Guest Commentary

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

North Carolina has a drinking water problem, and we need our legislature to fix it.

This spring, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) announced plans to eliminate nationwide drinking water standards for per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS). These dangerous, long-lived industrial products have well-documented negative health impacts, including low birth weight, thyroid disease and testicular cancer.

Wilmington knows this well, because PFAS are in our drinking water.

The EPA plan is alarming – but not surprising. After all, the current administration has been very transparent about its mission to remove vital health and environmental protections.

What continues to be a surprise is the failure of North Carolina’s General Assembly to step into the gap.

Some legislators seek to claim the mantle of environmental champion; they talk about protecting our families – and yet, industrial chemicals still flow from our taps. Powerful people preach solidarity with communities impacted by PFAS contamination, then fall silent and turn their backs when asked to leverage that power to help them.

All that posturing, and we have yet to see any meaningful action that would remove these toxins from our water. 

For example, state Sen. Michael Lee, senior Appropriations Committee chair and senate majority leader, filed S1043, The Water Safety Act, this spring. If passed, the bill would check two critical boxes in the fight against PFAS contamination: limit how much PFAS is allowed in our drinking water, and regulate how much PFAS pollution industries can discharge into North Carolina’s surface waters. 

In Raleigh, Republicans enjoy what amounts to a veto-proof majority, meaning they get pretty much anything they want – and they do not want PFAS regulation. For the last eight years, every bill to stop industry PFAS pollution or regulate how much PFAS we drink has either failed to pass the Senate or been left to die in committee. So, on its face, Lee’s bill might have seemed brave – heroic, even – given the hostility he and his fellow senate Republicans have expressed toward even the smallest hint of industry regulation. 

But introducing a bill is not the same as fighting for it. And despite his considerable influence and power, Lee stood idly by as his bill stalled: shipped to the Rules Committee four days after it was filed and languishing there ever since. He may have preached protections, but he did not fight – not for the bill, and not for us.

Senator Lee did get new PFAS research funded. Again. But funding yet another study of PFAS is not the same as ensuring your kids don’t have to drink it. And after nine years of funding study after study with no regulation, no help in sight, it starts to feel like one of two things must be true: Either Lee has failed to protect us from PFAS because he’s ineffective, or because he doesn’t want to. 

The current EPA has no interest in protecting people from PFAS contamination. That means our state legislature is our last hope for clean drinking water. As his constituent, I had hoped that Senator Lee was sincere about trying to end this crisis, not just using his bill as political window dressing. But actions speak louder than words, and his inaction tells us everything we need to know.

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

Joan Collins is a regular Coastal Review contributor on topics related to Outer Banks history.

In January 2024, I shared a photograph believed to have been taken some time in the 1930s of a time when the historic Pea Island Station was commanded by a white officer in charge. I had heard my father speak of having served under a couple of white officers when he first reported to the station in February 1940. 

This also was before his uncle, Maxie M. Berry Sr., shown standing on the far left in that image and who began his career there several years earlier, would later assume this role. The story has always fascinated me, as it represents a time when even those most familiar with the inspiring story of the historic station don’t often think about or even realize occurred. Still today, many incorrectly believe that after Keeper Richard Etheridge took command in January 1880, the station remained staffed with an “all-Black” crew for 67 years, until March 1947 when my father, Herbert M. Collins, closed the doors for the very last time. Yet, this stunning photograph reflected otherwise.

Although the photograph I shared then did not include my father, one of the two men seated is Palmer Midgett, a name identified as being an officer in charge in my father’s early U.S. Coast Guard records of his service at Pea Island. These records also reflect the name William Scarborough, the man believed sitting on the right, as being an officer in charge while my father was there. At various times, both signed my father’s performance ratings. So, you can imagine my delight when the photograph published in my earlier January 2024 column first came to my attention. Although my father is not shown, it is an important reminder of his service at Pea Island and the service there of those before him, including his beloved uncle, Maxie M. Berry Sr.

With that background, imagine how delighted I was to learn of these newly discovered images from an unprocessed portion of the “SR.44.47 Conservation and Development Travel Photograph Collection, State Archives of North Carolina.” These photographs were discovered after an inquiry I had made when noticing a recent State Archives Facebook post of a 1938 photograph that is part of this collection. I quickly recognized the photograph as something I had never seen. My excitement was apparent when I telephoned Rebecca Stubbs, audiovisual archivist at the Division of Natural and Cultural Resources and urged her to dig deeper. I wanted to learn what additional photos might be on hand that I had never before seen in my years of researching this topic.

You can also imagine my shock to learn not only one additional photograph existed depicting a time when a white commander was in charge, there were several more – 19 images in total. The white commander shown in several of the images also appears to be William Scarborough, one of the two officers in charge and mentioned in my January 2024 article. Although the photograph in my earlier article was not among these new photographs found, it appears to have been taken on the same day. Palmer Midgett is missing from any of the new photographs found.

I am thrilled to have been granted permission by the DNCR to share this exciting news and this link, Pea Island US Coast Guard Station|Flickr, a digital album created for these 19 images. However, like the photograph published in my January 2024 article, the who, when, and why these newly discovered photographs were taken is not known. The newly found images were discovered in tins and then digitalized to reveal what was enclosed. They are being made available to encourage continued awareness and research about the historic Pea Island station.

Today, while many now know the inspiring story of Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers about their most famous rescue, the harrowing Oct. 11, 1896, rescue of the shipwrecked E.S. Newman’s crew, there are more stories to tell.

The story of why my father reported to white commanders during his early service at Pea Island is something I have been attempting to unravel in recent years, along with the story of “Checkerboard Crews,” racially mixed crews that existed on the Outer Banks during the Pea Island station era.

Look here for more soon on this and the fascinating story of George Pruden, the individual also mentioned in my earlier article. Pruden’s retirement in 1937, which he would later allege was forced, broke the continuous cycle of Black men being placed in command at the Pea Island station after Etheridge’s command.

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:

Many years ago, as a teenager, I was driving through Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune in Onslow County. This was pre-9/11 when civilians could take the shortcut through the base to bypass the heavier Jacksonville traffic.

On one of the lonely roads that travels through the lofty pines and scattered wetlands, I was well away from the main base area. I came upon a traffic jam of cars parked helter-skelter on and off the road. It looked like an apocalypse, or maybe the rapture had just happened.

People were abandoning their vehicles and gathering down the road.

Thinking it was some type of car wreck, I parked and trotted up the road to see if I could help. There, in the middle of the road, was a gargantuan snapping turtle holding the road hostage. With its long neck extended and snarling mouth agape, it defiantly stopped traffic. It could have easily been mistaken for a low coffee table that had fallen out of the bed of a pickup truck.

An early summer downpour had put this snapper on the move, seeking new habitat. Or maybe it was a female looking for a nesting site. Thinking that I could easily save the day and get traffic rolling, I cautiously approached the island-sized turtle. With its belly on the pavement, it slowly rose up on its tippy toes with the poise of a ballerina. Standing tall on its feet, it turned its colossal shell in my direction and established a fighting posture. I was now put on notice.

Sneaking up behind the impressive snapper, I tried to grab the back of the shell with my bare hands. Its thick, meaty tail slapped my arm forward toward the head of the turtle. I released the shell just a whisper before its long neck, tipped with a razor-sharp beak, whipped around, snapping at my fingers. The gathering crowd roared with laughter, cheering on the turtle.

The horde, now standing with their arms crossed, waited for the trainwreck to leave the station. Undaunted, I taunted the beast into biting onto a small tree branch. With the branch now clinched between its jaws, I tried to drag it off the road. The snapper then snapped the branch as if it were a No. 2 pencil.

Throwing me a lifeline, someone from the crowd tossed me a ratty old towel, saying “try this.”

Now, like a matador with a cape, I faced the monster. I dangled one end of the towel above the irritated reptile like a fishing lure. As it lunged after the bait-like rag, it moved closer to the edge of the road. Continuing to tease the snapper, it had soon moved itself onto the grassy shoulder of the road. It then latched onto the towel and was sort of hooked like a fish.

At this point, I was able to drag the turtle off the road and down into a low, wet, marshy area. As I walked up the slope and back onto the road, the crowd greeted me with a round of polite applause. I headed to my car, fingers intact.

Prehistoric beasts

Surfacing amid the Cretaceous Period, these prehistoric-looking beasts have been around for 90 million years. Hearty as can be, they even outlasted the dinosaurs, avoiding all the mass extinction and destruction caused by that devastating asteroid. Like the horseshoe crab, they too are called “living fossils.” Their physical makeup has been expertly designed for their habitats and has changed very little from ancient times.

