.

Perhaps they assumed European hedgerows were like the natural ones here; a scruff of bushes and then somewhat clear inside. The hedgerows in Normandy, however, became deathtraps. Our soldiers couldn’t get around or through them, and they became sitting ducks for the enemy.

Whether it’s a hedge — those made up of mostly one type of plant — or a hedgerow, which consists of a multitude of different plants, both serve a purpose. A hedge can be a screen along a driveway or fence, or the hedge can be a fence.

A hedgerow, on the other hand, while it can be a fence, is more often a habitat, a hide-away, a highway.

It’s thought that the first hedgerows originated from strips of woodland left around cleared fields and spaces. Humans figured out that hedgerows worked pretty well for delineating boundaries and keeping livestock from wandering away. The rest, as is often said, is history.

Ancient hedgerows were often planted in a specific way, and the method of construction can be used to determine the age. One method showcases rocks or dirt banked as a foundation for a row of plants above, usually hawthorn whips or something similar that’s allowed to grow straight up before being slashed near the bottom of the trunk and then bent sideways.

Usually done in the winter, the following spring would see the slashed plants sending up lots of straight branches. Successive rows of various plants would be interspersed alongside this main planting. A few seasons of growth resulted in a nearly impenetrable explosion of plants.

Once the hedgerow was started, other than an occasional trimming, those hedgerows thickened pretty much by themselves. With a lot of help from birds and small mammals and reptiles, they soon became thriving ecosystems, teeming with wildlife and plant species.

As the birds perched and roosted, they spread berries and seeds, which encouraged more types of plants to grow. Same with mammals.

Hedgerows can be planted intentionally, but some of the best ones evolve naturally.

Around here, and specifically, the hedgerow beside the Newport Garden Center, provides endless opportunities for observation and enjoyment for me, but to the guys who keep it trimmed back, not so much!

Here, hedgerows consist of natives, especially along ditch banks, where it starts with a few scrub bushes, followed by a few pines and maybe some sweet gums or maples. A bit more scrub grows up around the base of the trunks, and so very gradually — you hardly notice — the hedgerow expands outward.

Privet appears, seemingly overnight, and soon wild roses begin to wind and cascade. Southern wax myrtle, or myrkle as it’s known locally, is next, then maybe poison ivy, wild grape vines, honeysuckle, jasmine, magnolias, persimmons, dogwoods, blackberries, smilax, Virginia creeper, and around the verge, mosses and ferns, thistles, grassy weeds and just plain weeds.

But how? Magic? Kind of.

Many seeds, magnolia for example, have to be scarified. What is that? It simply means the seed has an extremely hard coating that needs to be filed or scratched in order to germinate. When a bird eats a magnolia seed, as the seed travels through the bird’s crop and intestines, the outer coating is scarified. The bird perches on a branch, does what birds do, and voila!

Eventually, instead of a lone tree with a gauzy skirt of scrub brush, a whole ecosystem develops. The outer edges of the hedgerow present a solid front. The interior is made up of a tangle of countless trunks and branches and vines, twisting every which way. This wall and tangle, while offensive to humankind’s sense of order, is a haven for critters.

The more species of plants that end up thriving in a hedgerow, the more diverse the animal life that takes advantage of the habitat: Birds, of course, but also raccoons, possums, squirrels, foxes, turtles, rabbits, insects, lizards, toads, snakes … the list goes on and on.

Unfortunately, no matter how great your hedgerow becomes, you’ll never attract hedgehogs, not here. Wouldn’t that be neat?

Still, hedgerows not only provide above-ground habitat, they also improve the soil and provide homes for earthworms and grubs and snails. Their extensive root systems help hold the soil in place, slowing erosion. The leaf detritus from the fallen leaves adds nutritious mulch to the earth, and will eventually turn into rich soil, as will the windblown leaves that get caught along the edges.

Established hedgerows provide numerous other benefits, not the least as windbreaks. They provide ample forage and shelter, protected paths for animals to travel from one place to another, blossoms to feed bees and butterflies, seeds and berries for the birds and critters to feast upon.

Europeans have long taken advantage of their hedgerows for wilding, harvesting herbs and mushrooms and rose hips, among many other things from their hedgerows. Some hedgerows are even deliberately underplanted with perennial edibles that are left to grow and spread. There are also hedgerows used as a renewable source of firewood.

Far more than just a useless tangle of brambles and weeds, hedgerows are amazing places. Ever-evolving, what was once hedgerow will eventually become forest. Pushing outward, the cycle continues endlessly.

Guest column

Who among us are not looking for an off the beaten path location to end what, by all accounts, has been a tumultuous year?

To refine: Who wants to brave the end-of-year weather on the Outer Banks counting the many birds present and making a modest contribution to our knowledge of trends in bird life with implications for all of us?

I’m referring, of course, to the Christmas Bird Counts, the largest and longest-running community science projects in the world. Sponsored by the National Audubon Society. The first counts, 27 of them, began in 1900 and were organized by ornithologist, Frank Chapman, founder and publisher of “Bird-Lore,” which later became Audubon Magazine.

I am the founder and compiler of the Ocracoke and Portsmouth Island Christmas Bird Counts.

Billed as an alternative to a traditional holiday activity known as the “side hunt,” this hunt was a competition to see who could shoot as many birds and animals as possible. Instead, the Christmas Bird Counts focused on just counting birds, recording both species and the number of individuals — a means to promote conservation and improve knowledge of bird populations. It succeeded.

This activity has grown exponentially. Last year there were about 80,000 volunteers and 2,500 counts across 20 countries in the Western Hemisphere. The counts take place during a three-week period from Dec. 14 to Jan. 5 each year.

Two of these counts are held on Ocracoke and Portsmouth islands, the last two days of the year. The Ocracoke count is scheduled for Dec. 30 and Portsmouth, Dec. 31. There have been a few occasions when the dates were reversed due to weather concerns about getting to Portsmouth. They are RSVP only and many of the volunteer birders participate in both. RSVPs are needed because we need to know how many will be heading to Portsmouth Island, which is only accessible by boat and part of Cape Lookout National Seashore.

A count period covers 24 hours, but Portsmouth is much shorter as the participants board a skiff run by Capt. Donald Austin from Ocracoke Village in the early morning and return by midafternoon. Capt. Austin has a new skiff that accommodates up to 22 passengers. There is a $25 fee.

A  typical Ocracoke count can tally 80-85 species and Portsmouth, 65.

Portsmouth is a particularly enticing count. Stark, with wonderful winter light and mosquito-free, one can wander the village with binoculars in one hand and a camera in the other. Portsmouth is noted for having one of the state’s highest wintering populations for American oystercatchers. A few years ago, the counters were thankful for a bald eagle. Not only as a good bird for the count, but flying low, it spooked 29 hidden oystercatchers that flew into the air.

On Ocracoke you can walk the winter beach, scan the marshes and walk through maritime forests. Double-crested cormorants will be in the thousands and yellow-rumped warblers in the hundreds. Northern gannets, red knots and red-breasted nuthatches are usually reported.

One of the tricks to withstand winter weather, sometimes high winds and low temperatures, is to dress appropriately with more layers the better.

If spending the days counting birds is not enough, there is a social tally rally famed for its vegetarian chili and key lime pie at the compiler’s house near the Ocracoke lighthouse that takes place in early evening of the final day of the year.

The Carolina Bird Club has details about the North Carolina and South Carolina Christmas counts.

If you are interested in participating in either of these two counts, contact the compiler, me, Peter Vankevich, via Facebook or petevankevich@gmail.com.

First light.

Your buddy told you the dawn bite was amazing. You get up at 4 a.m. and drive to the boat ramp. Grab your stuff and march to the dock.

Everybody is glad to see each other. Fist bumps and high fives are exchanged. Your buddy is impatient and wants to get going. You head out into the beauty of a rising sun. After a bit of a run, during which you notice him taking some tortuous turns to stay in an unmarked channel to get back to what is, pretty obviously, if not a secret spot, then one that doesn’t get much traffic.

He shuts down the motor, grabs his rod and catches a fish almost immediately.

You are left sitting there because you have not prepped your gear, it’s still a little dark and you are having trouble because it’s difficult to see.

“Didn’t you rig up last night at home? I texted you with which lures to have rigged up and how to set them up,” your buddy grunts as he sets the hook into what appears to be another really nice fish. You still have not gotten your lures out of your tackle bag.

It takes you a solid 15 minutes to tie your knots, find your lures, set them up, and finally you notice that, in your haste, (He just caught another one.) you have mis-threaded the line on your rod and have to start all over.

If you recognize yourself here, I’m sorry.

Well, in this case, I would have little sympathy. I am meticulous about setting up the night before. I recently joked with a friend that I have probably spent half of my adult life rigging fishing tackle at the dining room table.

While that may be a slight exaggeration, it is an accurate portrayal of how I prepare. Let’s spend some time and get ready for an early morning fishing excursion.

On the night before, get all the gear you think you might need and get it spread out in a well-lit area. I joke about the kitchen table because that seems to be the biggest, brightest area in my house. But if you have a well-organized work area you usually use, then that is perfect.

Let me point out a potential hazard: ceiling fans. These are the single biggest killers of fishing rods in the home, with a close second being the screen door that swings closed automatically.

Once you have everything spread out, determine exactly what you are going to be doing first thing. If you are going to be running to artificial reefs to bottom fish, then get your favorite rod and the hooks you prefer and tie up those bottom rigs or jigs just the way you like them.

