With this week’s award of a $450 million contract to a nationwide construction company, work can now begin on replacing the 65-year-old, swing-span bridge that crosses the Alligator River on U.S. Highway 64.

The concrete and steel span between Tyrrell and Dare counties is well beyond its intended lifespan, which is typically 50 years for bridges, tops, in terms of comforting federal transportation engineers. Coastal bridges in salt environments are often subject to some of the harshest conditions.

Federal officials set a goal nearly two decades ago for new bridges to be built to standards such that they last a century.

On Wednesday, the North Carolina Board of Transportation approved the contract with Skanska USA, which has an office in Durham, to replace the Lindsay C. Warren Bridge with a modern, two-lane fixed-span bridge.

Workers are expected to begin driving bridge pilings in the next several weeks, weather permitting, and begin other activities such as clearing, at the site of the new bridge just north of the existing structure.

“Under terms of the contract, the new bridge will open to traffic in the fall of 2029, with demolition of the current bridge to begin in the spring of 2030,” Department of Transportation officials said Wednesday.

The existing bridge was completed in 1960 and is the main route to access the Outer Banks from the west, and a critical hurricane evacuation route. The aging swing span is maintained regularly but is prone to occasional mechanical failures that force motorists onto a 99-mile detour.

“The new bridge will also improve river traffic, as more than 4,000 boats pass through the swing span each year,” officials said.

Some of the funding is through a $110 million grant from the Federal Highway Administration under the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law passed in 2021.

The North Carolina Department of Transportation announced Tuesday that its contractor had completed a test pile project in the Alligator River between Tyrrell and Dare counties earlier this month, work that will inform the design of a planned new bridge.

Eleven large concrete test piles were driven into the riverbed at various depths, officials said. The posts, which support the bridge structure, will help engineers learn about soil layers and depths and soil consistency in the riverbed as they design a replacement for the 64-year-old Lindsay C. Warren Bridge that is part of U.S. Highway 64.

“The soil samples and field data we collected during the test pile project will help us make revisions that determine the final construction design of the bridge structure,” said N.C. Department of Transportation Resident Engineer Pablo Hernandez.

Actual bridge construction is slated to begin later this year or early 2025.

New York-based Skanska USA was the contractor for the test pile project, which began in the spring.

NCDOT had announced in April that as many as 18 test piles would be driven.

Officials said in the latest announcement that the test piles would be removed once the bridge construction project is underway.

The new Alligator River bridge is to replace the existing swing-span bridge with a two-lane, fixed-span, high-rise bridge on a new location just north of the current bridge. The new bridge will include two 12-foot travel lanes with 8-foot shoulders.

COLUMBIA – The North Carolina Department of Transportation said Thursday that its contractors will soon begin driving concrete test piles into the bed of the Alligator River in what officials called an important step in the project to replace the U.S. Highway 64 bridge over the river between Tyrrell and Dare counties.

NCDOT announced that as many as 18 test piles would be driven, with New York-based Skanska USA overseeing the test pile project. Officials described the piles as heavy posts driven into the ground as a foundation for a structure such as a bridge.

The work is to guide design and construction engineers in deciding the best means and methods of constructing the replacement bridge and will help them complete environmental reviews and construction plans.

The Lindsay C. Warren Bridge is a 64-year-old, swing-span bridge. NCDOT said its replacement will be a modern two-lane, fixed-span, high-rise bridge sited just north of the current bridge. The new bridge will include two, 12-foot travel lanes with 8-foot breakdown lanes.

Construction on the new bridge is expected to begin in late 2024 or early 2025.

The Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge is readying for its first open-air tram tour of the year.

Reservations are required for the tour scheduled to take place 9-11 a.m. Saturday, March 2.

To reserve one of the 25 seats on the tram, call 252-216-9464. Cost is $10 for 13. Those 12 and under ride free with a paying adult.

The refuge was established in 1984 to protect the rare pocosin wetlands and their associated wildlife. It is home to hundreds of birds and other wildlife including turtles, great blue herons, alligators, black bears, bobcats, red wolves, kingfishers, river otters and more.

During the tour, the guide will share the history of the refuge and identify plants and wildlife as they are spotted. Organizers advise that there is there is no guarantee there will be visible wildlife during the tour.

Meet at Creef Cut Wildlife Trail parking lot, about 6 miles west of Manns Harbor and bring binoculars, a camera, drinking water and insect repellent, organizers said.

COLUMBIA – The long-planned replacement of the 60-year-old, two-lane, swing-span bridge that is the only direct link between Raleigh and the Outer Banks will come years sooner thanks to a recently announced $110 million federal infrastructure grant.

Gov. Roy Cooper, Federal Highway Administrator Shailen Bhatt and North Carolina Department of Transportation Secretary Eric Boyette joined Tyrell and Dare County officials Thursday at the west side of the Alligator River bridge on U.S. Highway 64 in Columbia to celebrate the grant from the U.S. Department of Transportation Mega Program.