Known scientifically as “Chelydra serpentine,” the common snapper is found in the shallow, mucky substrate of ponds, lakes, creeks, canals and freshwater wetlands. With their long snake-like neck and tail, the scientific name accurately describes their serpentine features.

These aquatic reptiles are quite content to spend their days saturated in their watery home in search of food. Digging into the mud, with only their eyes and snout exposed, they will patiently wait to ambush prey. With algae often growing on their shell, they blend in, looking like a submerged log.

Like nature’s version of DoorDash, they stealthily wait for a fish, water snake or frog to drift within striking distance. With speed much faster than the blink of an eye, their long neck and head launch as if spring loaded at close to 170 mph. Violently powerful jaws that some have described as “Vice-Grip pliers with razor blades” and their hooked beak secure the prey. They will also eat plenty of aquatic vegetation, algae and scavenge on dead animals.

After heavy rains, I once waded into an ephemeral wetland to rescue a fledgling blue jay. The bird had been feeding on water insects from a branch floating on the surface. Frantically calling and flapping its wings, I thought its foot was caught in the tangle of branches. When I reached down to pull up the jay, I saw that a small 4-inch snapper had chomped down on its foot. As I pulled them both out of the water, the turtle dropped away and the bird took flight in a splash and dash. This is when I learned that snappers like to eat birds as well.

A moment of paralyzing panic

As a young teenager growing up in rural Beaufort County, many scorching August afternoons were spent cooling off in the slow-moving tributaries of the Pamlico River. Tagging along with my older brothers and their friends, we would launch from the bridges that spanned the creeks along dusty country roads. One after another, we exploded into the water, expertly demonstrating the cannonball dive. Someone usually brought along a few pilfered field-fresh watermelons that were plunked into the water to cool down. The sweet red flesh that had been roasting in the hot summer sun would be perfectly chilled for a refreshing post-swim treat. We had to keep tabs on the melons and push them back and forth to make sure they didn’t drift away with the current.

I know that every kid splashing in that tea-colored creek had their own life issues, perhaps even demons, that they were dealing with. But this was a moment of all-is-forgotten, dog-paddling, carefree freedom. An idyllic, Southern, coming-of-age scene. Reflecting on it now, it reminds me of the Jimmy Buffett song, “Life is Just a Tire Swing.” That is until the snapping turtle showed up.

Under the golden glow of the sun low on the horizon, our blissfully innocent summer swim was suddenly interrupted with a blood-curdling cry, “Snapperrrr!” A moment of paralyzing panic seized each swimmer. With just our heads bobbing above water like the watermelons, we stared at each other in silence. And then mayhem ran rampant. Flailing at the water, we all made a desperate dash to the lone makeshift ladder of two-by-fours nailed onto a support piling of the bridge. The ladder was clogged with kids scrambling up and over each other before tumbling off the bridge railing and back onto the blacktop. There I was, frantically dog paddling, the last one still in the water, waiting to go up the ladder. Curling my toes, I could feel the snapper closing in.

Despite their reputation, snappers are quite meek and easygoing while in the water, rarely aggressive toward humans. Out of the water, however, these relics have the looks of a scoundrel itching for a fight. On land, these anciently handsome creatures can become quite defensive if they feel threatened. Feeling vulnerable, because they are unable to fully retract their head, legs and tail into their shell, they become fighters.

Extending their legs, they will jack up their shell high into the air, looking like a sturdy workbench. With this stance making them appear bigger, they are now emboldened enough to gape open their flesh-shredding beak and let out a startling hiss. Come too close and the neck will launch towards you at an inescapable velocity. Those untrained in handling a snapper will soon learn that their neck can reach half the length of their body.

A persistent mother

When I lived in Emerald Isle, my property had two small, marshy, organic wetlands within the surrounding maritime forest. Every spring, during April, the same female snapping turtle emerged from the muck to lay eggs in the backyard. In the loose, sandy soil of an ancient sand dune she would dig a shallow pit and deposit close to 30 eggs.

During my first year on the property, I didn’t see her nesting, but I discovered the aftermath of a marauding raccoon: Leathery eggshell casings littered the ground, ripped open by a hungry bandit devouring the yolks.

The following spring, my wife, Bright, saw the turtle heading to the backyard with the weight of the world on her back. When the turtle had crawled out of the wetland, she carried with her a big hunk of mud complete with dead leaves and vegetation on top of the shell. Looking like a moving atoll, perhaps this is what inspired the Native American legend of Turtle Island.

We watched as she peppered the yard with false nests to frustrate and discourage predators. Then, she finally dug a proper pit and dropped around 20 eggs. Sand was flying everywhere as she meticulously covered the nest. Her head was coated in a sand mask with her eyes barely poking through.

To protect the nest from gray foxes or raccoons, I anchored a four-foot wire mesh over the nesting area. I removed the mesh after a few weeks and once the scent of the nest had evaporated. About 70 days later we found baby snappers searching for the marshy bog.

Each spring, almost to the day, she would return to nest in our backyard.

Even through an adult snapper can occasionally fall victim to an alligator or river otter, these ruggedly armored reptiles have little to fear. Young snapping turtles don’t fare as well. They must face a gauntlet of predators such as raccoons, foxes, herons, minks and even owls. Since they aren’t physically able to defend themselves yet, they deploy a chemical weapon.

When threatened, they will emit a most putrid musk to repel any predator intent on causing harm. I learned this lesson the hard way when I rescued a small snapper off a busy roadway. It thanked me by releasing the gag-inducing musk that would quickly ensure its freedom from my hands.

Folklore, mystique

For some reason, snapping turtles have often appeared during my life. Throughout time, cultures around the world view animals as signs, messages, symbols and even omens. The coyote is known as a trickster and can be viewed as a warning, the eagle is seen as power and the wolf signals loyalty. The snapping turtle carries with it, patience, tenacity, survival, perseverance and integrity.

Along the way, this ancient relic has developed a larger-than-life mystique. For generations their reputation has steeped and marinated in the hypoxic waters where they live. Folklore, myths, legends and outright lies have been dredged up from the muddy wetland bottoms.

One of my favorite myths is that if a snapping turtle bites you, it will not let go until it hears thunder. As a child running barefoot and feral through the swamps, I was often cautioned by the old-timers. With a wag of a finger, they would lecture, “Beware the snapper, its bite will linger until the sound of thunder.” I guess they thought it was an effective strategy to keep kids from wandering into and getting lost in the marshy woodlands. I thought it was a bunch of crap. Yet, this country folklore persists today.

While the origin of this legend can be debated, it appears to have solid standing in Native American storytelling. Two publications, “Kickapoo Tales” (1915) and Ojibwa Texts (1917-19), tell the story of an otter that gets bitten by a snapping turtle. This Algonquian folklore saga has been titled, “When Snapping Turtle Went to War,” or “Snapping Turtle on the Warpath. Told by the Ojibwe storyteller, Glistening Footprint, the story was documented by the Native anthropologist William Jones around 1905.

In the story, otter was sent to kill snapping turtle. But the snapper was on the otter’s plan and hid to ambush otter. Snapping turtle chomped down onto the otter’s private parts. The pain was unbearable and the otter begged to be released.

Recounted in different Native variations of the story, the snapper replied:

• “When the Thunder-god has come back, I will let you go.”
• “Not till the Thunderers come resounding will I release you from my mouth.”
• “I won’t let go till the thunderbirds come.”
• “Verily when the Thunderers cry then will I let thee go.”
• Or, “Not until a great thunderstorm will I release him from my mouth.”

The Thunderers, thunderbirds and Thunder-Gods all represented the storm spirits that had the power to conjure up thunder, lightening and rain. Otter implored snapper to be liberated from its steely grip. Then, the story continues: “Sure enough, the Thunderers began to cry. Then indeed was the Otter let go.”

After jumping off that bridge, I was now the otter, a frantic kid with a snapper bearing down. Was the myth true? I didn’t want to take any chances and get into a delicate predicament like that of the otter. Without a thunderhead in sight, I leapt out of the water and onto a bridge piling as if a frog being chased by a largemouth bass. Free from being mauled by the snapper, I bear-hugged the creosote-soaked pole with my legs and arms. I slowly shimmied my way up the timber for the final push onto the road.

Gripping with all the strength my lean 12-year-old body could muster, I pushed upward. Immediately, pain literally sliced through my fingers. The cap of the piling was covered with thin sheets of tin to prevent water from seeping into the timber. Years in the elements had caused the edges of the tin to curl up creating a sharp blade perfect for gashing open flesh.

Red ran thick down my forearm as I kept my right hand above my heart to slow the bleeding. My left hand was somehow unscathed. The swim party was now over and I needed to go get stitches in my ring and middle fingers. In a borrowed car, my older brother peeled out with barking tires as we raced off to a clinic.