Let me add that if you need to get bait, you need to be procuring that well in advance.

If you are drifting live mullets on Carolina rigs, best bet is to get your cast net out the day before and have a way to keep them alive overnight. If your goal is to be casting lures for speckled trout in the hot creek, then determine your favorite and have that rigged and ready with freshly tied-on leader line.

I like to have two rods rigged and ready with contrasting styles of plugs to hit different situations that may occur. If I’m going to be fishing slow-sinking plugs for the majority of the time, I’ll pick my favorite color and put that on one rod and then I’ll have a topwater plug ready on my backup rod — or whatever I think I might want on that second rod ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Decades ago, I used to fish with a guy who would make a point of chanting, “Down Time!” when somebody would get a tangle or a mess up with their tackle. I still think about this all the time.

Let’s say we’re going to hit the beach on a cold November morning. It’s a nearby beach and we’re going to cast MirrOlures for speckled trout. Prep the gear the night before. Make sure that all is as it should be. No mess ups in the rod, reel or line. Hooks are sharp!

Quality time is spent with fishing companions. Let’s load all the gear, carefully arranging everything in the truck: rods, waders, gear bags, coolers, drinks — it’s quite a logistical operation.

Get up in the morning. Coffee pot was set up the night before after watching the football game, so it’s hot and ready as we walk out the door.

Since everything is loaded up, all we have to do is get dressed and hop in the truck, get to the parking spot, get waders on, grab rods and walk down the sand.

Nobody else has arrived at the spot, but this will change soon. The sun is just a hint on the horizon. Make a cast and hook up on the first shot. All three of us have fish in the first minute of being out there. Each of us lands two fish before any other anglers make an appearance.

Now let’s assume that we weren’t ready the night before.

That first light bite when surfcasting for trout often means everything. And sometimes when additional people start in around the spot where you were just catching them, it slows down.

Each minute that was lost tying a knot in the dark, or untangling lines, finding waders in the garage, or even just waiting for the coffee to brew, could mean the difference between getting those first bites — and often the biggest trout in a school will be the most aggressive — and getting leftovers from somebody else.

Most everyone knows what witch hazel toner/cleanser is, or has at least heard of it.

An astringent with both anti-inflammatory and antiviral properties, witch hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) has been used for centuries. Popular for skin care, witch hazel helps with various skin conditions such as acne, eczema, psoriasis, dandruff, and even hemorrhoids. It can be found in liquid, soaps, pads, salves, and several other easily applicable forms.

But did you know … witch hazel is native to North America?

Well, three species of it are, anyway. There’s also a variety in Japan, and one in China. The three here are Hamamelis virginiana, or common or American witch hazel; H. vernalis, or Ozark witch hazel; and H. ovalis, or big-leaf witch hazel.

Also, it grows here in North Carolina. If you’ve ever been in the woods this time of year and noticed a sweet fragrance but couldn’t pinpoint it, you’re not having olfactory hallucinations. Witch hazel blooms in the fall, usually October and November, sometimes into January or so. The blooms resemble tiny fireworks or crumpled streamers, and our variety and the Ozark variety are yellow, while the ovalis tends to be redder.

A somewhat gangly, large shrub or sometimes a small tree, witch hazel blooms when most other plants are dormant, so it can add interest to your winter landscape. Witch hazel is also deer-resistant, doesn’t have many disease or insect problems, and is fairly easy to care for.

Give it plenty of room, because this plant, which loves to be an understory accessory, can get 12-15 feet wide and 20-30 feet tall.

Witch hazel is also the only tree in North America to have flowers, fruit, and next year’s buds all at the same time. Remaining on the tree for a year, once fruit capsules have matured, dried, and eventually split open, they can catapult seeds as far as 30 to 45 feet. This popping makes a distinctive sound, which is where witch hazel gets another of its common names: snapping hawthorn.

So if witch hazel blooms this late in the year, what in the world pollinates it? It’s an especially fair question since its habitat ranges from Nova Scotia to Florida, and from the Great Lakes to eastern Texas.

Late-ranging bees, beetles, and flies do the work, at least until it gets too cold, and moths — specifically shiver moths. Cool name, huh? In the Noctuidae family, owlet moths, or winter moths, can raise their body temperature by shivering. The ability to raise their body temperature by as much as 50 degrees enables these nocturnal moths to fly and find food on cold nights when most every other pollinator is tucked in and bedded down.

Native Americans used a tea brewed from the leaves and bark of witch hazel for bug bites, skin irritations, poison ivy, and scratches. They also drank the tea for its health benefits against coughs, colds, diarrhea, and other ailments. Having shared their knowledge with the first settlers, the settlers then eagerly began using witch hazel for the same purposes.

Witch hazel seems to have been introduced to Europe by several plant collectors who corresponded with early settlers and merchants. Peter Collinson was one, and Mark Catesby, who received a live specimen sometime around 1743. Evidently Mr. Catesby was not stingy with his witch hazel plant.

While Native Americans and settlers boiled the ground up branches and flowers to make a type of tea, the Europeans figured out how to distill it and combine the witch hazel with alcohol, increasing its potency and thus ensuring it became a staple of every medicine cabinet.

In the mid-1800s, a Connecticut minister opened a distillery in Essex, Connecticut. Now, thanks to the work of a few families who have been harvesting witch hazel for generations, over 300 tons are harvested every year.

Witch hazel regenerates well, ensuring a sustainable harvest. Once cut, witch hazel will regrow enough to harvest again in about seven years, with some clumps having been in rotation since the Native Americans were the only ones using it.

Harvesting witch hazel is beneficial to the forest, since it’s done in winter, opening up the forest floor so other species can benefit from extra light and space.

Connecticut seems to be the epicenter of witch hazel forests, unlike here, where the shrubs are hit and miss.

Witch hazel has numerous fascinating properties, not the least of which is its ability to live under walnuts and hickories. Witch hazel is one of the few plants resistant to juglone, a natural herbicide produced by walnuts and hickories that’s toxic to many species of plants.

So how did this plant get the name witch hazel? It had nothing to do with actual witches, rather it’s thought to derive from the Middle- to Old-English wiche or wice, meaning pliant or bendable.

Another line of thought is that the name derived from the practice of using witch hazel as witching, or dowsing rods, to locate water. A Y-shaped, peeled branch of witch hazel –– the wood of preference for dowsers –– was often used when people needed to know where to dig their well. Holding the two arms of the Y, the dowser would walk around until the straight end pulled toward the ground. “X” marks the spot! In a time when wells were laboriously dug by hand, dowsers were valued persons, but of course, being able to dowse might also get you labeled as a witch, so there’s that.

If you spend any time in the woods, you may have walked right by this hiding-in-plain-sight native. The small, oval leaves are a medium green, turning to brilliant yellow in the fall, about the same color as grape vine leaves, and the two are often intertwined, making the witch hazel even harder to spot. The blooms are often camouflaged by the leaves.

Look sharp, and have fun seeing if you can spot this inconspicuous native!

You’re out fishing on a beautiful day. You get a strike from the biggest fish that you’ve ever caught.

Get it aboard and you pull out your mobile device and take a photo with the camera that we all have in our pocket these days. You are so excited. You figure this is going to be the greatest photo.

You tell your friend, “I’m going to have this framed and hung up above my mantle.”

When you look at the photo, you realize it’s overexposed, it looks washed out, and the fish looks small and so far away. You decide to take another picture.

Now it’s dead from sitting in the cooler and looks terrible and sad. By missing the exact moment of the capture, you missed the great photo opportunity.

There are a lot of things that can go wrong with the cameras that we use to take snapshots today. It’s way better than it was when we all had Kodak Instamatics, but there’s still a lot of mistakes that can be made. How can we maximize that memory to get the perfect big fish picture?

Let’s be clear: We’re not talking about using the most-costly camera taking the fanciest pictures. Can you get a nice photo with expensive gear? Of course. Can you take terrible photos also? That’s an affirmative.

What we are talking about is using the same camera that everybody has in their pocket today, the mobile phone camera. If you can apply some of these lessons just using the regular camera built into your cellular device, you can get good results and even get frameable artwork that is worthy of being a family heirloom.

Move in tight

I want to start out by saying that driveway shots are right out. Dried-up shots of dead fish are not anything to be proud of. Instead, we’re going to concentrate on catching the moment with a live fish. These are the ones that last and bring back the memories.

First rule: Get close.

No seriously, I mean really close.

Get close enough that the picture of the fish and the person fills the frame and possibly spills over. The closer you can get, the more detail you can capture, then the more impactful the photo will be.

Resident Coastal Review photo expert Dylan Ray recommends to “Fill the frame with the fish. There’s no need to show the legs of the angler.”

A lot of the new cameras have a separate mode just to take portraits, coincidently enough called “Portrait Mode.” This is a setting on the phone that blurs the background of the photo while keeping the subject in sharp focus. This helps ensure a professional-looking photo that makes the subject “pop.” This also allows you as the photographer to get as close to the action as possible and produce a sharp image of the subject.

Make sure that your background is not full of clutter. By this I mean you don’t have extra people or lots of extra things happening. Unless of course you’re doing it on purpose. Sometimes a picture of a stream with the mountains in the background is very impactful.

Note conditions

Speaking of backgrounds, generally make sure that your light is coming from behind the photographer, otherwise the image will get washed out. Having harsh light in the foreground can ruin a photo quickly. Position your subject with the light coming from over the shoulder of the shooter.