The competitive grant program, also known as the National Infrastructure Project Assistance program, provides money for “large, complex projects that are difficult to fund by other means and likely to generate national or regional economic, mobility, or safety benefits,” according to the program website. The North Carolina award also includes broadband funding.

The estimated $294 million project to replace the Lindsay C. Warren Bridge, which opened to traffic in February 1962, includes a new structure just north of the existing one and connect Tyrell County segment of U.S. 64 to Old Ferry Road in Dare County. Construction is now expected to begin as soon as winter 2024.

“It’s my understanding that this bridge has been accelerated by at least a decade,” Bhatt said during the press gathering, adding that, “Because while everybody’s trying to do their best, there wasn’t a lot of money sitting around.”

Bhatt said the project is one of the first Mega grants that USDOT had awarded and one of only nine awarded nationwide. Officials announced the award in January.

Boyette, when asked after his public remarks whether the project was now fully funded, said the state’s existing commitment was a significant reason why North Carolina was awarded the grant.

“We can show the gap in our funding. This is what we’ll need to complete it. That was one of the pluses for us,” he said.

The bridge is one of two highway corridors to the Outer Banks — the other being the Wright Memorial Bridge on U.S. 158 — but its importance is greater than a way for tourists to get to the shore. Tyrell County is one of the state’s most economically distressed, and a significant number of its 3,200 residents have jobs on the Outer Banks, a point Tyrell County Manager David Clegg underscored.

“It creates today easily 500 jobs between the two counties,” Clegg said.

The bridge’s swinging center span that opens 90 degrees for boat traffic sometimes fails to close and is one of the most apparent problems with the bridge. However, a 2021 NCDOT evaluation classified the bridge as structurally deficient with a sufficiency rating of 31.71 out of a possible 100.

“The existing bridge requires costly, heavy maintenance on a regular basis,” according to the report.

“It’s very clear the 60-year-old swing-span behind me is not supporting the community,” said Transportation Secretary Boyette during his remarks.

The replacement project, listed as HB-0001 by NCDOT, includes numerous improvements over the existing bridge. Perhaps most importantly, the fixed center span will provide a 65-foot clearance for boat traffic. The new two-lane bridge will include 8-foot-wide shoulders, enough for a bike lane. The existing bridge has 1-foot-wide shoulders.

Along with the planned improvements to the transportation corridor between Raleigh and the Outer Banks, Cooper highlighted another infrastructure improvement that is also funded in the federal grant.

“Part of what’s going to happen with this bridge is going to be high-speed internet all the way from Rocky Mount to Nags Head,” Cooper said.

Boyette also noted that the grant was a way to remember longtime Division 1 Engineer Sterling Baker, who died of cancer in April 2022.

“We named this grant application after Sterling, the STERLING grant — Strengthening Transportation Evacuation Resilience Lifeline and Improving our Network’s Gateway,” Boyette said.

A proposed $268 million project to replace the 60-year-old Alligator River Bridge on U.S. 64 between Tyrrell and Dare counties has been selected to receive a $110 million federal grant.

The state announced Tuesday its selection for the Multimodal Project Discretionary Grant from the U.S. Department of Transportation.

“This bridge is a lifeline for the people of North Carolina both to and from the Barrier Islands. It is one of the few options residents and visitors have for accessing our far eastern counties and this bridge replacement will serve our state for decades to come,” said Gov. Roy Cooper in a statement. “This is a great example of how President Biden’s Bipartisan Infrastructure Law helps move along large projects that otherwise would be difficult to fund through traditional means.”

The current Lindsay B. Warren bridge completed in 1962 is a two-lane swing-span bridge. The proposed replacement project would build a new two-lane, fixed-span bridge just to the north of the old one, allowing both marine and vehicle traffic to pass unimpeded.

The North Carolina Department of Transportation is planning for construction to begin no later than 2025, according to the state.

More than 4,000 boats pass through the area every year, forcing vehicle traffic to stop while the swing-span opens and closes, according to the state. Though maintained, the structure is aging and experiences occasional technical issues, which can lead to travelers needing to take a 99-mile detour.

“This is a big boost for eastern North Carolina,” said Win Bridgers, division one rngineer for the state Department of Transportation. “A new fixed-span bridge over the Alligator River would aid everything from economic development to hurricane evacuation.”

The bridge replacement is part of the proposed plan to widen a 27.3-mile segment of U.S. 64 from Columbia in Tyrrell County to U.S. 264 near Manns Harbor in Dare County, according to NCDOT. The bridge has been deemed structurally deficient, which means the bridge is still safe but has a posted weight limit for vehicles.

NCDOT officials, who applied for the federal grant in May, named the application STERLING, which stands for Strengthening Transportation Evacuation Resilient Lifeline by Improving the Network’s Grid, in honor of former Division 1 Engineer Sterling Baker, who passed away in April.