As we crossed the bridge, I glanced over the railing, looking for the predacious snapping turtle in the waters below. The only thing I saw was the watermelons as they made their leisurely escape down the stream. Like the popular song at the time, this was my “Bridge Over Troubled Waters.”

Sitting in the exam room, clothed only in my dripping wet cutoff blue jeans, I could smell the oily creosote that now stained my shorts, arms, legs and chest. Taking pity on me, the kind doctor stitched me up and sent me on my way without charging me a dime.

The beak of a snapper didn’t injure me that day, but the fear of a powerful myth did. Time has absorbed and faded the scars from my fingers, but I can still feel the thickened skin from the cuts. Whenever I rub my fingers over the old wounds, the memory returns as vivid as if it was yesterday. I think of that phantom snapping turtle from time to time and I can’t help but smile knowing that the experience has made my life richer.

Publisher’s Perspective

North Carolina’s coast is one of our state’s greatest assets. It is an economic engine, a source of food and livelihoods, a natural defense against storms, and an irreplaceable part of our heritage.

That is why the budget recently approved by the North Carolina General Assembly deserves recognition. It makes meaningful investments that will benefit the coast, and the entire state, for years to come.

At a time when bipartisan accomplishments can seem increasingly rare, legislators came together to protect our waters, strengthen coastal communities, and ensure that future generations inherit a healthier, more resilient coast.

Among the important achievements is the establishment of permanent funding for the removal of abandoned and derelict vessels. These boats are more than eyesores. Left unattended, they pollute coastal waters, damage marshes and oyster habitat, threaten navigation and become even more hazardous after hurricanes.

For the past several years, the North Carolina Coastal Federation has partnered with the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission, N.C. Department of Environmental Quality, and other organizations to build the state’s largest abandoned vessel removal program. Hundreds of vessels have been removed from public waters in the years following Hurricane Florence. That work has relied on a patchwork of temporary state, federal and private funding. Without a permanent solution, the program was in jeopardy.

The General Assembly changed that in this year’s budget by providing recurring funds to remove abandoned and derelict vessels. With stable funding, North Carolina can respond more quickly after storms, attract additional federal dollars and keep dangerous vessels out of our coastal waters for years to come. Sen. Michael Lee of New Hanover County deserves special recognition for his sustained efforts and support for this funding.

The budget also supports projects that improve water quality, strengthen coastal resilience and help preserve the natural resources that sustain both our economy and our quality of life. Healthy coastal waters and habitats support commercial and recreational fishing, tourism, military readiness, property values and local jobs throughout coastal North Carolina. Taken together, these investments recognize that protecting the coast is not simply an environmental priority, it is an economic one.

These accomplishments did not happen by accident.

They reflect years of collaboration among legislators, state agencies, local governments, conservation organizations, fishermen, business leaders and coastal residents who understand that good stewardship and a strong economy go hand in hand.

Sen. Norm Sanderson and Rep. Celeste Cairns, both representing Carteret County, also deserve particular praise for their leadership on the Coastal Federation’s budget requests this year.

And I want to recognize the many members and supporters of the North Carolina Coastal Federation. Our ability to advocate effectively — in coastal communities and in the halls of the Legislative Building in Raleigh — is possible only because thousands of citizens, businesses, foundations, and other partners invest in our mission. Their support gives us the expertise, credibility and persistence to work across party lines and help turn good ideas into public policy.

Advocacy is often measured by what makes headlines. More often, however, it is built through patient relationship-building, sound science, practical problem-solving, and a willingness to find common ground. This year’s budget demonstrates what can happen when those ingredients come together.

Of course, our work is far from finished. North Carolina continues to face growing challenges from storms and flooding, aging infrastructure, development pressures and changing coastal ecosystems. Meeting those challenges will require continued partnership, innovation, and sustained investment.

This budget reminds us that protecting North Carolina’s coast is not a partisan issue. It is an investment in our economy, our communities and the natural legacy we will leave to future generations. That’s something every North Carolinian can celebrate.

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

Although it has been a dry year so far at Nags Head Woods Preserve, the protected maritime forest on the Outer Banks is a lush and vibrant green. Songbirds flit among the branches. The raucous cry of woodpeckers is distinctive and unmistakable.

Actually, the more than 1200 acres of protected maritime forest along the Roanoke Sound has been drying out for the past few years, and the freshwater ponds that dot The Nature Conservancy’s preserve are showing the effects. Ponds that are usually picture book-reflecting pools are shallow and covered in algal growth.

The ponds are at the base of a series of hills. “They are relict sand dunes,” said Lora Eddy, conservation coordinator for the preserve. You can “take a core sample of the soil, and it’s just a very thin layer of organic with just sand.”

Those ponds, even if they are low, are the key to the verdant growth of the woods, which the nonprofit organization calls “one of the largest remaining maritime forests on the East Coast.”

“It’s really neat how areas between our relic dunes hold rainwater and help provide a little bit of extra water for the forest, wicking up some of that groundwater and that’s in here so they can sustain themselves,” Eddy said.

The best guess is Nags Head Woods formed around 700 to 1,000 years ago, although it could be older than that. Protected from the salt spray and ocean winds by natural sand dune systems at Jockeys Ridge State Park to the south and Run Hill to the north, the woods are filled with old-growth trees, marsh and upland habitats that have withstood everything nature has thrown them for hundreds of years.

“You think about these really cool coastal habitats, they’re just used to change,” Eddy said. “That’s the amazing thing about coastal habitats.”

There are more than 8 miles of trails and the variety is one of the best features of the reserve, Eddy continued.

The preserve seems to offer trails for everyone, including the quarter-mile Center Trail, a loop around two freshwater ponds by the visitor center. It is a very easy trail and a great introduction to enjoying the forest for young legs.

The Sweet Gum Trail is certainly more demanding. Hikers climb ridges with elevation gains that make it seem almost like a mountain trail.

The Sweet Gum Trail connects with the Blueberry Ridge Trail to create a challenging 3.75-mile hike.

There is also an Americans with Disabilities Act, or ADA, Trail with two accessible parking spaces. The 1,850-foot boardwalk circles a pond fed from Roanoke Sound. It may be the best birding trail in the reserve.

In the winter, yellow-butted warblers are ubiquitous, red-bellied and pileated woodpeckers are common and there’s an occasional green heron that can be seen on the fringes of the pond.

At the beginning of the ADA Trail is a butterfly garden. The flowers are just now coming into bloom, but the butterflies have been flitting through the reserve since the first warm weather of April.

Nags Head Woods participates in the Carolinas Butterfly Monitoring Program that “aims to track butterfly populations using scientifically sound, standardized survey methods as well as opportunistic sightings across both North and South Carolina.”

It is a community-based science program and Eddy is enthusiastic about it.

“We are using the scientific method called the Pollard Walk,” she said. “I imagine there’s this circle around me as I walk, and as I walk, I count butterflies within that circle. It’s a lot of fun. When I talk to kids who are visiting, they’re asking me what I’m doing, carrying a clipboard and chasing butterflies.”

The squirrels are out in force this year, dancing out of the way of cars as drivers navigate Old Nags Head Road, possibly one of the last maintained dirt roads on the Outer Banks.

The road is located in Kill Devil Hills and Nags Head and is jointly maintained by the towns. The road, Eddy said, “takes a lot of maintenance.”

The speed limit on the road is 15 miles per hour and for a good reason. It’s only one lane, and meeting an oncoming car involves seeing who has the closest place to back up to allow the other car to pass.

The annual Nags Head Woods 5K hosted by the First Flight Rotary Club takes place every year on Old Nags Head Road the Saturday before Mother’s Day. The race just celebrated its 40th year.

It’s a beautiful road and one of the oldest in Dare County. N.C. State Highway Commission maps from the 1930s show a dirt road heading west off what is now N.C. 12 and then going south along Roanoke Sound until it reaches Nags Head.

Now gone, there was a small but thriving community at Nags Head Woods. The Nature Conservancy published a book in 1987, “Everyone Helped His Neighbor: Memories of Nags Head Woods,” that was reissued in July 2018 featuring interviews with those who lived there.

There are still a few homes on the edge of the woods along Roanoke Sound, but the forest has been largely uninhabited for over 40 years.

In 1973, three young children were racing up the sand dunes of Jockey’s Ridge in Nags Head when they heard the squeaky treads of a bulldozer as it leveled the sides of the slopes. Stunned, they raced home, tearfully sounding the alarm to their mother, Carolista Baum.

Ms. Baum rushed over to the dunes and defiantly stepped in front of the bulldozer, stopping the destruction of this iconic geographical monument. For good measure, she later returned to remove the distributor cap to disable the mechanical beast.