Stay steady

Be still. Don’t move. Don’t shake. Even a little tiny bit of shaking will make your photo blurry.

Take many shots. If we are using digital, there’s no reason to not have many different images to use. Just a tiny bit of vibration from operating the camera can sometimes throw it off. Be aware of that. If the boat is moving or if something jostles you, it will also affect the photo. Take lots of exposures.

Editing

Now, let’s assume we have a clean photo with a nice frame-filling image. It’s not blurry and has a nice background with no washing out of exposure due to bad light. What do you do next?

That cell phone camera is an incredibly powerful image manipulator. The fact that it’s in your pocket all the time does not make it any less so. You can do amazing things with just a quick couple touches of some buttons. Let’s look at a couple of my favorites.

The easiest thing to do is to just tap on the button that says “Auto” and it will automatically adjust the light and color on photo. This is effective and simple, but probably not the very best way to do it.

First, I like to crop the image. Even if you had come in nice and close, there is some cropping that you can do to get out extraneous details. It’s also good to realize the size of the photo you want to end up with.

For Instagram images, you probably want it to be as square as possible. For something that you are going to frame, a portrait shot will be best. That is when the longer axis is top to bottom, as opposed to landscape style, which is when the longer axis is from left to right.

Next, let’s talk about color and light. Previously, I mentioned the “Auto” button and how this may not be your best option. Go into your edit settings and there should be a place to adjust the colors and the light. There will be sliders for each setting for things like shadow, light, and color saturation. By simply fooling around with the sliders and experimenting you can figure out what they all do.

If you don’t like the results simply hit the cancel button and start over. This is not film where we have to develop a sheet of expensive photo paper and every mistake equals money lost.

I will generally go down each slider in turn. Experimenting a few times until I get something that looks good to me. Let me add here, that a little goes a long way. You don’t have to make very big adjustments to each setting to make dramatic differences.  

“Using a headlamp will add some nice fill light,” advises Ray.

Get in there and mess around with the settings and see what you come up with. Remember you had to have something good to start out with, and it begins with proper framing, good light, and a smooth shutter control to have a clean start.

Good luck and let’s see what you come up with this year.

Some people will tell you that the best fishing on the East Coast is to be found in places like the Florida Keys, Chesapeake Bay or Cape Cod. I’ll tell you the best fishing that attracts the most high-profile anglers is right here off the coast of North Carolina for two months in the fall.

The awesome run of false albacore off of Cape Lookout is unequaled anywhere in the country from the middle of October to the end of November. Nowhere else can you reasonably expect to see a tuna species running bait in protected waters less than 30 feet deep (and often less than 10 feet deep) with the kind of consistency you can here. Top it all off with lovely clear water and you have a sight-fishing opportunity that is unparalleled for a fish of this type.

So, while I love Florida flats fishing and want to make a trip to Montauk someday, I am perfectly happy in the waters off Cape Lookout. I have caught false albacore, or fat alberts, near the jetty on Labor Day and along Shackleford Banks in December. It’s a long season.

When the bigger fish of over 15 pounds move inshore in early November, many anglers will report hookups well in the double digits. That is enough to tire you out.

You may be wondering at this point what is so great about them? Have you ever hooked a fish from 8 to 15 pounds (on average) that will take off and run more than 100 yards of line off your reel in just a few seconds? All this can happen while using medium-weight spinning tackle or flyrods. That is what false albacore fishing is all about.

Let me give you some background on this fish. This is not the true, deep-water albacore that can be found in a can at your local market. The official name for fat alberts is “little tunny.” You could also call it Euthynnus alliteratus, but only if you really need to impress your friends.

It is not a bonito. It is not a bluefish. These misidentifications lead to much confusion. You will hear many reports on the radio of bonito being caught. That is usually from those not wanting to catch them. Bonito are not good to eat and tend to tear up carefully prepared trolling rigs. The surest way to know if you have a fat albert is to look for the black spots around the pectoral fin and the squiggly markings on the back.

Now let me tell you a couple of things about how to get one of these baddies on the end of your line. I am a fly fisherman. I would rather catch one fish on a flyrod than 10 any other way. However, if you are a first-timer and not a fly angler, do not despair, because these things will hit small jigs as well as, if not better than, any fly ever invented.

The best lures are small split-tail plastic baits around the size of a man’s finger in any color that looks like a natural minnow and the epoxy-coated metal jigs made by different companies, including a local outfit called Beach Bum Lures out of Havelock. Both are available in just about any tackle shop on the coast of North Carolina. Use a 4000 series reel that is capable of holding a full spool of 20-pound test braided line, and a 7-foot to 7 ½-foot, medium-action rod.

Don’t go too light on these fish. If you take too long to bring one to the boat, they might die. No rolling over and giving up for the little tunny.

For fly fishing, I prefer a 10-weight rod. This is heavy enough to cast into strong winds that often blow out of the north at this time of year and to bring the fish up from the depths at boat side without breaking. Plus, it is light enough to cast all day without wearing yourself out.

Use an intermediate line and a leader about 8 to 10 feet long with a 20-pound fluorocarbon tippet. Use a nice baitfish fly tied on a size 1 or 2 hook. Don’t make it too thick. The glass minnows that are the predominant prey species are about the size and shape of a man’s middle finger. Add some flash material to catch the eye of a fast (40 mph) swimming albert.

Now that we are rigged up, let’s go after them.

In the fall, they can often be found outside inlets from Cape Lookout south to the South Carolina line. When you get out, there will often be albacore blasting at glass minnows right there. If that is the case there may be a bunch of boats chasing them.

In this situation the first thing you need to think about is courtesy. Don’t pay attention to the people who are racing back and forth chasing surfacing schools at warp speed. Figure out which way the fish are moving. It will often be very obvious. Get in their line of travel and drift into them from uptide or upwind. Another boat may get in your path. Try to keep cool. People tend to act funny when there are big fish visibly feeding in shallow water.

If you are spin fishing, keep casting around the boat. You will often hook up even if there are no fish showing on the surface. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they are not there. When you finally get a chance to cast into breaking fish, get your fly or lure as far into the melee as possible.

Start a moderately paced retrieve. You don’t have to rip it in. Keep it in the strike zone. They may not see your first presentation. Get it in there again! There may be hundreds or thousands of fish in front of you right at this moment. When one sees it, you can bet that fly or jig will be inhaled.

Now is when the fun begins! Your hook is in the mouth of a fat albert. The fish will then take off. If you have never fished like this with casting or fly tackle before, you will be amazed at how fast a fish of this size can swim. This is the fastest fish you can regularly catch within sight of land around here.

The first run of a bigger fish will often take close to 150 yards of line. Be calm and let it go. If you are running out of line you may need to start the engine and keep up with your rapidly depleting spool. An albacore may then double back and swim right at you. Keep the line tight and your rod bent, retrieve line as fast as you can. Be prepared for another run at any time. Sometimes the big ones (16 pounds and up) will come all the way in and then do the whole thing all over again.

When it comes to landing a fat albert, no fish could be more accommodating. He has a built-in handle. The tail is very stiff and easy to grab. Get ahold of it and lift the fish into the boat. Work quickly at this point. Have your long-nose pliers available. Get the hook out as fast as you can. I have even switched over to barbless hooks.

If the fish is out of the water too long it will definitely die. They are a proud fish and fight to exhaustion. When the hook is out you can take a couple of quick photos. Then drop the fish headfirst into the water from about waist height. Don’t swish it back and forth. Simply dropping the fish in the water from waist height will allow it to get a fast burst of water and oxygen over its gills and allow it to swim off quickly.

One final note: Don’t let your fish run too far away from you on that initial run. I’ve had a couple taken off of my line by sharks. Needless to say, there are other creatures that also enjoy the pursuit of false albacore.

Ask any kid, and most of them can tell you the three things that plants need to grow and thrive, each in appropriate measure: Sunlight. Water. Soil.

Most soils around here are either an ancient sand dune or an ancient swamp, with not much in between.

The sandier soils, like on the beach, tend to be limier.

The darker, muckier soils tend to be more acidic.

And neither of those tendencies is set in stone.

More important than your soil type is knowing the pH of that soil. What is pH, and why is the second letter capitalized and not the first?

A simple definition of pH is, it’s a measure of how acidic or base a substance is, as determined by the concentration of hydrogen ions. The higher the concentration of hydrogen ions, the more acidic your soil is. The fewer hydrogen ions there are means your soil is more alkaline. On a 14-point scale, battery acid is zero, with water or blood being neutral, and caustic substances like drain cleaner or soda being 14. Thus, 7 would be neutral, anything under 7 is acidic, and anything over 7 is alkaline.

As for why the second letter is capitalized, pH stands for power/potential of Hydrogen. H is capitalized because it stands for Hydrogen, and elements of the periodic table are generally capitalized, which makes for weird sentences.

A plant’s pH is what enables it to absorb nutrients.

Hydrangeas are a great natural litmus test for your soil. If you have hydrangeas, the bluer or more purple the blooms are, the more acidic your soil is. If your hydrangeas are pink, your soil is more alkaline.

If you want, you can put sulfur on one side of your hydrangea and lime on the other. Sulfur will lower the pH, while lime will raise it. The change won’t be instant, because altering your soil pH is not a quick thing, but you’ll end up with blue blooms on one side and pink on the other, shading to a delightful mix in the middle.