“Sterling dedicated his life to NCDOT and the northeastern North Carolina community. He would be proud the grant project for this bridge would highlight his work ingenuity and character he showed to get the job done for citizens,” said Baker’s wife, Elizabeth Mumm Baker. “It is really special, and his family will be honored that he will forever be part of eastern North Carolina. Thank you for this tribute honoring his legacy.”

Reprinted from The Outer Banks Voice

Local officials in Dare and Tyrrell counties are appealing to officials in Raleigh and Washington, D.C., in an effort to prioritize the replacement of the 60-year-old Lindsey C. Warren Bridge, better known as the Alligator River Bridge.

The 2.8-mile bridge across the Alligator River has closed several times in recent years to undergo repairs.

“The repeated and continuing failures of the span since it was ‘fixed’ have gone on and on – it is time to fix the problem and to fix it with a bridge replacement,” said Commissioner Wally Overman during the Nov. 2 Dare County Commissioners meeting. The bridge underwent a major renovation several years ago as part of a $16.7 million effort to extend the span’s life.

Dare County Commissioners have passed several resolutions over the years urging action to replace the bridge, most recently in January when the board asked that the North Carolina Department of Transportation, or NCDOT, include the project in its 2023-2032 State Transportation Improvement Plan.

NCDOT recognizes the importance of the bridge replacement, said the department’s Division 1 Communications Officer Tim Hass, noting that a consultant earlier this year was tasked with conducting an environmental review of the replacement project. That review process, however, has been shelved due to COVID-19 budget constraints. Once the nine- to 12-month review is complete, $150 million in funding would still have to be identified for the project.

Hass said that transportation officials are making efforts to move the project forward. “We’ve heard from the folks in Tyrrell County and Dare County and know it is a priority,” he said.  “It’s just a matter of how high a priority and identifying funding.”

For his part, Overman has contacted State Rep. Bob Steinburg, R-Chowan,  U.S. Rep. Greg Murphy and Rep. Bobby Hanig, R-Currituck, seeking their support.

“We need to keep the hammer down on this now until we get some sort of positive resolution,” he asserted. “It is something that we really need to press on and keep pressure on DOT to get this done however they get the funding — whether it’s federal, state, whatever. We really don’t care. It just needs to be fixed.”

Columbia’s Board of Aldermen is also sending former resolutions and letters to state representatives asking for their support, according to Town Manager Rhett White.

“The bridge is not getting any younger, newer or stronger,” he said. “In fact, the bridge is getting more use and more abuse every month of the year that goes by and every year that goes by.”

Adding that between 200 and 400 Tyrrell County residents travel to Dare County regularly for work, White said, “I think that while Dare County is concerned about hurricane evacuation, we’re concerned with getting our people to and from work.”

Overman, who along with Dare County Planning Director Donna Creef are members of the Albemarle Rural Planning Organization, or ARPO, noted that the span’s replacement has received the general support of that organization, particularly among representatives from Tyrrell, Hyde and Currituck counties.

“The functionality of that bridge is absolutely paramount when we’re talking about ensuring the safety of our residents and visitors,” Overman said.

Both Overman and White voiced frustration over the difficulty transportation improvement projects in rural areas have in competing with other projects in more urban areas of the state.

“It just contributes to the delay in a new or replacement bridge,” Overman said, adding that is why he and other officials are seeking the help of state representatives. “We want to get this thing front and center, and get it moving.”

White noted that the need for replacement has been on the table for two decades. The closures due to repairs and renovations, he added, “turns everything on its head. You’re looking at about a 90-mile detour to get to the Outer Banks and we’ve got anywhere from two to four hundred people (from Tyrrell County) a day, depending on the season, who drive to the Outer Banks for work.”

When the bridge was built, he observed, tractor trailers going from Columbia to the Outer Banks were few and far between, but now it is “almost a steady stream…We just feel like if they don’t (replace the bridge) we’re going to have a major problem with this bridge that’s going to affect a lot of people’s lives.”

White said that he expects that the Southern Albemarle Association will lend its support to the replacement project when it meets in January and that proponents will seek the official support of the ARPO at its next quarterly meeting.

This story is provided courtesy of the Outer Banks Voice, a digital newspaper covering the Outer Banks. Coastal Review Online is partnering with the Voice to provide readers with more environmental and lifestyle stories of interest about our coast.

EAST LAKE—The signs are written on the trees.

Dead trees.

Groups of what scientists call “ghost forests” bear witness to climate change, a reality that can be observed by driving U.S. 64 or U.S. 264 through the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge.

Stark light trunks and barren branches sharply contrast with remaining green trees. The dead trees line ditches and canals throughout the refuge, pointing to a swiftly changing landscape.

“It’s dramatic,” said Scott Lanier, manager of the Alligator River and Pea Island wildlife refuges.

Lanier was one of three original Alligator River personnel when the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service began staffing the refuge in 1985 following its acquisition in 1984. Lanier stayed at the Alligator River and Pea Island refuges until 1991, then returned in 2006. He’s noticed a loss of refuge land from climate change.