With the town starting to trend as a tourist destination, real estate was booming. This enormous pile of sand was coveted, a target in the crosshairs of ambitious developers. With her bold act of protest, Ms. Baum threw a monkey wrench into the development plans of Jockeys Ridge, protecting a unique coastal landmark. In a short time, Jockey’s Ridge would soon become a state park, setting in motion the life work of one George Grantham Barnes, who died April 23. He was 73.

A geologic wonder, the grains of sand that form the Jockey’s Ridge dune system began piling up thousands of years ago. Ancient quartz sands from the Appalachian Mountains flowed down into the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes and storms eventually washed the sand up and onto the beaches. Their howling winds pushed the sand inland, creating monstrous dunes along a section of the North Carolina coast now known as the Outer Banks.

On Jockey’s Ridge, the salty winds blow life into the dunes, constantly reshaping the sand, creating a dynamic living system. These dunes have micro ecosystems of dune grasses, maritime shrub thickets, maritime forest, ephemeral ponds and an estuarine shoreline along the Roanoke Sound. It’s a place so unique that it was designated as a National Natural Landmark in 1974.

A native of Lumberton, George Barnes attended the University of North Carolina Wilmington. Not long after college, in the late 1970s, he first donned the green and gray uniform of a fledgling park ranger at Goose Creek State Park near Bath. Under the moss-laden live oaks that lined the quiet north shore of the Pamlico river, George settled in to the life of a park ranger.

Just east of Goose Creek, at Nags Head, the juggernaut of Ms. Baum and the nonprofit, People to Preserve Jockey’s Ridge, were successful with their “Save Our Sand Dune” initiative. Working with the N.C. Division of State Parks, the emergence of a new state park was now a reality. Truly a grassroots effort led by the residents of Nags Head. Their advocacy work, raising funds and lobbying politicians, was rewarded in 1975 when the North Carolina General Assembly appropriated funds to establish the park.

Private donations, federal funds and The Nature Conservancy also helped bankroll the purchase of the initial acreage.

During its inception, the first park ranger to patrol the dunes was Phyllis Goodwin. Her time at the ridge was brief, and by 1980, Ranger Barnes was selected by the superintendent of state parks to be the ranger in charge. At first, he commuted from Goose Creek, returning home each day. A real lone ranger, he was the only staff member at the park.

Starting from scratch, George was handed the metaphorical keys to a brand-new park. Given the opportunity of a lifetime, he was now the steward of a natural and cultural landmark so beloved that folks demanded its preservation — a daunting task that must have seemed overwhelming.

In the early days, when the dark summer thunderheads rolled in, he was lucky to have a fickle pickup truck to take shelter in. Ms. Baum checked in frequently to catch up on park operations and to let him know that he was not alone and that the community was there to help.

Carolista Baum’s feisty tenacious nature was buffered by George’s cool, laid-back style. They developed a mutual admiration for each other build on respect and their shared interest in making Jockey’s Ridge the best park it could be.

Ann-Cabell Baum and her siblings were the children who tattled on the bulldozer operator to their mom, Carolista. She remembers, as a child, riding over to the park with her mom on her visits to see George. Over time, she recalls, “he became one of the family, eating many meals with us outside under the shade of the porch.”

On occasion, George and Carolista clashed over their views on issues concerning the park. Recalling her mother, Ann-Cabell said, “She held his feet to the fire.” But despite any disagreement, “she always had his back.”

In 1981, George received some much-needed help when he hired Fran Crutchfield as an additional ranger for the park. She remembers the green, bare-bones, state-contract Chevy pickup truck with a “three on the tree” transmission. They shared the cramped truck cab as the park’s first unofficial office, along with a tiny windowless shed that housed a rotary-dial phone, manual typewriter and a makeshift assortment of tools.

Weekly staff meetings were held, just the two of them, at a local restaurant that served as their conference room. Fran remembers, “We would catch up on things, problems, concerns, and goings-on at the park, over lunch at Sam & Omie’s (Restaurant in Nags Head).”

For many years, the only incoming calls on the shed phone were from N.C. State Parks District Superintendent Cliff Phillips. As George’s longtime supervisor, Mr. Phillips told me that Ranger Barnes faced unique challenges not found at other parks.

With the sand dune ridge now a park, many past activities there conflicted with the philosophy, values and regulations of a state park. It was Ranger Barnes’ duty to curtail those uses.

He also had the unenviable task of enforcing new opening and closing hours in an area that once had 24-7 access. Both changes were unpopular. When neighbors complained, George and Fran had to even shovel windblown sand from private property back onto to park property. Try as he might, George was unable to control the wind.

With the park falling completely within the town limits of Nags Head, it was understood that the performance of the new park staff would be highly scrutinized. At times, George was feeling the heat as if in a pressure cooker. His calm and good-natured demeanor was often taken to task. This iconic dune was important to the Outer Banks beach community. Individual special interests were not shy about expressing their thoughts on how the park should be managed. He tangled with commercial, recreational and civic concerns. At times, he felt political pressures as well.

Undaunted, Barnes seemed as comfortable in the presence of state senators and representatives as he did with his fellow surfers as they sat in the lineup waiting for the swells to roll in. His decisions were made in the best interests of the park to maintain the integrity and dignity of the resource. He operated from a legal mandate straight from the North Carolina Constitution to “… preserve as a part of the common heritage of this State its forests, wetlands, estuaries, beaches, historical sites, openlands, and places of beauty.” During these times, Ann-Cabell Baum said, “He never wavered. It must have been tough for him.”

Mr. Phillips also remembered, “He rolled with the punches,” of which there were many.

George set about developing a park to address visitor interests while keeping intact the core park values of stewardship, conservation, recreation, education and safety. His easygoing demeanor, along with his trademark dark sunglasses, often hid the drive he had for his work. Slowly, the infrastructure commonly associated with a park began to grow: parking lots, restrooms, a staff office and maintenance shop, boardwalks, picnic shelters, a visitor/interpretive center, hiking trails and a recreational concession center.

Under his leadership, the staff grew. Rangers trained in environmental education, resource management, emergency medical, and law enforcement now patrol the park to service the growing visitation.

He also initiated coastal resiliency projects with the North Carolina Coastal Federation, including a living shoreline project along the Roanoke Sound boundary. Working with Southern Shores resident Peggy Birkemeier, a junior ranger program was established along with the Friends of Jockey’s Ridge, a nonprofit group supporting the park since 1990.

But George knew he didn’t accomplish all this on his own. He was quick to credit his supervisors, excellent rangers and the community that supported his vision of what the park could be. Throughout it all, Mr. Phillips said, “George Barnes led the way. He was loyal to the preservation of this park and was a dedicated person who can be given credit for his leadership in all areas of operations for Jockey’s Ridge.”

John Fullwood, who worked with Superintendent Barnes as a ranger at the park for 15 years, remembers George’s passion for his job.

“George had a big heart,” Fullwood said in a recent phone conversation. “If he loved something he gave 100 percent, and he loved Jockey’s Ridge.”

Over the years, George mentored hundreds of seasonal employees that wanted to work at this alluring state park. Many of these employees went on to work in careers involving management, protection and education fields related to environmental and natural resources. On such employee was Ben Wunderly, who worked at Jockey’s Ridge in the mid 1990s.

“His mentoring instilled in me an appreciation for the state park system and a deeper understanding of the connection one can have with a place, like the large sand dunes of Nags Head, or any natural area for that matter,” Ben said.

Ben has also gone on to have a long career, including as a park ranger. He is currently the central sites manager with the N.C. Coastal Reserves and National Estuarine Research Reserves.

As the tallest sand dune on the East Coast, its golden sands glow like a beacon on the horizon. For years, the ridge guided early sailors as they sought passage through the hazardous waters of the Graveyard of the Atlantic. Visible from the U.S. Highway 64 Virginia Dare Bridge, the dunes now flash like a neon sign guiding visitors to a natural oasis within a sea of rental cottages, hotels, restaurants, gift shops, outlet malls and miniature golf.

Here, visitors can learn about the park’s geology, weather, plants, wildlife, habitats and cultural history. Children — and adults — still race up to the top of the 80- to 100-foot-tall dune much like thousands before them. From the top, one can see far out to sea, catch the flicker of the Bodie Island Lighthouse and watch the endless swells as they race to the beach. In the evening, under the golden warmth of the setting sun, time seems stop, if only for a second. Over a million visitors a year are now drawn to the lumpy dunes of Jockey’s Ridge State Park, arguably the premier attraction for visitors to the Outer Banks.