Our mostly acidic soil is why, even if you plant a pink hydrangea, it’s probably going to turn into a blue-flowered plant.

Why is pH important?

Some plants like acidic soil, some thrive in more neutral soil, some like more lime.

The easiest way I’ve found to explain pH is this: If you go to a restaurant and order a glass of sweet tea, if that restaurant fixes tea the right way … cooking the tea and mixing the sugar in while the tea is hot, everything is copacetic. If they give you a glass of ice tea and packets of sugar, no matter how much sugar you add or how much you stir, stir, stir … the tea will never absorb the sugar. The sugar will sit in the bottom of the glass, there but useless.

Plants are like that glass of tea. If the pH of your soil isn’t right for the type of plant you’re trying to grow, no matter how much fertilizer you throw at it, like that sugar sitting uselessly in the bottom of your glass of tea, the plant isn’t able to absorb the nutrients.

How do you know what your pH is, and how do you change it?

There are inexpensive kits similar to pool testers. All you need to use those is a bit of your soil, a bit of water, preferably bottled, and one of the capsules included in the test kit. Then you simply match the color of your concoction to the provided chart. Those are a good general indicator, and there are also more precise, probe-type, handheld pH meters, something like a meat thermometer.

Better still, a more accurate way to test your soil is to pick up some soil sample boxes along with an information sheet and send both to the soil testing section of the North Carolina Department of Agriculture. As long as you send in your samples BEFORE Thanksgiving and AFTER April, there is no charge except postage. There is a charge in effect during the winter months because farmers are given priority then. In about three weeks, you’ll have your results!

We try to keep the sample boxes at the Newport Garden Center, or you can swing by your local Ag Extension office. The results will tell you exactly how much of which fertilizer is needed, whether you’re trying for a golf-course-worthy lawn or aiming for the prizewinning giant whatever in your garden.

Fall is the perfect time to send in your samples, because whether you need to add lime or sulfur, both need a while to take effect.

Putting out either without a soil test is like adding salt to something you have yet to taste. You might end up with an okay meal, or you might need to add more, or it might turn out to have so much salt it’s crunchy.

Not only can a pH imbalance inhibit plants from absorbing nutrients, it can also cause toxicity by allowing plants to absorb too much of the wrong thing.

A pH imbalance is why you can’t successfully plant things like blueberries and figs, for example, in the same area. Blueberries demand an acidic soil, and figs thrive on limey soil. Put the two together and it’s like trying to put a penguin and a monkey on an iceberg. One’s going to be extremely happy and the other … well, it isn’t going to live long.

Things that can affect pH are soil type, amount of rainfall, fertilizers, vegetation, temperature, and organic matter.

Most of the time you can correct pH by amending the soil. Sometimes the pH is just too far out of whack to correct it to the degree needed. In that case, it’s better to just give in and grow something else. For instance, centipede grass likes a low pH. If your pH is really high, you might be better off trying to grow something that likes a higher pH. Same with gardens.

Penguins or monkeys? You decide.

“Father, oh father, Please let me go with thee.
I long to see old England, across the deep blue sea.”

— From “The Rum Barrel Girl” by Gumbo Lily

I was on a morning run in the crisp fall air with golden aspen leaves littering the ground like an abstract mosaic. The crunching of leaves under my footsteps caused a red fox to raise its head, catching my attention. Peering at me from around a headstone, I stopped. We stared at each other for a few seconds, then the fox went about its business mousing for rodents.

Old cemeteries, especially those with old-growth trees, are perfect habitat for a variety of animals such as foxes, deer, rabbits and owls. This is why I seek them out; the older the better. I abandoned my run and began walking the pathways between the headstones looking for wildlife. High up in a lanky pine tree, a raven scolded an oblivious great horned owl.

As I stepped between the graves, one headstone caught my eye. The entire gravesite was a memorial covered with mementoes. A basketball, stuffed animals, angel figurines, flowers, toy horses, lariats and cowboy boots. There was even a ball cap with the words, “Beach Cowgirl” printed on the crown. The gifts spoke of an adored and obviously beloved young girl.

Related: Special tour to give voices to Beaufort’s oldest residents

Curiously out of place at the base of the grave was a seashell. Not a tourist-bought, clean and polished seashell, but a raw, ocean-tumbled helmet shell that you would find along the beaches of the East Coast.

The owl, the grave and the seashell caused synapses to fire in my brain like a pinball lighting up memories.

As if in a trance, I was teleported back to the Old Burying Ground in Beaufort, North Carolina. Here I have searched the live oak trees for the great horned owls, where they nest year after year, near the grave of the intriguing “rum keg girl.”

With burials starting in the early 1700s, the Old Burying Ground is on the National Register of Historic Places.

Primordial looking live oak trees drape their branches creating a canopy of shade over the headstones. Twisted arms of wisteria grip any surface like a rat snake climbing a tree while patches of ivy and ferns fill unclaimed ground. Time and weathering have erased the etchings on some headstones, leaving the epitaphs unreadable. Moss and lichens have colonized most stonework throughout the grounds in a patina of time.

Surrounded by concrete and wrought-iron fencing, tombstones and monuments stand low and tall, from modest to elaborate. Placement of family plots and individual graves appears helter-skelter, resulting in a maze of paths that weave among the graves.

Upon entering the gated churchyard, visitors can soak up the history while taking a self-guided tour. With 28 points of interest, the tour features Capt. Otway Burns, “naval hero of the War of 1812,” a British officer reported to be buried standing up in full uniform, the crew of the shipwreck known as the Crissie Wright, and of Jechonias Willis, a soldier who died during the siege of Fort Macon.

Yet, on stop No. 24, people are stunned when they come upon the resting place of a young girl buried in a keg of rum. Listed on the tour brochure simply as, “Girl in Barrel of Rum,” this story has captivated people for years.

I have read numerous accounts of the story and here is what I have pieced together.

In the mid-1700s, a merchant captain, named Sloo, possibly a Nathaniel Sloo, arrived from England to Beaufort with his wife and infant daughter, where he built a stunning house on Front Street with a splendid view of the water.

As the child grew, her homesick mother regaled her with stories of England. Fascinated by the tales of her homeland, the child dreamed of visiting there someday. The captain often set across the ocean to England and his darling daughter pleaded to take the voyage with him. Fraught with danger, the journey for a young child was just too risky. Her begging was denied. With persistence, and the passage of time, at 12 years old, her wish was finally granted. With his wife still unsure, Sloo pledged to return with his dearest daughter. The voyage to England was uneventful and she delightfully reveled in the land of her birth.

On the passage home, tragedy struck and the girl fell ill and died. Horrified and heartbroken, he was unable to slide his sweet daughter off a plank into the cold Atlantic for a burial at sea. Haunted by his vow, Sloo would return with his child.

Pretty heartbreaking stuff, but is the story true, a legend or folklore? There isn’t really any documentation on record that can authenticate the burial of a child named Sloo in the Old Burying Grounds.

As they sailed west across the ocean, the captain pickled her remains in a keg full of rum. Upon return to Beaufort, the distraught mother did not want to disturb her baby’s body. The captain’s wife agreed to bury the little girl still encased, like a cocoon, inside the keg of rum.

Records do show that a Nathaniel Sloo did own a lot on Front Street in 1768, however he quickly sold the lot, never building a house on the property. This is the only documentation that can reliably place a man named Sloo with a presence in Beaufort.

In a few the stories, Nathaniel Sloo is referenced as the seafaring captain and father of the rum keg girl. Yet, there is no archival provenance that references the name of his wife, his daughter, or the burial.

The grave is marked with a primitive looking wooden plank with the words “Little Girl Buried in Rum Keg” carved into the surface. I read in one publication that the wood is a “slab of cypress more than two hundred years old.”

Even assuming that this is the original marker, I don’t think that any loving parents would omit their child’s name on the marker. The wording on the marker just seems to sensationalize the burial and not honor the deceased.

But maybe the story isn’t so far-fetched, there are other accounts of people being buried in a barrel of spirits. The Oakdale Cemetery in Wilmington has its own “girl in the barrel” who died in 1857. The daughter of a merchant captain, Nancy Martin, sailed with her father on a lengthy trading excursion. Nancy is thought to have fallen victim to yellow fever and died at age 24 in Cuba. Secured in a sitting position on a chair, her body was placed in hogshead of liquor for the return trip to Wilmington for burial in the family plot.

In the Old Cutler Cemetery in Maine, Jeanette Corbett is said to also be buried in a cask filled with rum in 1873. Known as the “Lady in a Rum Cask,” Corbett died while with her merchant captain husband on a trading trip to Cuba.

While dying, she insisted to be buried in her home state of Maine. A new bride at 26 years old, she was preserved in the intoxicant for the passage home. Fearing that she might have died of yellow fever and could infect others, she was left in the barrel for burial.

So, there are other accounts of people spending their eternal rest soaking in a barrel of alcohol.

In 2016, the rum keg girl grave gained some unwanted notoriety when the Beaufort police and fire departments responded to a report of a fire on the Old Burying Ground. When they arrived, they found the grave had been desecrated. Set ablaze for some cryptic reason by a vandal.

Her story has intrigued the interest of musicians, inspiring the haunting song, “The Rum Barrel Girl” by the North Carolina Americana band, Gumbo Lily. A chance visit to the grave site influenced writer Katy Simpson Smith to pen the 2014 novel, “The Story of Land and Sea.”