“More land has become inundated,” Lanier said. Certain places where he once was able to walk are now underwater. The Alligator River refuge “is at a low elevation to begin with, so it displays the effects of sea level rise and saltwater intrusion pretty readily.”

As global warming has led to sea level rise, saltwater has increasingly come farther into the refuge and stayed longer than in the past.

The habitat changes are the most noticeable, Lanier said. Some marshy places have become open water; areas that were previously “shrub/scrub habitat” are transitioning to marsh; and some forests adjacent to water bodies have started turning into shrub/scrub habitat as trees die from prolonged exposure to saltwater.

“You get these wholesale changes, and it’s happening at a rapid pace,” Lanier said. “You can notice those differences in 30 years.”

The pond pines found in the refuge can tolerate wetter ground than the more familiar loblolly pines, but even pond pines can’t handle too much saltwater, he said. Older pond pines have died off along with members of other tree species, contributing to the ghost forests.

Saltwater intrusion, drier land and forest fires

The Alligator River refuge covers about 160,000 acres on the Albemarle-Pamlico Peninsula in mainland Dare and Hyde counties. The refuge is bordered by the Albemarle Sound to the north, the Croatan Sound to the east and the Pamlico Sound to the south. The Alligator River — for which the refuge is named — cuts deeply into the western part of the land.

Emily Bernhardt, a Duke University professor, is leading a team of students who are studying the exact amount of land loss that sea level rise is causing and the habitat changes saltwater intrusion has prompted, Lanier said.

Bernhardt and two scientists from North Carolina State University spoke in a 10-minute video titled, “The Seeds of Ghost Forests,” which was published in May at sciencefriday.com.

Bernhardt explained that commercial farmers wanted to keep the land dry enough to grow corn, soybeans and other crops, so from the 1960s through the ’80s, they drained large swaths of forested wetlands with man-made canals and ditches. “Even though they were made to drain water off, they can do opposite,” she stated. “You can have storms that can push saltwater deep into the interior.”

Climate change causes more extreme weather patterns, such as stronger storms and more intense droughts. When droughts occur, the sounds get saltier, “in part because they’re evaporating and in part because they’re not getting fresh water off the landscape,” Bernhardt said in the video. This, like sea level rise, intensifies saltwater intrusion.

“The thing that’s actually happening is that salt is getting into a landscape and killing individual organisms, be they trees or microbes — so it’s actually happening at a very granular scale,” she said.

“The thing that’s actually happening is that salt is getting into a landscape and killing individual organisms, be they trees or microbes—so it’s actually happening at a very granular scale.”

Emily Bernhardt, Duke University

Drier land also contributes to the potential for raging forest fires.

These are different than the prescribed burning the Fish and Wildlife Service does about once a year on the Alligator River and Pea Island refuges. “Fire is a part of the life history of these pocosin forests,” Lanier said, and the habitats in the refuge need fires at different intervals.

But when people drain the forests, “fires can be catastrophic then.”

This has been seen already.

In 2011, the Pains Bay wildfire burned more than 45,000 acres, partly on southeastern refuge land and partly on the East Coast’s most active bombing range, which is located in the middle of the refuge, Lanier said. The fire shut down all operations on the bombing range, which the U.S. Air Force owns and the U.S. Navy also uses.

“It actually took Hurricane Irene to finally put it out,” Lanier recalled. “We ran into a period of drought and the peat soils were drained, water tables were low … we had a lightning strike and away (the fire) went.”

Contrast that with a fire prior to 2011, when a lightning strike set off a blaze in the refuge that burned out naturally after consuming 300 acres at most, Lanier said. “It behaved the way a pocosin fire should behave in a natural area.”

That’s because it was in the refuge’s most natural area, meaning it wasn’t ever ditched or drained, he said, noting the importance of restoring the refuge’s hydrology.

Pocosin is an Algonquin word for “swamp on a hill,” Lanier said. The pocosin forests have deep peat deposits — soils made of thick, decomposed plant matter built up over thousands of years that store huge amounts of carbon.

“Carbon contributes to global warming,” Debbie Crane, communications director for The Nature Conservancy, said in an email. “Peat soil is about 50 percent carbon.”

When the soil is dry, it emits carbon into the atmosphere, she explained. Rewetting the soil to restore the natural water patterns not only prevents that, but also prevents large-scale, damaging wildfires, which emit even more carbon.

A recent fire in the refuge, sparked by a lightning strike on July 3, sent a thick smoke cloud over much of Dare County and even the southern end of Currituck County.

The fire burned 160 acres until it was officially put out on July 10, according to Lanier. “It is normal for the refuge to experience natural-caused fires such as this when we go through dry periods,” he said. “All of the weather indices that we monitor were pointing to a high probability of a fire.”