After 32 years at the helm, George retired from Jockeys Ridge in 2009. He continued to keep his ear to the ground with his hand on the pulse of the park. Now, as a park watchdog, he continued to speak out on park issues that concerned him, as well as serving on the board of directors of the nonprofit Friends of Jockey’s Ridge.

Jockey’s Ridge had become part of his identity; it was who he was.

In retirement, he could often be found not far from the ridge, sitting on the beach at the end of Conch Street. In the good company of his family and dogs, he would be reading a novel, soaking in the beach life that he treasured so much. Wearing his Wayfarer sunglasses, with the wind in his hair and the sun on his face, George was in his nirvana.

George loved the Outer Banks. He didn’t need to go anywhere else, as he was already where he wanted to be.

In late April, George passed away after a long illness. Even though his footprints on the sandy slopes of Jockey’s Ridge have long since been erased, he is well remembered.

“The visitors that hike and play on the sands of Jockey’s Ridge may never know that this special place is intact due in large part to the hard work, long hours and dedication of this good man,” said District Park Superintendent Scott Daughtry, now retired, upon learning about Superintendent Barnes’ passing. “Thank you, old friend, for helping make the joy of the ridge part of the lives of uncounted people that you never knew.”

George’s good friend and Fort Macon State Park Superintendent Jody Merritt, also now retired, told me, “George had three main loves in his life: his family, the beach and state parks. These three things were all that George needed.”

Mr. Merritt added that the wind will always reshape the sands, “but the impression George left on the ridge is permanent. He spent his life guarding the shifting sands. His legacy is written upon the hearts and lives of those he served and the land he protected”.

We are all benefactors of the gift of his legacy. A legacy that the Outer Banks community, the Division of State Parks, the State of North Carolina and George Grantham Barnes can be proud of for generations to come.

Celebrations of George Barnes’ life are set for 2 p.m. May 30 at First Presbyterian Church in Lumberton, and 2 p.m. June 20 at Jockey’s Ridge State Park in Nags Head.

Guest Commentary

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

When I was a little kid, my aunt used to point to the foam washing up on the beach and tell me it was whale poop. I wasn’t sure I believed her. I kept a cautious distance from the foam, just in case, but the idea stuck with me.

Sea foam, of course, isn’t whale poop. She knew that. But years later, I learned that my aunt wasn’t entirely off in spirit: Whales really are ecosystem giants, fertilizing the sea and fueling the plankton blooms that support everything from the fish we catch to the oxygen we breathe. Remembering that early sense of wonder now, it’s impossible for me to look at the decline of one species, the North Atlantic right whale, with anything but urgency.

These gentle giants called our North Carolina waters home long before our coastal towns had names. Today, though, these critically endangered whales are facing a crisis they can’t outswim — and a recent move by the federal government threatens to make a dire situation even worse.

Lethal cost of speed

On March 4, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) issued an advance notice that it is considering deregulating the very rules designed to protect these endangered whales from boat strikes.

North Atlantic right whales are particularly vulnerable to ship strikes. They spend long periods near the surface, and they are hard to spot because they are dark in color and lack a dorsal fin.

The problem is simple but deadly: The faster a vessel is moving, the greater the chance that a collision will injure or kill a whale. Even a strike from a midsize boat can be fatal. And these impacts can be dangerous and devastating to boaters as well, including sinking boats and injuring passengers and crew.

That’s why in 2008, NOAA issued the Vessel Speed Rule. It established two types of management tools to slow large boats and protect North Atlantic right whales from boat strikes. First, the rule required boats 65 feet or longer to slow down to 10 knots in Seasonal Management Areas (SMAs) where North Atlantic right whales are expected to be present. Second, the rule established a voluntary speed limit of 10 knots in Dynamic Management Areas (DMAs), which are triggered by North Atlantic right whale sightings and acoustic detections. Off North Carolina, the SMA near Cape Fear is active from Nov. 1 through April 30 — the months when North Atlantic right whales migrate through our waters on their way to calving grounds farther south. The rule was designed to reduce the risk of collisions. Studies suggest boats traveling under 10 knots are less likely to kill North Atlantic right whales should they collide.

These seasonal protections cover a narrow window of time, but they align with when whales are expected or detected, and they remain one of the few safeguards the species has as it moves through some of the busiest shipping and recreational boating corridors on the East Coast. It’s a proven strategy. It works.

Mirage of technology vs. proven solution

Despite this, NOAA’s recent notice suggests that mandatory speed limits could be replaced with “advanced, technology‑based, strike‑avoidance measures.” While innovation is welcome, there is currently no technology proven to protect these whales at the scale and speed of East Coast boat traffic.

Relying on unproven technology while weakening mandatory speed limits is like removing a school zone speed limit because we hope one day cars will have better sensors. The only practical, proven, and scalable measure to protect right whales, particularly when they are migrating with their new calves, is the Vessel Speed Rule.

There are plenty of ways to strengthen the rule now, including updating the times and areas of speed zones to align with the whales predicted path today – not what it was in 2008, all speed zones mandatory, and including smaller boats in the protections. But to weaken or eliminate it all together will only hasten this species’ extinction. We cannot take away one of their best chance of survival.

More than just a whale: an ecosystem giant

The case for protecting right whales isn’t only about compassion for an endangered species. It’s also about safeguarding the health of the Atlantic. North Atlantic right whales act as ocean engineers, cycling nutrients as they migrate along the East Coast, which fuels the growth of phytoplankton, or plant-like organisms in the ocean.

When I think back to those childhood days on the beach with my aunt, I’m pretty sure she wasn’t trying to teach me anything profound about the ocean. She was probably just teasing me, the way adults do with kids who take everything a little too seriously. But the joke stuck, and so did the feeling that the ocean was full of mysteries bigger than I could understand.

Now, years later, I know that whales really do shape the ocean in ways that are just as surprising as anything she could have made up.  Losing them would mean losing far more than a species. It would mean losing a piece of the ocean that shaped us — the same ocean where I learned wonder, caution, and responsibility long before I had the words for any of it.

We have a choice now. We can let the North Atlantic right whale slip quietly into memory, or we can act with the urgency this moment demands. Defending and strengthening the Vessel Speed Rule is one of the simplest, most effective steps we can take to protect these whales and the ecosystem they support.

My aunt may have been wrong about the foam, but she wasn’t wrong about the ocean. Everything out there is connected — and right now, the North Atlantic right whales are depending on us.

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

Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn’t, but Easter came really early this year. But what does a bunny hand-delivering colored eggs and loads of chocolates have to do with gardening?

Ever wonder why Easter hops around like a bunny trying to get away from a fox? Most, although not all, holidays fall each year on a set date. It’s much easier to keep track of them that way. What if Valentine’s Day and Christmas jumped around the way Easter does? It makes it kind of hard to plan decorating and festivities, doesn’t it? It’s a challenge to even remember when to celebrate.

So why is it that Easter skitters hither and yon like a drop of water on a hot skillet? Is it simply afraid of commitment?

How many of you, enticed by our warmer-than-usual March weather, gleefully donned your shorts and flip-flops and got all gung-ho about planting your garden or your flowerbeds? The big-box stores were certainly eager to foster your addiction with all kinds of Hansel- and Gretel-esque “gingerbread house” plant displays.

Long before Easter was, well, Easter, the date now chosen as the holiest of Christian holidays was earlier established as an ancient planting guide that varied, according to the full moon. Our ancestors didn’t always have calendars. Some of them just didn’t pay that much attention. Others, like some of us, wanted to jump the gun and get a head start on the planting season. Weather was cold, weather turned warm, and then they got antsy, the same way we do.

Unlike us, if they planted and lost their seeds or tender, young plants to frost or cold weather, they couldn’t just run out to the nearest garden center and buy more. Saved seeds were often the difference between having plenty of food and going hungry — or even starving to death.

And then there’s that pesky difference between cole crops and warm-season crops. Some plants thrive in cold weather, and some can’t stand it. Some plants love hot weather, and some melt. It’s like the difference between someone who loves winter and someone who prefers summer.

Not only do we need to know when to plant, we need to know what to plant. Blessed as we are, here on the coast, with multiple growing seasons, there’s still an art to getting the cole crops finished before the heat sets in, and getting the warm season crops in as soon as we can without them getting zapped by frost.

You may be thinking, “We’re not growing crops on the moon, so what difference does the moon make to anything?”

The moon, that gorgeous, greenish cheese wheel in the sky, waxes and wanes on a regular schedule. Full every 28-ish days, its increasing and decreasing size affects far more than we realize. Weather. Animals. Humans. Oceans.