I was able to speak with Patricia Suggs, executive director of the Beaufort Historical Association, which offers guided tours of the Old Burying Ground. She more than hinted that it is entirely possible that the rum keg girl story could be a fanciful fabrication. She stated that the story could have been conjured up and given life by a storytelling group called the Fishtown Liars in the 1960s.

The group conducted tours on the history of Beaufort including the Old Burying Ground. To keep their tales entertaining, it is said they never let the truth get in the way of a good story. I think it is fair to say that this story is now part of the town’s oral history.

Today, the grave continues to attract tourists, history buffs and the curious. Pilgrimages are made to adorn the grave with stuffed animals, toys, bead necklaces, bracelets, coins, flowers and lots of seashells. The last time I visited, there was even a colorful kite propped above the vaulted grave.

Piling up like cairns, these tributes need to be regularly removed by the site managers. Soon enough, though, the decorations will again quickly accumulate, covering the grave.

Legend, folklore, myth or fact, the rum keg girl lives on. Stories persist that she comes out at night and runs around the cemetery, her own haunted playground. Gifts left at her grave mysteriously move around to different locations. Listen closely and you can even hear her humming.

It is a captivating story weaved into the fabric of Beaufort’s cultural heritage. It is an enduring story that will continue to fascinate people for years to come – a story too good not to be told, nor forgotten.

Is it fact or fiction?

You decide.

I like to think that the story is true and that her spirit drifts high through the tangle of branches hovering above the graveyard. Many cultures believe that owls are the spirits of people that have passed on.

Perhaps she lives on through the generations of great horned owls that glide through the twisted, moss-covered limbs of the ancient oak trees in the Old Burying Ground.

There are some old fishing maxims that people throw around a lot, and a lot of them are misunderstood.

One in particular that really confuses people is, “Just follow the birds.”

I’ve been riding in the boat with novice anglers as they point out every bird they see as if that will lead them to the Promised Land. While it is true that birds tell us a lot of what is going on out there, it’s important to understand what each type of bird is, how it fishes, and what it means to us as anglers.

Let’s go through the most popular ones that we’ll see on our coast on any given day.

Pelicans

We’ll start with perhaps our most unusual bird, the pelican. As noted by American poet and journalist Dixon Lanier Merritt, “Oh, a wondrous bird is the pelican! His beak holds more than his belican.”

As we see them skimming the wavetops or gliding across a causeway, they are always looking into the water. They can see schools of fish a foot or two under the water and unerringly dive on top of them and scoop them up into their balloon-like bills. I have often seen them diving without a gamefish of any kind for miles in any direction. However, they can be helpful.

I was with a friend fishing a shoreline in the New River near Sneads Ferry and not having much luck. I noticed pelicans diving on mullet schools well out away from the shore. I could see mullet skipping every which way as the pelicans would fly over. We casually cruised over to the area and started making casts with our topwater plugs. We both hooked up on solid speckled trout almost right away and continued to do so the rest of the day.

Another time that pelicans can help us is during the fall migrations. When large concentrations of glass minnows are running the beach, you might see pelicans diving on them. Look for the cloud of bait in the water. If you’re really lucky, you may see them doing what I call “rafting,” where a dozen or more will be sitting on the surface just dipping their beaks into a bait ball of glass minnows or bay anchovies. Either of these situations is often accompanied by schools of feeding false albacore, bluefish or Spanish mackerel, and it’s worth throwing a small jig or minnow imitating fly.

So, the moral here is, if you’re not doing very well, and trying to figure out where your next cast should be, at least let the pelicans tell you where the bait fish are, and hopefully something bigger will be just behind.

Shorebirds

Next is wading birds: herons, egrets and other shorebirds. While not necessarily a bird you’ll be searching for, if you are fishing in a creek or marsh and wondering if there’s any life there, a heron wading the shoreline will at least alert you to the presence of small baitfish. This can be just the sign you need to make a few casts.

I have even pulled into a canal with docks and lifts and was just about to turn around when I saw a heron. I stopped and made “One More Cast.” Boom! A redfish ate my soft plastic jerkbait and I stayed there and caught fish until the tide ran out two hours later. It doesn’t happen a whole lot. But it’s worth paying attention.

Arctic terns are present here most of the summer. They are helpful to a point. They will definitely alert you to the presence of baitfish. But since they can dive under and pick them off with no help from below, they are not always good indicators of gamefish activity below.

Having said that there will be times in the summer when you will see terns diving and Spanish mackerel breaking the surface sporadically. Trolling is a good option in these situations because the fish will be spread out. I still prefer casting a small spoon or fly.

Other seabirds

Another bird that dives deep on small fish is the gannet. These will show up in our waters in late fall as larger schools of menhaden begin to arrive. They will dive from pretty high, cross their wingtips behind them, and enter the water like an Olympic diver. Often, they can go down to depths exceeding 70 feet.

Gannets are a good indicator of menhaden. Northeast striped bass fishermen love them because it will lead them to striped bass and big bluefish. Sometimes large red drum will be under our menhaden schools and possibly king mackerel. But it’s not a guarantee.

I’ve caught more sharks on jigs bumped under these schools than anything else.

Gulls are the No. 1 bird that anglers should concern themselves with.

In the summer we will see a lot of the laughing gulls, they have black heads and make that distinctive “laughing” call. Later on in the summer and into fall, we will see the little gray gulls called ring-beaked gulls.

If you are driving your boat across the water and look up to see a flock of gulls walking along the avenue, it’s worth checking out. They are voracious feeders and are always on the lookout for an easy meal. That means that they don’t often dive into the water like gannets or terns, but when a school of gamefish has baitfish on the move, they will notice and be right there when the minnows push out of the water to escape the jaws below. It is the gulls who will be there to pick up the ones the fish miss out on. It’s pretty frantic.

I always tell people to look for gulls “dancing” on the surface. This is when it’s really on. The action below is so frantic that the gulls don’t even want to pick up and fly up but want to stay as close to the surface as they can. This is a sure sign of false albacore, bluefish, or Spanish mackerel and will often lead to a day full of memories, which is what it’s all about really.

Spring tends to light up our imaginations after a long, few months of little color, but fall can just as much.

Besides the red-yellow-orange palette we associate with changing leaf colors as trees trade out their summer greens for autumn glory, fall boasts a host of other shades.

Without the summer haze of humidity, the sky seems bigger, somehow bluer, as it turns into a huge azure bowl. The air becomes crisper, laden with the scents of burning leaves — ever notice how distinctive smoke smells in the fall?

Along with the change in weather, our tastebuds change. All summer we yearn for salads and light meals. Fall makes us crave heavier fare. Chili, soup, beans and cornbread, roasts accompanied by tons of root vegetables alongside hot biscuits slathered in butter, apple pies and apple butter and hot apple cider.

Our modern lives often make us feel disconnected from nature, but even if we don’t think we notice, thousands of years of living on this planet ensure our bodies remember the changing seasons. The distinction is as engrained in humans as it is in plants and animals.

Plants other than trees give us hints of the coming cooler weather. From the light purple of wild ageratum (Conoclinium coelestium) to the silvery dew-spangled spiderwebs that seem to be everywhere this time of year to the bright gold of goldenrod (Solidago) and the luminescent yellows of swamp sunflower (Helianthus angustifolius) to the white of saltbush (Baccharis halimifolia), signs of fall are everywhere.

Interestingly enough, and even though they all look very different, ageratum, goldenrod, swamp sunflower, and saltbush are all in the daisy (Asteraceae) family. Tough native perennials, they can become invasive, to the point many people don’t like them. With few disease or insect problems, these hardy natives are a late season boon to pollinators.

Some leaves turn yellow, some, orange, some red, some brown, and some a glorious combination. Oaks tend to be bronzes and rusts while maples and dogwoods are redder. Keep in mind, one of the most brilliantly gorgeous shades of red belongs to … poison ivy, so if you’re picking specimens for fall bouquets or arrangements … “leaves of three, leave it be.”

But why do trees change color? It’s not simply to make us “ooh” and “ahh.” Some trees don’t change much at all, their leaves just drop. Evergreen trees, hence the name, like pine trees, stay green year-round. Some trees, such as live oaks (Quercus virginiana) and bald cypress (Taxodium distichum) hold onto this year’s leaves until newly emerging leaves in the spring push the old ones out of the way. Although, from what I’ve read, cypress trees are supposed to lose their leaves in the fall. A great many of the ones around here do not, making them look dead, rather than trees that are nothing but bare branches.

Trees lose leaves because it is a vital part of keeping them alive.

Leaves are green in the spring and summer because of chlorophyll. Chlorophyll is the chemical that enables leaves to absorb energy from sunlight, called photosynthesis. Using photosynthesis allows the leaves to convert energy into sugars in order to feed the tree.

When temperatures start to drop and days begin to get shorter, the chlorophyll in the leaves begins to break down. The lack of chlorophyll is what reveals the yellow and orange pigments, or carotenoids, that are present but masked during the summer.

Red pigments are caused by a different chemical change. Sugars that get trapped in the leaves produce pigments called anthocyanins.

What determines the level and brilliance of the colors? Weather conditions, with temperature and moisture being the main influences. Warm, sunny days, with crisp but not freezing nights usually causes the best displays. The amount of rainfall, and thus the moisture of the soil, also has a great bearing on whether or not we get an amazing array of fall colors or merely a blah handoff.