Planning ahead

The Nature Conservancy was instrumental in helping the Fish and Wildlife Service acquire the refuge initially and remains a consistent partner.

“We know as the sea continues rising, that place out there is not only going to change, but we can potentially lose a good part of it.”

Scott Lanier, Manager, Alligator River and Pea Island National Wildlife Refuges.

The service, The Nature Conservancy and other conservationists are working with state agencies and any individuals interested in preserving wildlife to acquire lands located immediately west, and then farther west of the current refuge.

“We know as the sea continues rising, that place out there is not only going to change, but we can potentially lose a good part of it,” Lanier said. “We want to create corridors to link together, so as the sea rises, wildlife has a place to go.”

The refuge is home to a vast array of animals, including American alligators, neotropical migrant bird species, the endangered red-cockaded woodpeckers and red wolves, “one of the most endangered mammals in the world,” Lanier noted.

It’s also home to one of the largest American black bear populations in the eastern U.S. “We probably have one bear per about 4 square miles,” Lanier said. Four square miles is 2,560 acres, so that’s more than 60 bears.

In the meantime, The Nature Conservancy helped design and install six water control structures and four ditch plugs in recent years. The water control structures allow water to drain off the refuge at a more natural rate and also prevent saltwater intrusion from taking place on “wind tides,” when a strong, steady wind pushes the sound up into the refuge. “When you have a hurricane, all bets are off,” Lanier noted.

Also, to help minimize the effects of wind tides and erosion caused from higher sound water levels, The Nature Conservancy built 1,400 feet of oyster reef on the refuge around Point Peter Road. That project began in 2010 and wrapped up earlier this year, Crane said.

The conservancy and refuge also partnered to help restore hydrology in the 40,000-acre bombing range. The Air Force uses the range for target practice, and although the bombs pilots drop are inert, “because of the kinetic energy when dropping them, it can still cause fires,” Lanier said.

He and other refuge employees hope that by experiencing the beauty of the refuge, people will realize its importance and want to help preserve it. Canoe tours are offered several days a week during the summer at a cost.

Dani Canning, a refuge summer intern, led a tour on July 18. She gave a brief overview of the refuge’s wildlife and explained how the refuge was typically the northernmost range for alligators, but with warming temperatures, they’ve recently been seen closer to the Virginia line.

Jasmine Paesmans participated in the tour with her husband Patrick Randour and their three daughters. They’re from Belgium, so she enjoyed the different scenery and was excited to spot a small green snake in the water while paddling.

“We don’t have this kind of park in Belgium; it’s too small,” Paesmans said. Their family and friends, also from Belgium, planned to hike a trail in the refuge immediately after the canoe tour.

“These pocosin wetlands offer incredible ecosystem services,” Lanier said. “They help with being a buffer with large storms like hurricanes, serve as filters for water and preserve water quality.”

EAST LAKE – The Alligator River Bridge in Tyrrell and Dare counties, which has been a vital part of travel to and from the Outer Banks for the last six decades, has recently undergone a major renovation.

The renovations to the 59-year-old bridge were completed last week. The 17-month project came at a cost of $16.7 million, according to an announcement Friday from the state Department of Transportation.

The bridge renovations included a new epoxy deck overlay to prevent water from seeping off the road surface onto the bridge structure underneath,  joint replacements, repairs to the concrete superstructure and mechanical and electrical rehabilitation of the bridge’s swing span.

The bridge on U.S. 64 is a route for Outer Banks travelers and storm evacuations. Officials said the renovations were made to ensure that the bridge is safe and operable until a replacement can be built.

Mornings like this find themselves permanently etched into our memories, teetering on the edge of reality and dreamscape. Though it seemed as if I might drown in humidity, the stillness of the atmosphere was arresting. And the result? Sea and sky were one as heaven and earth joined at the horizon in perfect mirrored reflection. Clouds above, clouds below.

I was plying the shallows around a place called Middle Marsh, a tangle of spartina and oysters and mud and periwinkle snails with a small egret rookery thrown in for good measure. This wetland sits at the mouth of the North River between Beaufort and Harkers Island, and from the air it looks like some sort of cubist painting by Pablo Picasso that has begun to wash away. Strange lines, angles and patterns make up this salt marsh. The whole thing is laced with various tidal creeks and a proper dusting of duck blinds. The tide was high and the place thoroughly flooded thanks to the new moon that day. I was looking for tailing redfish, but what I found was something altogether very different.

Sunning itself in the lime green cordgrass that so dominates these salt marshes, was a dinosaur – otherwise known as an alligator. With my outboard raised high on its hydraulic jack plate, I eased my way in for a closer look. This wasn’t my first Carolina crocodilian. I have spent countless hours kayaking and photographing these ancient creatures along the blackwater recesses of our inner banks and knew they showed up in our estuaries from time to time, even occasionally being spotted on the beach. But this was my first chance encounter with one in the salt. Bottlenose dolphins worked their trade in the channel just beyond this marsh and I had stirred up a green sea turtle with tell-tale sunburst pattern on its shell as I first began to ease across the flats. Now here I was, leaning over the side of my skiff peering into the prehistoric eyes of an alligator where oyster beds and stingrays should be.