Without looking it up, do you know what phase the moon is in right now? It cycles over 29 ½ days from new, when we can’t see it at all, through waxing crescent, which is a thin crescent on the right; and then first quarter, or half-moon; waxing gibbous, which is between half and full; full; waning gibbous, or between full and half; third quarter or half-moon; and waning gibbous, a thin crescent on the left.

Because it can be full every 28 days, it’s entirely possible to have two full moons in the same month, a phase we call a “blue moon.”

There’s usually a significant weather event a couple days on either side of a full moon, whether it be cold, storms, or what have you. Insects hatch out worse around a full moon. Animals, such as deer or fish, feed at different times, according to the phase of the moon. It’s long been a belief that humans get crazier around a full moon. Just ask any nurse, police officer, or teacher.

The moon, our lovely nightlight, moves all the water on the planet four times a day. Think about that! And since humans are walking, talking, thinking (sometimes) bags of water, it has to have an effect on us as well.

Living mostly inside in our heated and air-conditioned homes, most of us don’t pay much attention to the stages of the moon anymore, or even to the moon itself, unless we happen to catch sight of a full moon while moving from the enclosure of our cars to the enclosure of our homes. In times past, the moon was a valuable predictor or harbinger of numerous different events, and wise people paid attention.

So, what does the full moon have to do with Easter and planting?

The reason the holiday doesn’t fall a set date is this: Easter is always the first Sunday after the first full moon after March 21. The spring equinox is March 21, so depending on the Paschal Full Moon, Easter can fall anywhere between March 22 and April 25. However, if the full moon falls on a Sunday, Easter will be the following Sunday.

The spring, or vernal, equinox, is when the sun rises due east and sets due west, and it was marked by the ancients at places like Stonehenge and Chichen Itza to signify the end of winter and the renewal that follows, the beginning of spring.

Theoretically, in our area, there shouldn’t be any more frost after Easter. Easter this year was April 5, while our last frost date is usually determined to be around the 15th of April.

Now, are you beginning to see why Good Friday is often known as “planting day?” Seeds put out after that time should be OK. Keep in mind, warm season crops such as tomatoes, peppers, cukes and eggplants need nighttime temps in the mid-60s to thrive.

If there’s one thing consistent about weather, it is that it’s going to be weather, and like an exhausted, hyped-up toddler on a sugar rush, it’s going to pitch a fit and do what it wants!

This is exactly why there would always be one wise elder in the village or larger area who carefully and accurately kept track of the moon and its phases — the one who cried out, “Stop! It’s not time yet! It’s too early! Wait!”

Just like now, some people listened and some didn’t. Sometimes their jumping the gun worked, and sometimes they failed abysmally.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

If you do research on plug fishing, you’ll find all about old lures like the Heddon Lucky 13, Creek Chub Pikie Minnow and other classics of the genre.

Which came first is a matter of debate that goes on still. Basically, they started out as carved-wood replicas of baitfish and were created primarily for freshwater bass fishing.

There’s a famous story of James Heddon whittling on a piece of wood, tossing it in the water when he was done, and watching as a bass came up and swallowed it. This may or may not be actual fact, but the point remains that carved-wood fishing lures have caught a lot of fish over the years.

Today your plugs are more than likely made of molded plastic, tested in a tank at a research lab, and can do everything from dance on the surface to dive down more than 30 feet deep. Let’s take a look at popular plugs used for inshore fishing on our coast and how we fish them.

Let’s start on the top. Topwater plugs come in quite a few styles. For our purposes we will focus on two, poppers/chuggers and dog walkers.

Poppers and chuggers are pretty much the same thing. The main difference I’ve ever seen is what the manufacturer seems to want to call it. Maybe there is a difference in the noise they make. I can’t tell a difference.

I’ve used big bottle poppers made by Yozuri to catch amberjack on nearshore reefs. The bottle popper is so named due to the shape that resembles a Coke bottle. It has a big hollowed-out face and makes a lot of noise that can call in fish from quite a ways. It’s a good choice in deeper water when you know fish are staging off the bottom and looking around. The noise will bring them running.

When speckled trout are in the surf and the water is not too cold, they will come up for a popper as well. The distinctive sound will get their attention and the shape and movement as the plug is twitched across the surface will trigger a strike. The other type of topwater we like to use is the dogwalking style. I like the Rapala Skitterwalk, others prefer the Mirrolure She Dawg.

Work it by twitching your rod tip with a slight amount of slack line between twitches. The slack allows the lure to change direction and when done properly, it will dart across the surface in a zigzag manner. Darting along, making a slight splash — they have rattles inside to make noise that is great for attracting attention in shallow waters. I’ve seen red drum and trout move from 40 feet away to come and smash them.

Fish will target prey species that are having a difficult time and a dogwalking plug must really look like an easy target.

Next, we will consider swimming plugs. This style was really popularized with the Rapala Finnish swimmers introduced by the Normark Corp. in the 1970s. Now they are made by every tackle company.

Popular models include the Rapala X Rap, Shimano SP, and other similar. It’s basically a long, thin minnow-shaped plug with a plastic lip on the front. When pulled through the water, the lip will produce a wiggle and a vibration.

This style seems to be best in clear waters between 5 and 12 feet deep. You can catch fish simply by reeling the line in with no embellishments. I have found that adding a pause after a twitch will trigger strikes and any kind of hesitation will usually be when a fish bites.

I’ve caught speckled trout, red drum, striped bass, bluefish, Spanish mackerel, king mackerel, bonito and even flounder and, of course, lizardfish with them in saltwater. A good point to realize is that by varying the size of the lip, we can make the lure work at different depths. A smaller and thinner lip will work shallow, while a longer and thicker lip will dive deep.

Smaller diving plugs like the Yozuri DD series can be trolled with a light rod. The big, deep-diving plugs pull so hard that a pretty heavy rod will be needed just to fish them, whether trolled or casted. But they can get down to fish holding in deep water that might not be able to be accessed in other ways besides a deep jigging approach.

Finally, we will take a look at the lipless darter plug. These will be cigar- or teardrop-shaped and they usually sink at rest. The sink rates will vary with the brand and model. We usually will fish slower-sinking plugs as the water gets colder through the fall. After casting, a quick twitch of the rod tip makes it dart. Pause. Twitch again. Pause again. Twitch, twitch. Pause, etcetera. The strikes come on the pause.

Most speckled trout anglers fishing in creeks in late fall and winter will be using the teardrop-shaped darter plugs such as the Mirrolure MR 17. If you see anglers lined up and casting to a slough on the beach in October and November, they will primarily be using the cigar-shaped versions like the Mirrolure 52, even though some larger versions of the teardrop-shaped plug are starting to become popular as well.

If fishing in a creek with faster current, use the ones that are weighted a little more and sink a bit faster. I’ve caught fish on them right through January in fast-moving water. You can find the darter that matches your water conditions and fish moods by using the ones with more or less weight and slower or faster sink rates. Darters are some of the most popular styles of plugs used for speckled trout fishing all along our coast.

By being aware of these different types of plugs and knowing how to fish them and when, you can catch fish in almost any situation.

A final note on topwater too, many anglers look at them as some kind of stunt, or that it only works at low water or during low-light periods. When the water is hot and there is a lot of bait around, I consider topwater plugs the best way to fish. In an informal poll I took of experienced recreational and professional anglers, they were overwhelmingly listed as their most effective style of plugs. Keep that in mind when choosing how to proceed.

Manufacturers of plugs used by the author and those polled were the following:

• Mirrolure.
• Rapala.  
• Yozuri.

Guest commentary

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

Over the past five years, North Carolina communities have endured storm after storm. From the estimated $16 billion of damage caused by the powerful forces of Hurricane Florence to excessive rainfall that engulfed mountain towns during Tropical Storm Fred to the lasting impacts from various unnamed storms, we’ve seen firsthand how flooding disasters are changing North Carolina and its communities.

Now, more than ever, new approaches are required to address the increasing rate and severity of extreme rain events in North Carolina to safeguard communities, ecosystems and local economies. One way to reduce these risks is to build flood resilience across the state, an effort that has proven to save $6 for every $1 spent pre-disaster.  

North Carolina’s Department of Environmental Quality (DEQ) is developing the state’s first-ever Flood Resiliency Blueprint in collaboration with numerous stakeholders, including Environmental Defense Fund (EDF), conservation partners, agricultural organizations, business representatives and local governments. And we are thrilled to celebrate the release of DEQ’s draft plan, which was presented to the General Assembly on Jan. 23.  

At the Joint Legislative Commission on Government Operations Hurricane Response and Recovery subcommittee, DEQ Secretary Elizabeth Biser envisioned that “five years from now, other states will be looking to North Carolina because our process lets communities get back to day to day living quicker after storm events.” The Blueprint is a big step forward, resulting in a massive statewide effort dedicated to building resilient communities equipped to reduce and manage flood risk and vulnerabilities. 