Another reason deciduous trees lose leaves is because their leaves are thin and tender, filled with watery sap that freezes easily. When the days become shorter and start cooling off, trees begin sealing the ends of their leaf stems off — kind of like putting your storm windows in place — and pulling their sap down to their roots.

Evergreens, such as pines and cypress, have a heavy wax coating on their needles and scales, and those contain an antifreeze-like fluid that keeps them from freezing.

So what happens to all the leaves and needles that fall? Other than the ones humans spend incalculable hours raking and disposing of?

They’re not wasted, for sure!

Left to themselves, leaves slowly decompose. The original leaf drop covers the ground around the base of the tree, providing essential mulch. This also creates the spongy layer of the forest that absorbs and holds rainfall and keeps the soil from washing away. As this mulch decomposes, it not only returns vital nutrients to the soil, it provides invaluable food and habitat for earthworms and snails and turtles and toads and toadstools and many, many organisms that make up the forest ecosystem.

While humans remain stumped as to some of the myriad interactions, we are understanding more about these puzzles all the time. Like the existence of mycelium — threads of incredibly tiny fungal organisms composing a “mycelium network” so plants can share nutrients.

The leaves that blow around, looking like herds of lemmings scurrying down the road, or a huge dance troupe staging an on-pointe flash performance, are being returned to, and in the process of, making new soil.

As they dry up and get whisked hither and yon, little pieces of them break off. Like individual grains of sand creating and nourishing a beach, eventually those little pieces will become a part of a new batch of soil, enabling plants to grow and holding the planet in place. Some day one of those plants will become a tree, and the cycle will begin all over again.

The allure of the coast is not confined to people who grew up on it or near it; it crosses county and state lines and reaches out to people who live far away.

Some people live their whole lives in places like Kansas or Nebraska, and as soon as they see the ocean, they can never go home again. It’s even a theme in literature, for example, in “Lord of the Rings,” Galadriel tells Legolas “Beware of the Sea! If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.”

For most, it’s not quite as dramatic. They come to visit, feel the pull, but can’t leave home, so they visit as often as they can and get as much enjoyment out of it as possible for whatever period of time they are there. And so it is with Neill Pollock. He is from Charlotte.

While that may not seem too far away, it’s still an almost five-hour drive from his home to his favorite place in Atlantic Beach. With gas prices being what they are, it’s a financial commitment as well. There’s just something about the coast that brings him back to spend time with his family and to experience fishing that he can’t do otherwise.

Neill grew up loving to fish but not having many options available to him, “I grew up in Charlotte without a ton of fishing opportunities, so golf course ponds were where I cut my teeth until around 11 or 12 years old.”

It was around that time when he started to get a better fishing education.

“My grandfather, Warren Pollock, started taking me to fish the mountain streams around Linville and Banner Elk. He was always my biggest influence in outdoor activities.”

Neill and his grandfather spent a lot of time together until the elder’s passing in 2017.

“We hunted and fished together growing up, until his age prevented him from going anymore.”

In my columns, I’ve tried to illustrate time and again how the influence of a mentor can drive a young person to a fulfilling lifetime activity. It’s important for us to remember this and do what we can.

These days Neill lives with his family near Charlotte and runs a contracting business.

“Currently, I own and operate a remodeling company. I spent 16 years behind a desk as a graphic designer before venturing out on my own as a real estate agent. A slow market had me doing side remodeling jobs, which turned into the creation of Red Oak Contracting.”

His family likes the outdoors and fishing too, but in moderation.

“I have been married for 15 years to my wonderful wife Missy. We have one daughter, Mia, who is way more into dancing than she is the outdoors, but gets out with me from time to time. She really enjoys float trips on the tailwaters in Eastern Tennessee.”

Neill said he thinks that she’ll get more into outdoors adventures as she goes along. His wife enjoys boating and going to the beach, and they all take trips together to Atlantic Beach several times a year.

Neill has a long list of saltwater fishing accomplishments including an 8-pound speckled trout caught on a topwater plug.

“Fishing on an early summer morning, I hooked by far my largest trout. Would have been perfectly happy if that was the last fish we caught that morning.”

He has the perspective of a seasoned angler and knows that to catch a fish like that makes the entire day and nothing else is really needed. As has been stated in this column before, sometimes catching a fish isn’t the only thing that makes for a good day.

“I think people get too wrapped up in the ‘catching’ aspect of fishing. Sure, that’s what we are out there to do but enjoying the water and surroundings is what we should really strive for.”

In that vein, Neill has a specific type of fishing he enjoys the most, a way that is not known for always producing the most poundage, but concentrates on the method.

“Fly fishing is my passion! There is nothing more relaxing and exciting at the same time.”

Neill says that fishing with a fly rod helps him feel more connected to what he is doing.

“I get the feeling with fly-fishing that you are more connected to the environment and the fish. Due to the fact that to succeed you need to know exactly what the fish are doing, it’s just a more intimate experience with nature.”

Neill gives credit to his friends that help him out when he goes to the coast. He realizes how difficult it is to stay on top of the fish when you have to travel.

“I have to admit, living in the Piedmont, I rely heavily on my connections at the coast for intel.”

Among all the things that you need to know, he realizes that information may be the most valuable.

“Keep your mouth shut when you get info and it will go a long way.”

He adds that we should never be afraid to try something new when we’re out there. You just never know what it could pull up.

“Never be afraid to try something new. Look for new spots on different tides, you might be surprised what you can find.”

Whether you’re a fig aficionado or the only contact you’ve ever had with figs is spotting a package of Fig Newtons on the cookie aisle, figs are amazing!

Technically not fruit, figs are actually an inverted flower.

While there are only two figs native to the United States — the strangler fig (Ficus aurea) and shortleaf fig (Ficus citrifolia), both mostly found in Florida — there are literally hundreds of varieties of common figs (Ficus carica). Both plants and figs come in multiple sizes.

Most originally associated with the Mediterranean, as well as western and southern Asia, and having been cultivated since ancient times, figs have since spread throughout the world.

Much easier to grow in our area than say, apples or peaches, figs abound. Because they are uniquely portable and they love our climate, figs do well here.

Brought here across the ocean by the early settlers, uniquely portable in that no live plant is needed, especially on small ships — have you ever seen the replicas of the Nina or the Pinta in Beaufort? They look more like sketchy dinghies you wouldn’t dare go out of Taylors Creek in, much less brave crossing the Atlantic. Especially if, as most passengers were, one was required to remain below decks! Those people were tough and determined to make better lives for themselves in the New World.

Part of that better life included bringing starts from the Old World and hoping they’d take root and thrive here. The only thing needed to get a fig going is a cutting. A stick. One that doesn’t even have to have roots or soil.

So, on our theoretical journey in the hold of a ship that could qualify for ship-in-a-bottle status, there would be no need to waste precious water on keeping a plant alive. Besides, plants have to have sunlight, also in short supply when you’re stuck in the hold.

Once the travelers reached land, all they had to do was pick a place to stob their stick and keep it watered. Planted in the right spot, figs can grow fast, and they can get big.

There are numerous named varieties of figs, such as brown turkey, Celeste, Chicago, black mission. Partly because figs are so easy to propagate, most of the time we are uncertain just which variety we have access to, especially around here, although brown turkey is widespread, as is Celeste.

Confounding the identification, cuttings tend to be named for who or where they came from. Thus we end up with Grandpa Joe’s fig, or Aunt Thelma’s fig, or Davis Island fig, or any of a million other colloquial names. Not that a name matters too much as long as you’re not set on a particular variety and it’s a tasty fig.

Ocracoke seems to have a good handle on fig varieties, as evidenced by their annual Fig Festival the first weekend of August. Some of those varieties have been on the island for hundreds of years. They sell items made with figs — jams, jellies, preserves, cakes — and rooted cuttings.

Figs like limey soil, full sun, and a lot of water. Not standing water, just a lot of water. They do well on the beach because of the shell content, and you may have seen older folks pile oyster shells around the base of their figs. Not only did the shells provide calcium — lime can be made out of burnt oyster shells — the figs derived nutrients from the bits of oyster and seaweed clinging to the shells. Bonus, it kept the weeds down.

Because they come from cuttings, figs are clones of the mother plant. The fig you get from a cutting will be exactly the type of fig the cutting came from. Since the cuttings don’t know they aren’t still part of the mother plant, they often bear the first year. Maybe not much, but a few. Figs can be started from seed, but that’s a whole process and you might not get a plant with an edible fig, depending on how the seed got pollinated.

Some figs are parthenocarpic, which means they don’t need to be pollinated, and it also means you only need one plant to ensure a good crop. Some figs are pollinated by tiny wasps.

Most of us can readily recognize fig plants when we see them. Did you know figs are in the same family (Moraceae) as mulberries? If you look closer, you’ll notice fig leaves aren’t all the same shape. Just like mulberries, fig leaves can be any of several different shapes.

Figs are pretty much done for this year. The leaves will drop soon and the plants will go dormant, but for now the leaves still smell delicious. Some people swear by them for making tea as a panacea for a whole host of ailments. Fig leaves have been used as such for thousands of years.

Cuttings can technically be taken any time of year, but … not only are the leaves prickly and scratchy like okra, leaves and stems produce a sticky, milky white sap full of furocoumarins that can be a skin irritant, especially when exposed to sunlight. In extremely sensitive people, contact can cause severe burns. On the other hand, the sap can also be used in medicines. Crazy, huh?