This could be considered a chance encounter, a fluke if you will. Up and down the Southeast coast, whenever an alligator shows up on the saltier side of things, we generally assume they were flushed out of rivers by heavy rains or the ebb of king tides. We have a century’s worth of biology to go by, which has told us this is not where alligators are supposed to be.

But we humans are a funny lot, big-brained and all tangled up in the stories we tell ourselves. We try to catalogue and classifying everything under the sun and pass off our understanding of the world to posterity. Wading through this collective knowledge, we scrutinize the past and craft euphemisms like “change is the only constant.” But knowledge and belief are two very different things. And so we become resolute in our assumptions, believing deep down that everything has always been, and always will be, exactly like it is right now.

In the realm of the life sciences, we have come to call this “shifting baseline syndrome.” Sound scary? You should probably be afraid. It’s contagious, life threatening and reached pandemic levels a long time ago.

A hundred years ago, we had the world of American crocodilians neatly organized. Alligators belonged in freshwater swamps, while only the American crocodile could be found in the saltwater – though confined to the Gulf Coast of south Florida. This makes sense. It’s where they were found at the time, albeit after 300 years’ worth of persecution. We also thought they were both just dumb reptiles that were better off exterminated to make way for the new top dog in town.

At that time, nobody knew that alligators could drink from a lens of freshwater that can be found floating atop of saltwater. Nor did we know that both alligators and crocodiles collect sticks on their noses to lure in wading birds who are searching for nesting material – a little behavior we like to call tool use. And it wasn’t until the late 1960s that Robert Paine discovered the concept of keystone species through his work with sea stars on the coast of Washington, right when alligators were being placed on the Endangered Species List.

Today, we talk of concepts like shifting baselines syndrome in regards to our perception of what is and what is not normal. The whole idea was first put forth by the fish biologist Daniel Pauly and was in reference to the state of fisheries. Granddad’s stories of the good old days of fishing were just that: stories, nothing more. Hauls were never that big. Fish, never that numerous. At least that is what we believe – based on our own personal experience. And thus, we fail to grasp what the population of fish once were before our generation’s turn at catching them and especially before commercial fisheries developed.

The world that we are born into is what we accept as reality and assume that on some fundamental level reflects the way things have always been. And so, in Massachusetts for instance, Nantucket natives and the old salts of Cape Cod argue that the presence of 30,000-plus grey seals is unnatural, that great whites shouldn’t be in those waters and the whole ecosystem and that all their fisheries are going to fall apart because of it. Yet, we know from historical records that this is exactly what the place looked like when European fishermen first arrived and could fill a boat with cod by simply dipping baskets into the water – when fishing was at its all-time best. We now know that abundance begets abundance.

What is to say that when science first began to level its gaze at alligators in the early part of the 20^th century, that those biologists themselves weren’t already suffering from shifting baseline syndrome? By that point, Europeans and their descendants had spent about 300 years working on the wholesale destruction of all things predator. Long before such things as wildlife biologists and ecologists ever existed, our civilization had been hard at work remaking the world to its liking.

Brian Silliman, a marine science and conservation professor at the Duke University Marine Lab in Beaufort, argues in a new paper published in the journal Current Biology (download pdf), that this may be exactly what happened. As we enter this new era of conservation success, a time when we are finally beginning to witness real results from such legislation as the Marine Mammal Protection Act and the Endangered Species Act, a lot of those rebounding animals aren’t exactly doing what they are supposed to.

Today, we are watching as alligators become a regular fixture in salt laden estuaries from Texas to North Carolina. Studies are revealing that species like sharks and rays are regularly making up the diets of these reptiles presumed to be strictly freshwater in nature. Seals, once thought to be a denizen of the far north, are showing up with clocklike regularity on the Outer Banks and the subtropical waters of the Crystal Coast. Sea otters in California, a species associated with Pacific kelp forests, are also beginning to populate salt marshes – a habitat they were ever known to occupy. It’s like Nature Gone Wild out there.

Silliman refers to these species as the ghosts of nature’s past. His argument is not that alligators are really a saltwater species, of course. Crocodiles have specialized glands for expelling salt, whereas alligators do not. Instead, he argues that maybe, just maybe, what we are seeing is not accidental at all, but could very well be a matter of species re-inhabiting old haunts that they were driven from long before we started paying attention.

Studies dating back to the late 1970s reveal that gators were readily found in our state’s salt marshes at a time when their population was at its lowest. Down south, around Cape Canaveral, research shows that gators are found in dense numbers across seagrass beds and in mangroves – places that we once assumed to be the exclusive domain of sharks, sea turtles and American crocodiles. Other studies have identified alligators inhabiting full-blown marine ecosystems for up to a week straight before returning to the slightly less-salty waters of estuaries.