What is the Flood Resiliency Blueprint?  

In 2021, the North Carolina legislature provided funding and a directive for DEQ to develop North Carolina’s Flood Resiliency Blueprint in response to increasing flood risk. Since then, community leaders, government partners, technical experts and academics have worked together to advance this initiative, ultimately designed to help all North Carolinians make informed flood resilience planning decisions.  

The Blueprint will compile all relevant resources and knowledge into one place, and once completed, will function as an online-decision support tool for state and local leaders. This dynamic tool will help establish a single standardized methodology for North Carolina’s flood planning and includes strategies specific to each of the state’s major river basins, including aspects of stormwater maintenance and holistic watershed management. 

DEQ plans to also include components such as multi-scale modeling, scenario exploration systems, guidance documents and planning tools. Additionally, DEQ will continue to update and refine the Blueprint draft by referencing advisory group feedback and community engagement, in addition to other resources. 

How will the blueprint support NC communities? 

One goal of the Blueprint is to help state and local leaders determine where to invest in flood resilience. The Blueprint will give leaders a better understanding of which communities are most vulnerable to flood risk and who needs financial support and technical assistance. 

To achieve this, DEQ will work with communities across five river basins in 2024. They will host information exchanges in each basin to allow communities the opportunity to co-design an action strategy to reduce flood risk within their river basin.  

Ahead of these exchanges, communities will have access to online tutorials and technical assistance to learn more about the Blueprint and how to use the platform. Additionally, the state legislature has pre-allocated nearly $100 million to DEQ to begin implementing projects upon completion of the Blueprint. 

How to continue advancing the Flood Resiliency Blueprint 

It is essential to get the Blueprint right. All levels of government need to work together on this – and we need to trust in science and look to our community leaders for guidance.  

To support downstream communities, the Blueprint must be able to evaluate flooding at a watershed scale to understand how much water is coming down the river and where that water flows out of the river during a flood. When communities seek solutions to reduce their vulnerability to flooding, they should consider what the area’s watershed looks like and how solutions could impact different areas. It’s recommended to look in-town and upstream to ensure the most cost-effective solutions are grounded in science and achieve the resilience results a community needs. Meanwhile, we must also avoid selecting solutions that increase flooding impacts on a neighbor’s property or in towns downstream. The Blueprint could make all this possible, leading to wiser investments of public funds and better outcomes for residents. 

Additionally, EDF encourages DEQ to continue prioritizing North Carolina’s communities in flood planning to align state resilience goals with local community needs. Community members need to understand the purpose of the Blueprint and have access to it so that they can help improve it. Ultimately, a fully built online decision support tool can help a community understand the trade-offs between various flood solutions.  

EDF looks forward to working with DEQ to continue advancing this important initiative and build resilience for the beautiful state of North Carolina.  

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.

Special to Coastal Review

MANTEO — Today is an important time to remember the legacy of Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers.

On Jan. 24, 1880, Etheridge, who grew up enslaved on Roanoke Island and fought with the U.S. Colored Troops during the Civil War, became the first Black person in the nation to command a U.S. Life-Saving Service, or USLSS, station.

The discovery and subsequent investigation of a shipwreck close to the USLSS station at Pea Island, that had not been discovered while the surfmen were on duty led to a recommendation that “Keeper Geo. C. Daniels be removed immediately; cause, false swearing, and his personal acknowledgment of his unfitness for the position. That surfmen L.B. Tillett be discharged; cause, neglect of patrol. That surfman Charles L. Midgett be discharged for cause, not competent for lack of experience as admitted his testimony.”

The final report dated Jan. 16, 1880, led to the appointment of Richard Etheridge to the position of Keeper. The title Keeper is the official title used by the USLSS for the commander or the person in charge of a station. The investigative report making Etheridge’s appointment official was stamped and approved on Jan. 24, 1880. The approval accepted the recommendation that “Richard Etheridge, colored (now a surfmen at Life Saving Station No. 16, Dist. No. 6) be appointed as Keeper of Life Saving Station No. 17, Dist. No. 6 in place of Geo. C, Daniels.”

The findings describe Etheridge as having a “strong robust physique” and being “intelligent, and able to read and write sufficiently well to keep the journal of a station,” and as being “one of the best [surfmen] on this part of the coast of North Carolina.”

At the time the recommendation for his appointment was made he worked as a surfman at the neighboring Bodie Island lifesaving station. Blacks who worked as surfmen in the USLSS were the lowest in rank, and those who cared for horses, cleaned and cooked, in addition to their other duties.

Etheridge’s selection was remarkable, especially considering his appointment occurred not long after the end of the Civil War and he had grown up enslaved. His selection also marked the beginning of a 67-year period, which includes the Jim Crow era in the South, the Pea Island station was staffed primarily by Black men.

Year after year, men, like my own father, Lt. Herbert M. Collins, proudly served. At the time of his death in March 2010, a U.S. Coast Guard release described his passing as “The Death of a Distinguished Coast Guard Legend,” a title he earned, undoubtedly by the examples set by the legendary Keeper Etheridge and others who worked at the Pea Island station before him.

He is best known for being at the Pea Island station the duration of World War II and helping to decommission the station in March 1947. The story of “Freedmen, Surfmen, and Heroes,” a registered trademark and the words surrounding our new checkered life-ring logo, is the story of Blacks who served at the Pea Island station from Jan. 24, 1880, when Etheridge first took to command until March 5, 1947, when my father shut and locked the doors of the station for the very last time.

Today also calls us to remember the challenges Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers faced daily because they were not white. Their 100-year delay in being awarded the prestigious U.S. Coast Guard Gold Life-Saving Medal for their most famous rescue — the daring rescue of nine people aboard the shipwrecked schooner E.S. Newman during a hurricane — is poignant reminder of this.

Our motto, “Their fight is our fight.” is intended to be a bold reminder of the challenges Etheridge and others faced, and during a period in which people were labeled as strictly as being either Black or white to determine what rights and opportunities they were afforded. It also is symbolic of time when a lifesaving station that employed both Black and white surfmen was commonly referred to as having a “checkerboard crew.” On the Outer Banks, there were a handful of such stations, including the Pea Island station, before Etheridge took command.

As we remember Etheridge’s selection as Keeper, today is a reminder of the importance of sharing stories and information associated with the historic station, stories such as those reflected in the unidentified photograph accompanying this release. The stunning photograph shows two white men, who appear to be the ones in charge, sitting in front of an all-Black crew shown standing behind them. The photograph is believed to have been taken sometime in the late 1930s, and after George Pruden, a Black commander of the Pea Island station, had retired. Pruden would later contend the actions which prompted his decision to retire were motivated by others’ desire to place a white commander in charge of the Pea Island station.

Ironically, a copy of the photograph first came to my attention a few years ago, but it is fuzzy at this point as to exactly when or how. During the early stages of my involvement with the Pea Island Preservation Society Inc., I recall seeing the photograph, but can’t recall the details. I remember thinking the photograph confirmed my father’s accounting of reporting to white commanders who were in charge at the Pea Island station during his early service there and before his uncle, Maxie M. Berry Sr., was placed in charge. Given my father is not shown in the group of men standing, I speculated the photograph was taken sometime in the late 1930s before he first reported to the Pea Island station in February 1940. At the time, however, I was new in my journey to learn and do more to raise awareness of this history, but made a mental note to learn more about it one day.

Fast forward to the spring of 2023. You can imagine how delighted I was when the photograph came to my attention again. I was thrilled to be invited to the home of Jackie Wenberg, who showed me the photograph along with photographs of other Midgett family members. She was pleased to learn I thought one of the individuals, the man on the left, was Palmer Midgett and the other on the right, William L. Scarborough, two individuals whose names are reflected in my father’s USCG file as being his superiors when he first reported to the Pea Island station.

She quickly agreed one of the individuals, the man to the left was her uncle, Palmer Midgett, and the other likely Scarborough. However, she admitted she knew little else about the photograph other than it was found amongst the items in the home she was living, a home her uncle Palmer and his parents once lived. Nonetheless, I was thankful to see the photograph again, and that she voiced no objection when I told her I planned to write about it one day when the timing was right.

Releasing the photograph on this special day, Jan. 24, the date of Etheridge’s selection as Keeper is intended to encourage the sharing of information, especially new information, or information that is not widely known regarding the Pea Island station before, during, and after Etheridge’s Jan. 24, 1880, appointment as Keeper. Those who have such information are requested to contact the Pea Island Preservation Society, Inc. by sending an email to: friends@peaislandpreservationsociety.com.