Wait until about December, when the leaves have dropped and the sap has retreated. Taking a cutting is as simple as … taking a cutting. The ones that seem to do the best are the straight branches, about the size of your index finger or a little larger diameter. You can do tip-end cuttings only, or you can cut a long branch and section it off in about 4-inch pieces. Stick more than you want because only about 85% of them will root. Any sort of good potting soil can be used, and large pots can hold multiple cuttings. Push them into the dirt enough to make them stand up. Pushing them all the way to the bottom will prohibit roots from forming. Keep them watered. Once they leaf out, usually in a couple months, they’ve generally rooted and can be moved to their own pots.

Most people probably know that the state fish of North Carolina is red drum, or also called redfish. The state keeps records of catches of recreational fishermen and apparently a whole lot of people who fish in saltwater in North Carolina don’t really catch very many red drum.

Why do you suppose that is?

I expect it is because people go fishing and just look to catch whatever swims by. If you want to catch Mr. Red, you have to target him. Let’s talk about finding them and maximizing the opportunities for you to catch one when you want to.   

Let’s start with everybody’s favorite time of the year, spring and early summer. At this time of year red drum are very active, eat lots of things and can be targeted in myriad ways. My favorite way has always been a fly rod.

I target fish feeding in visible areas on the edges of creeks and flats as they are looking for shrimp and baitfish. In the same places, casting a surface plug or a shallow running lure like a gold spoon in creeks and flats can produce fish as they cruise.

Capt. Rick Patterson of Cape Crusader Charters will target red drum on cut chunks of menhaden at the mouth of creeks on the outgoing tide. He will rig under a popping cork float to keep the hook from catching on the bottom, as there are often oyster shells and lots of other things to get snagged on.

At this time of year red drum will be in the places that you find them. By that I mean that they’re spread out and highly active. As they move from place to place, they will find locations they like better than others. When you find a good spot, they will often return to the same place over and over, so don’t overfish them. You can clean them out.

With that in mind, fishing bait chunks should only be done with circle hooks and the trebles on surface plugs should be replaced with single hooks. These simple changes will make it easier to release fish that you are going to let go. Don’t kill your limit.

One of the things I was well known for was targeting redfish during high tides on the spartina grass flats with my fly rod. I was among a few innovators of this specialized fishery in the 1990s, targeting specific fish, sight feeding in the super-shallow, clear water that is pretty unique to coastal North and South Carolina.

In late summer, an incredible event that happens in North Carolina waters will lead to huge red drum in shallow areas along the Neuse River. You have probably seen the pictures of people holding up redfish in the 50-inch range on their laps. I like to call this style of photos “lap dances.” This leads to huge fish being caught — if you know how to target them.

You’re probably going catch the biggest fish you’ve ever caught in pretty shallow water. It doesn’t even take that much effort if you have a little foreknowledge. Once again, we’ll ask Capt. Rick for a couple of ideas how to look for these monsters.

“You can’t go wrong with cut bait on a Carolina Rig. Shad, mullet, croakers — just about anything will work,” Patterson said. He has specific areas in which he looks for them. “I like to fish the shoals on the main river shore. Long points are good also.”

You can also catch them on artificial lures if you know what you’re looking for, he advises.

“Use popping corks with plastic baits: Gulp, Z-man, or whatever you have confidence in,” he said. “Top water and swim baits if you can find them schooling on bait.”

The latter actually happens more frequently than you would expect. When it does, it’s pretty exciting. Be prepared.

Let me point out that this is strictly a catch-and-release fishery because all the fish are above the upper slot limit and they are spawning. It’s critically important to the overall health of the fishery. Use heavy gear. Get them to the boat rapidly for a quick picture and let them go. The fish should not be inside the boat for more than 30 or 45 seconds.

As the water cools through the fall and into the winter, this is my favorite time to target red drum. It’s not uncommon to catch and release upwards of 30 to 40 or more in a day. The secret lies in finding them in the first place. When you find one you will have found them all. If you don’t find any, you won’t catch anything. It’s an all-or-nothing situation.

Look for deeper holes with marshy areas in channels wending back — the deepest spot you can find. It may only be a foot or so deeper than the rest, but when you find the spot, you’ll know. The fish will pile up inside it and you’ll get plenty of bites in a short period of time. But until you find them, it will seem like there’s nothing there at all.

My favorite type of lure to use is a soft plastic artificial shrimp such as the DOA or Zman. Colors can be anything from kind of bland to fluorescent green. The point is the fish are very hungry but there are not a lot of food options available and they will hit most anything that you can throw in there.

The best bite is usually on the outgoing tide, and be aware that the bottom is full of shells, so be prepared to deal with the shallow water. Don’t use bait in this situation because the fish are so aggressive anyway. It’s a waste of money and time.

Again, let me add to please be responsible for the fish that you’re catching. Release them quickly. You could be catching a lot. Treat them well and they’ll be there for you to catch again and again. A lot of pressure can really clean a school of fish out of an area quickly. A particular area where I used to do this type of fishing all time in the winter is now pretty much devoid of fish due to it being too popular and getting too much pressure. The fish have been cleaned out over the years.

If you can follow these instructions, you are going find that you can catch a few red drum this year. This is not by any means meant to be a comprehensive list of ways to catch red drum, but these are just some quick and dirty ways to target the fish that we love to catch.

Just make sure to take care of them, so we will always have them in the future.

While most people think spring is the best time to plant a garden, we in the South are blessed to have two planting seasons, and the fall planting season is upon us.

The temperature may still be well into the miserable range, but signs of fall are all around.

Resembling tiny brown paper bags tied at the top, egg sacs from Argiope aurantia — the golden orb-weaver spider, aka zipper spider, or writing spider — are tucked here and there. The spiders have already finished their life’s work, leaving no messages behind, only their tattered webs, slowly disintegrating, and hopefully next year’s progeny.

Pieris rapae, those pesky whitish-yellow, zig-zaggy butterflies are everywhere, laying eggs on our cole crops, eggs that then turn into hungry, hungry caterpillars. Unlike the slow, swoopy swallowtails and monarchs we dote on, the sulphurs, or Phoebis sennae, and white cabbage moths seem to avoid being hit by cars like they’re magically allergic to metal.

Muscadines are ripening, filling the air with their heady scent, and sweet autumn clematis is blooming, festooning and perfuming hedgerows with lacy shawls.

Persimmons are filling out and getting ready to change colors, although it rarely gets cold enough here to ripen them before the raccoons and deer and other critters eat them all. Trust me … If you think dark green, unfrosted collards are bitter, they have nothing on unripe persimmons. They will turn your mouth inside-out like wet cardboard soaked in alum.

Gardening here is challenging enough with our sandy soil, deficient in nutrients, although weeds grow like … weeds. On steroids. Add in salt-laden, extremely windy air, excessive heat and humidity, abundant insects and diseases, and it’s a recipe for a first-class ticket on the struggle-bus.

And yet, those of us who can’t help ourselves keep right on trying.

Fall crops tend to do better with a little less work involved. Once we make it past the heat and into cooler weather, there should be fewer insects, less disease. If we’re really lucky, even fewer weeds to compete with what we actually want to grow.

People used to start planting here around the middle of July. Then it started staying hotter longer. So, they backed off to the middle of August. Now, even that’s still too hot for seedlings that need cool weather to survive and thrive.

Most folks have held off even later, until around the first of September. For about the last 15 years or better, somewhere along the second week in September, we’ve either gotten a 10-inch rain, or a hurricane, or both. So, many gardeners have started waiting later still, until about the middle of September to plant their fall crops.

Remember when we used to get a frost — or at least a nor’easter with its attendant cool spell — about the middle of September? October at the latest? Sure, it would warm back up, but we knew it would soon cool off for at least a couple of months. Now we’re lucky to get our first frost by December, and we rarely get more than a day or two of cold here and there.

So, unavoidable weather woes aside … What can you plant now?

As far as actual seedlings, it is time for collards, cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower and brussels sprouts. Beets and chard are good candidates, too, along with rutabagas and bak choi, lettuce and spinach – although the latter two are even less heat-tolerant, so planting them later won’t hurt anything.

Most fall crops can be planted from seed as well, although if you’re starting from seed, it might be getting a tad late for some of them, such as broccoli and cauliflower. While they need some cool weather, cooler temps also mean the plants don’t grow as fast, so they need to be a certain size before it cools down in order to produce.

Cool-weather crops tend to have smaller seeds, than, say, green beans or cucumbers or other warm-season crops. Because the seeds are so much tinier, it is even more of a struggle to get them to germinate during 90-degree-plus weather. If you haven’t walked barefoot on the beach, you probably don’t realize just how insanely hot sunbaked soil can get! Those tiny seeds contain very little life support, so if they germinate and it’s blisteringly hot, they wither and die, making you assume they never germinated.

Crops that do well from seed include beets, carrots, rutabagas, turnips, and salad greens, such as rape, kale, mustard, spinach and lettuces, even a few late radishes, if you’re so inclined. Maybe even try some snow peas or May peas. If you like spring or green onions, they should be available to plant around mid-September.

If you’re planting winter rye grass, or clover for cover crops or bee forage, plan for mid-September. Most people only think about planting rye when their neighbor’s yard stays green all winter, and clover when they see it blooming in the spring. Rye is a cool-season annual that dies out when it gets too hot. Clover is also a cool-weather crop, needing to germinate in the fall so it can get its roots established before the next summer, when it gets too hot and clover either dies or goes dormant.

As far as diseases and insects, wet weather and dry weather each bring their own challenges.