But here’s the thing: When it comes to alligators and saltwater, there is a solid correlation with protected habitats. Back in the early 1980s, here in North Carolina, salty gators were three times more common in the protected salt marshes of our national seashores than elsewhere. Alligators living in the Florida Keys do so only in those mangroves and creeks that fall within National Park lands. And all those seagrass beds at Cape Canaveral that alligators are making their living around, have been protected by the Kennedy Space Center. Simply put, it would appear that alligators are only beginning to occupy saltwater environments where people do not. Even my saltwater alligator falls into this category as Middle Marsh is a part of the Rachel Carson Estuarine Reserve.

All this begs a question about North Carolina then. When we find alligators hanging out in Middle Marsh, or on the beaches of Brunswick County, should we continue to assume that it’s all accidental? The official story is that they were probably just flushed down river by heavy rains. But what if that is not the case at all? What if we are beginning to witness the return to old estuarine haunts?

All of this could have very real consequences for the continued success of species that are beginning to make a comeback. If legislation is written to protect habitat for endangered species, then what does it mean when their habitat extends well beyond the boundaries we once presumed they functioned within?

The idea of conservation success is new to us. Since the 19^th century, when Americans first began to wake up to the impact that we had on the ecosystem and neighboring species, the story of doom and gloom has remained the same. More habitat loss. Populations continuing to dwindle. Another species pressed over the edge of oblivion. Though all is not yet right in the world, hard work is beginning to bear fruit. And this is something that nobody is ready for. We don’t even know what success really looks like. Is it 30-50,000 gray seals and a thriving population of great white sharks? Alligators lounging around on National Seashore beaches? This has not been part of the national conversation.

What does it truly mean for a species to be recovered? Is it when a population reaches a magic number pulled out of a geneticist’s hat and fits nicely into the sterility of legislation? Or is it when a species has re-occupied its home range and has resumed the ecological role it once played there? What if we don’t even know what that home range really was? And, given the fact that each and every one of us alive today suffer the delusional fevers of shifting baseline syndrome, should our assumption of what “recovery” looks like automatically trigger a hunting season?

So many questions yet to be answered.

I never did catch any fish. So taken by my discovery of that alligator laying up in the salt marsh, I lost track of time. As anyone with much experience in tidal creeks knows, you are always working on borrowed time in there. Everything is planned according the ebb and flow of tides – when you can enter, when you should leave. As both time and tide slipped by under the hull of my boat, I found myself overtaken with that sickening feeling that occurs when you suddenly and unexpectedly feel the sharp jolt of solid ground beneath your boat. Hopping into what water that was left, I grabbed my bow line and took my boat for a walk on its leash back to deeper water. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched 6 feet of alligator slip out into the gin-clear waters of the shallow channel and disappear into an estuary where it is probably supposed to be, but we are not yet ready to admit.

You can explore the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge by launching a canoe or kayak into Mill Tail Creek, above, or hiking along Sandy Ridge Trail. Photos: Kip Tabb

EAST LAKE — On the western side of the sounds that separate mainland North Carolina from the Outer Banks lies the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge, a vast wilderness of swamp, pocosin and forest that nurtures an environment of extraordinary diversity.

There are a number of roads that lead into the refuge, most of them interconnecting. Flat, fairly straight and dusty, Buffalo City Road is much like the others except that it dead ends at a beautiful kayak and canoe launch on Mill Tail Creek. To the left of the turnaround there’s a smooth, easy to hike trail heading south, a trail that looks as though it may at one time have been a railroad bed to take the lumber that was harvested from the forest.

There was once a small city here — Buffalo City — a logging town from the 1870s to the 1920s and when the logging gave out, the residents turned to moonshining during Prohibition.

There is nothing left of the town; the surrounding swamp, pocosin and forest have reclaimed the land and Buffalo City is now the stuff of legend.

Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge is almost 154,000 acres and is one of the largest wildlife refuges on the East Coast. Now in its 30th year, it has become an important part of efforts to retain the diversity of a pocosin environment.

Alligator River became a national wildlife refuge almost by accident.

In the 1970s and ‘80s, the land that it occupies was being developed for corporate farming by Prulean Farms, a joint effort among a number of large corporations. A drop in crop prices, loss of land value during the 1980 recession and public opposition to a proposal to ditch thousands of acres of wetlands for farming created a scenario where the company felt it would be better to donate the land than to own it.

Bonnie Strawser, the visitor services manager, has been with the refuge since it was founded and she recalls the surprise when the land was donated to the wildlife refuge system. “We knew this chunk of land was being donated to conservation,” she said. “They were looking at either ownership by the state or management by the state.”