Too much rain and you get root rot and funguses.

Too much dry weather and you get stunted plants and sometimes spider mites and grasshoppers. Those huge green grasshoppers have been lurking all summer, just waiting for you to provide them with their last meal.

Then there are aphids, those under-leaf pests that are like plant leeches and just love tender new growth; scorch bugs; stink bugs; cabbage loopers.

All of the above are well aware of the fall push and are trying to get the last word so they can return next year and make you miserable again.

On the other hand, all of those are prime fodder for birds, spiders, wasps, lizards and skinks.

Despite all the deterrents, gardening is still a pleasure for many of us, and nothing beats the taste of homegrown produce!

What are your expectations when you’re out fishing? Do you just want to spend the time sitting by the water? Do you expect always to catch the most or biggest fish, or some other lofty type goal?

How we look at the day before we even go out has a lot to do with how the day ends up being in the long run. If we decide ahead of time to take the joy that the day sends us, we will all be a lot happier. Yes, of course we would like to catch a couple fish, or maybe a big fish, but that should not be the ultimate goal of the day out on the water.

Many times, you’re not going to catch anything. That’s the way fishing goes. Oftentimes, even the most experienced and skilled angler can spend the day on the water and not come home with anything but stories.

There were many years that I considered myself kind of a big-time fly-fishing guide. I traveled the around the continent and fished from Alaska to Florida to back home here in North Carolina. I saw a lot of things from a lot of people who showed a lot of themselves.

Among the more notable things that I did was to be among the innovators of the autumn false albacore fishery at Cape Lookout. It’s an amazing fishery if you’ve been around it, and you may know that people come here from all across the country.

These two dudes came down to fish with me from Arlington, Virginia. They talked about all the places they had been and the fishing that they had done. We got out there and almost immediately there was a huge blitz of feeding fish on the surface. Big fish. By the time it was over, four hours later, both anglers had boated multiple fish in the 20-pound class and had seen things that people only dream about: Huge fish blowing out of the water; walls of albacore feeding into the current; huge clouds of seagulls feeding on and chasing bait fish seemingly to the horizon; whales crashing out of the water. Amazing.

Then things changed. It got very windy and the guys couldn’t make any kind of casts in the conditions. It was very difficult and they did not land another fish in the second half of the day, even though they had many opportunities.

That’s the way it goes sometimes. It’s difficult.

When it was over, we were driving back to the dock. I looked to the guys and said, “That was pretty awesome, wasn’t it?” They both looked at me with sadness in their eyes. “What’s the problem?” I asked.

The one guy then replied, “I thought we would catch more fish.”

Baffled, I responded by stating, “Dude, that’s as good as it gets here. That was the show.”

They were not to be mollified.

A man from Durham came to fish with me years ago. The plan was to spend an evening fly fishing to redfish tailing on spartina grass flats, and the following morning casting surface plugs over sea grass meadows.

The evening tide came on and redfish were there just as we expected them to be. It was beautiful. Gorgeous sunset. Tails waving. Everything seemed to be in place. Unfortunately, he did not catch a fish. He had couple of chances and missed strikes. But it was not meant to be.

We consoled ourselves over steaks and potatoes I made for us. The next morning, we started dark and early and were casting over the grass flats as the sun was coming up. We caught speckled trout almost every cast for the first hour and proceeded to find singles and doubles of redfish over the flats the rest of the day. Nothing too big, but pretty steady action. Not outlandish. You wouldn’t say the fish were jumping over the top of each other to get in the boat by any means.

When we were done, he said to me, “That’s the best two days of fishing that I’ve ever had.”

I asked what he meant by that. He told me, “It was the company, the surroundings, and the total experience that made it for me.”

Jule McDowell was his name, and after years of us subsequently fishing together, he recently succumbed to cancer. I think about that day often.

Coach John Wooden, legendary basketball coach of the University of California, Los Angeles Bruins, was known for saying, “Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.”

I have found this to be especially true when talking about fishing, in the sense that what we bring to the endeavor often flavors it and colors our perceptions. Those guys from Arlington had a once-in-a-lifetime experience that most people can only dream about, but because they had their expectations set so high, they could not enjoy themselves.

My friend Jule, on the other hand, just enjoyed being out there, and because of that he had a good time. And yes, he caught some fish, but to him it was about more than simply catching. He enjoyed the whole experience and everything about the day: the ecology, the weed beds, the wildlife – all of it. He took it all in and enjoyed it all for what it was, and he was a happier person because of it.

I miss him today.

Fish like grass. Not to eat. They’re not cows. But they do find things to eat around the grass.

All the types of creatures that predatory fish like to munch on will be found around grass. The key is to know what kind you are looking at, what kind of fish will be found around it, how they use it, what they are eating, and when they’ll be doing it.

Let’s start inshore and work our way out.

The first type of grass we’ll see in a day is spartina. Pronounce it “spart-eye-na.” It’s a species of cordgrass and it’s all around the inshore marshy areas. You’ll see it growing around marinas, along the roadside, and basically anywhere the water meets the land. Biologists know that it stabilizes shorelines from erosion and creates habitats for millions of small fish and crustaceans. This last part is what is important to us.

Find a creek that meanders back into the marsh. The bottom inside the creek channel will be very mushy. On both sides of that creek will be tall stands of grass that are usually green on top grading to brown or beige at the base. Behind the tall stands will be flats with shorter grass growing on them. All of that is spartina. At low tide, take a look at the areas of short grass growing behind the channel. There’ll be millions of fiddler crabs there. Look around you in the channel. Small fish will be flipping around almost everywhere. Most of these will be mullet. But there will also be the young of spots and other species. Then you add shrimp to this mixture, and you have a veritable living bouillabaisse.

Cold-weather months will see speckled trout in the spartina creeks as they move in from the open water. They will feast on anything they can find. Some days in December and January, large schools of trout or reds will be in the creek that you drive past every day. You can catch them on slow-moving lures such as suspending plugs and soft plastics on lightweight jigs. If the water is deeper or there is more current, use heavier-weighted lures.

As the water gets warmer, expect red drum to be in the same places you caught the trout when it was cold. Popping corks with a plastic shrimp suspended under them will get yanked under on a regular basis when fished with a pop-pause-pop-pause cadence.

As we move out of the marshes and into the sounds we find the seagrass flats. These areas, referred to as “meadows” by the people who study them, grow in areas of higher salinity, clearer water and lower turbulence. Once again you will find an entire variety of aquatic life in these vast ecosystems. Some of these flats extend for miles. Every inch is covered with some life form or another. Crabs and shrimp are present everywhere. Pinfish and small croaker as well. All varieties of small bait fish species from mullet to silversides and bay anchovies will use the grass flats.

When fishing some of my favorite seagrass flats in the summer, I have caught red drum, speckled trout, bluefish, ladyfish, blacktip sharks, pompano, houndfish, and I am pretty sure a bull shark stole my lure off my line one time.

I like to use lures like topwater plugs, unweighted soft plastic jerk baits, shallow-running plugs, and even gold spoons. Keep an eye out, wear polarized sunglasses and a long-bill cap. You never know what you will see because the water is quite a bit clearer than you find in the spartina marshes. You’ll need a shallow-draft skiff to even get to some of these spots.

Even then, if the tide drops while you’re out there, you might have trouble getting out when you want. You can wade, just make sure to shuffle your feet due to the preponderance of small stingrays, which, coincidentally, can attract very large sharks. Oftentimes, you can fish in the water that’s just a few feet deep off the edges. Look for broken bottom with mixed shells and small grass patches if you can’t get really close in. You never know what you’ll find!

The final type of grass we consider isn’t really grass at all, rather it’s a species of algae. Sargassum weed grows in the open ocean, totally unattached to the ground at all. It floats free in the currents. Sometimes it creates huge mats and often you will see it stretching for miles along a current edge.

Many open-water species will use the patches as temporary refuge but there are also many critters that call the sargassum patches their permanent home — odd little things like sargassum fish, porcupine fish, file fish and others. They are totally unique and there aren’t a lot of other things similar to them. Eels also spawn in the sargassum patches before they go back to freshwaters. Sea turtles feed amongst it, there are various shrimp and crabs.

What this means is that in the middle of the ocean, when you may not be seeing much life around, you find the floating weed patches and you have found plenty to look at and fish to catch.

The most popular species to target here is the mahi-mahi, or dolphinfish. Simply stick a frozen cigar minnow on a jig head using the rigs sold in almost all our coastal tackle shops. This simple setup will produce.

If you have a center-console boat of around 25 feet or so, you can get out there many days during the summer. Check the weather reports, but you’ll probably still get bumped around a bit on the ride home.

Mixed in the with the mahi-mahi, you might all of a sudden hook up with something that tries to eliminate all the line off your reel. That’ll be a wahoo or tuna. Hope you remembered to bring a gaff. The same trolling rigs you use for king mackerel will suffice for this fishing most of the time. If you run into a marlin, then I can’t help you. There are some big ones out there.

Take care of the grass. It will take care of you. It provides homes for millions of small and large marine creatures and shows us obvious spots to start fishing for whichever species we prefer. But it’s also a sign of the quality of our waterways. If they start to disappear, it’s time to start asking some hard questions.

When writer Thomas Mcguane noted, “If the trout are lost, smash the state,” he could easily have included seagrasses. North Carolina waters from Virginia to South Carolina are blessed with a large variety of these ecosystems. We need to take care of them.