Breeding pairs of endangered red wolves were introduced into the refuge in 1987. There are now about 100. Photo: U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service If You Go The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service administers the Alligator River refuge jointly with the Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge on the Outer Banks. The Visitor Center is on old U.S. 64 about two miles past downtown Manteo on the opposite side of the road from the Lost Colony and Fort Raleigh. The address is 100 Conservation Way. The refuge itself is on the mainland in Dare County. Click here for directions. To strike out on your own, the refuge offers a number of hiking, driving and paddling trails that will give you a chance to the see the vast diversity of animals.  Guided canoe tours and a tram rides will also be offered in the fall. Look here for details. Rangers will also take you out in the refuge at dusk to listen for howling red wolves. Three such excursions are planned in the fall, including a “full moon howl” on Nov. 15. All are free and no registration is required. Many events for the annual Wings Over Water Wildlife Festival, Oct. 21-25, are scheduled in the refuge.

When the donation was discussed with the IRS, however, a different strategy became necessary. “Then the ruling came back that since they had approved the prior donation, that since it had come out of the federal coffers, it has to go into the federal coffers,” she said. “With just a few weeks’ notice we found out we were getting this refuge.”

At the time it was considered a wasteland. “Pocosin wetlands were not something anyone had dealt with,” Strawser recalled. “We (wildlife refuge managers) were used to fresh water marshes. Saltwater marshes. Those kind of marshes.”

Refuge biologist Dennis Stewart has been at the Alligator River since 1994, but did field work on the land for environmental studies before coming to the refuge. The research he did at the time confirmed the value of the refuge. “Early on people didn’t understand the significance of those habitat types for migratory birds,” he said. “But as we were collecting our data we were learning more and more about how valuable it is.”

The value of the refuge became quickly apparent to wildlife managers. One of the largest protected environments along the East Coast, it was the ideal location for an audacious experiment.

The red wolf had been officially declared extinct in the wild, but a captive breeding program kept the species alive and genetically viable. “Here locally we didn’t know about the red wolf at all,” Strawser said. “We didn’t know that the endangered species biologists had pie eyes over this huge piece of landscape that was so rare in the East.”

In 1987 breeding pairs of red wolves were brought to Alligator River. “The service took the bold step of saying as an agency, ‘This Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge is within the historic range of this highly endangered species. This place might be the place to establish an experimental population to see if we can reintroduce a population here,’” refuge manager Mike Bryant said.

“We still have red wolves. So that’s a success,” he added.

Most of the wolves introduced into Alligator River continue to call it home. Estimates put the population at around 100, a population that seems larger — and closer — during the wolf howlings held throughout the year.

Red wolves are just one of a large number of species that roam Alligator River. “We have a very robust bear population out there,” Bryant said.

There is also a thriving population of alligators. “One question I get asked probably more commonly than any other question is, ‘Do you really have alligators there?’” Stewart said. “And the answer is ‘Yes, we have alligators.’ We are at the northern range of the alligators here.”

There have been some surprises as biologists have inventoried the refuge. “An interesting species is the red cockaded woodpecker,” Stewart said. Before the discovery of the woodpecker in Alligator River, it was thought they lived only in longleaf pine forests. “Somehow the red cockaded woodpecker can survive in the pond pine pocosin, which is completely different than the longleaf pine habitat.”

In addition to wildlife management, Alligator River is also in the forefront of efforts to study the effects of sea-level rise. Because of its history, geography and location, the refuge is one the first locations to feel the effects of rising seas.

When the land was being cleared for farming, ditches and canals were dug to drain the fields. Otherwise the high water table would make it impossible to grow crops. The Nature Conservancy saw an opportunity to develop an experimental model to see if the effects of sea-level rise can be mitigated.

Volunteers plant trees in the refuge in a sea-level rise experiment. Photo: John Warner, the Nature Conservancy

“We’ve got this big chunk of land that’s so low in the landscape as the sea rises we’re losing land,” Bryant explained. “We’re also getting a big change in the plant community from forest to marsh at a very rapid rate. This rate of change is not normal.”

“When you look at maybe 90 or 95 percent of the refuge, it’s under two-feet elevation,” Stewart said. “So a sea-level rise of a half inch can wet out a large area. Wherever you have a canal, you get this wedge of change where the salt water encroaches.”

Working with the Nature Conservancy, Stewart has devised a control system that may give wildlife managers a tool to slow the effects of saltwater encroachment. “I refer to it as a climate adaptation project that we have been working on jointly with the Nature Conservancy,” he said. “We’ve had a multifaceted project to try to return it to a more natural process so it doesn’t go as far inland as it would through the canal system. We have a  . . . water control structure that has check valves on the downstream end. They close when the water is coming upstream so the salt water can’t go upstream.”

The project also includes water control systems to spread fresh water during heavy rains and experiments with native plants that can best handle saltwater intrusion.

The experiments are part of a mandate to preserve a wilderness as something to be treasured. “We’re an agency of people who are really passionate about wildlife,” Bryant said. “And understanding that you don’t have wildlife without habitat if they’re going to be in the wild. The reason for establishing a wildlife refuge is they need a place to live as wild things.”