Guest commentary

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

In 2018, one of my best friends, Ashley, moved from her lifelong home in northern Durham to Beaufort, North Carolina, a beautiful coastal town with gorgeous views, a walkable historic district and a peaceful, slow pace of life. I visited on numerous occasions, enjoying the fresh seafood, taking trips to sea on her family boat and falling in love with the old-world, Southern charm of North Carolina’s fourth oldest town.

Once college started and my academic and extracurricular obligations made trips to Beaufort difficult, I was not able to return to the town, until my girlfriend spent the spring 2023 semester at the Duke University Marine Laboratory, a small research facility and campus on Pivers Island in Beaufort. She took marine biology classes and conducted research, quantifying chlorophyll biomass variations at different depths in the water column. When I took a weekend visit, I was fortunate enough to learn about other research being conducted by bright Duke students and staff at the lab, including the measurement of ocean warming and acidification through year-round water samples, the evaluation of microplastic presence in oysters at their aquafarm and analysis on the impact of the decreasing fish population on local fishing economies.

These discouraging findings made me curious — how are these climate trends impacting the residents of Beaufort? And how can Beaufort residents play a role in mitigating these impacts?

Beaufort has faced worsening coastal and climate hazards, like sea level rise, flooding and hurricanes, threatening the homes, businesses and natural infrastructure of the “frontline community” and jeopardizing the well-being and prosperity of residents.

The alarming rise in sea levels and increased flooding during storms disrupts coastal communities like Beaufort. More than 1,300 residential and commercial properties along the North Carolina coast, valued at almost $340 million, are at risk of chronic flooding. If no climate action is taken, by 2045, this estimate increases to almost 15,600 properties, valued at almost $4 billion.

Beaufort has faced particularly severe flooding, especially on the historic Front Street, a bustling hub for local businesses, where the roads are becoming more frequently impassable, hurting the local economy.

The frequency and intensity of extreme weather events will continue to have disastrous effects on Beaufort and other coastal communities. Hurricane Florence in 2018 caused $1 billion in combined crop and livestock losses and $50 million in forestry losses in North Carolina. From 2004 to 2016, the North Carolina Department of Transportation (NCDOT) spent an average of $65 million per year on storm cleanup. From 2017 to 2019, they spent an average of $222 million per year.

Warmer waters and ocean acidification are disrupting marine ecosystems, leading to declining fish populations and shifting habitats for commercially caught fish species. For example, the summer flounder, a species integral to the Beaufort’s trawling industry, is moving north, damaging the local economy and reducing the local food supply.

Commercial fishermen in Beaufort are also facing decreasing shrimp and blue crab populations.

Beaufort residents are not powerless in fostering change. In addition to embracing climate-conscious behaviors and sparking climate change discussion with family and friends, Beaufort residents must exercise their voting power to elect politicians that will protect wetlands and other vital climate-mitigating ecological systems, delegate resources to disaster relief and promote the executive branch’s ability to fight pollution.

In 2022, Beaufort received a grant to participate in the North Carolina Division of Coastal Management’s North Carolina Resilient Coastal Communities Program (RCCP), helping the town develop strategies for dealing with coastal and climate hazards. The public is a key partner in this project, as they can provide local knowledge and perspective on the coastal and climate hazards, informing the resilience strategies. Beaufort residents can help foster effective, equitable solutions and shape the responses taken through the program.

Beaufort is a beautiful, easygoing town with a captivating history spanning over 300 years. The town was organized in 1709. Blackbeard the Pirate ported in Beaufort frequently. The town played roles in both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. The destruction of Beaufort is the destruction of history. Beaufort residents must take action.

See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Guest commentary

North Carolina has over 10.5 million residents, many of whom love to eat seafood.

North Carolinians who love local seafood might not know that the 4^th Circuit of the U.S. Court of Appeals recently rejected an attempt by some recreational charter fishermen and a former producer of a North Carolina fishing show to make it illegal for North Carolina shrimp trawlers to discard fish while fishing for shrimp and to catch shrimp with trawls in Pamlico Sound unless the fishermen had a permit from Environmental Protection Agency or its state proxy.

To the relief of commercial fishermen, the 4^th Circuit ruled unanimously against the plaintiffs, noting their claims would have required recreational fishermen to get an environmental permit before releasing fish back to the water and would have substantial impacts on the public. The shrimpers waited three anxious years for the litigation to run its course and, of course, incurring substantial legal fees to combat the claims.

North Carolina seafood consumers should take note because most of the shrimp caught and sold in our state comes from trawlers in Pamlico Sound. Shrimp is one of North Carolina’s most important seafood and are one of the USA’s most consumed seafood. Had this attempt been successful it would have had significant impacts to folks that love to eat NC shrimp.

Related: Court upholds that trawling doesn’t violate Clean Water Act

Seafood lovers should be attentive because this lawsuit is just one of many attempts by folks in the last 15 years to restrict access to local seafood by abolishing or severely restricting commercial fishing in our state. I observe these increasing efforts with great concern not just as an avid local seafood consumer, but also as a professional fisheries scientist and educator of coastal issues. I served the citizens of our state for 30 years as a coastal fisheries biologist and helped develop conservation policies for the last 15 years of my career. I was honored to serve on the North Carolina Marine Fisheries Commission. I spent almost 10 years after my retirement teaching people about coastal resources at the one of the North Carolina Aquariums and at two of our university marine labs.

These attempts to severely restrict or abolish certain commercial fishing practices are becoming more numerous and extreme in recent years. Proposed legislation, lawsuits such as the 4^th Circuit case, petitions, and other drastic efforts have been attempted that would deny consumers access to local seafood.

Attempts have been made to deny seafood consumers access to certain fish by making them gamefish (illegal to sell), even when at the time their populations were deemed sustainable through scientific assessments.

Efforts have been made to ban specific types of nets used by commercial fishermen to catch fish, when science did not support such draconian measures. Vast portions of areas have been closed to certain types of commercial fishing gear in recent years.

Proposals have been made to close vast portions of current shrimping grounds. Substantial increases in fees commercial fishermen have been proposed. Lowering the numbers of commercial fishermen has been seriously considered. I could go on.

The current number of North Carolina commercial fishermen able to sell seafood is fewer than 2,500 and has been steadily declining the last 15 years. Commercial landings by North Carolina fishermen are at the lowest level since the 1950s. Yet recreational landings and recreational fishing trips have increased since the 1990s. There are an estimated 1.5 million people fishing recreationally in our coastal area. North Carolina is one of the top states in the USA in terms of number of recreational fishing trips and number of fish caught.

These attempts to further limit access to seafood for consumers from wild harvest comes even when the USA has one of the strongest fish conservation policies in the world and North Carolina has one of the most comprehensive fisheries management programs in the USA. Our state is one of the few states that prohibits overfishing by law and is required to develop/implement fisheries management plans based on science. Fisheries in the USA and North Carolina have to be sustainably managed by law. Commercial fishing is one of the most regulated businesses in the USA.

These attempts come when the USA is the second highest consumer of seafood in the world, yet 70-85% of the seafood we consume is imported and only 1-2% is inspected. Our country’s citizens are eating more seafood each year. Research increasingly shows that seafood is a nutritious source of protein. Experts recognize that sustainable seafood production helps the USA address food security issues. In our state one in six children is experiencing malnutrition or hunger. Tourism experts note that when folks visit our coastal areas, they expect to receive local seafood when they visit restaurants.

North Carolina is a unique state, with its vast coastal waters, diverse fisheries, variety of fish species, and a long history of commercial fishing. Fishing and farming have been cornerstones of our past since 1700s. Our commercial fishing industry is mostly composed of small family businesses. The 2,500 or so commercial fishermen help provide food to the 10.5 million North Carolina residents and the millions others in our country who enjoy seafood. Many folks do not have access to our coastal waters or choose to have someone else provide these wonderful food resources to them.

So, I hope seafood consumers better realize that North Carolina fishermen and their associated businesses need our help. Stay alert, ask for local seafood whenever possible, and get informed/involved. Consumers can learn more from seafood consumer education groups such as NC Catch and Carteret Catch or the North Carolina Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services – Seafood Marketing.

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

Guest commentary

We in the Carolinas share space with a wonderful but imperiled plant, the Venus flytrap.

People everywhere know and love this unique carnivorous plant for its remarkable ability to ensnare insects within toothed, snap-trap leaves with a hair-trigger, allowing them to snap shut around a struggling insect within milliseconds. A century before “Little Shop of Horrors,” Charles Darwin was so enchanted he had collectors send him these “most wonderful” plants for experiments. 

Although they are known around the world, we only find wild Venus flytraps in a few special habitats scattered across the coastal plains of North and South Carolina within about 100 miles of Wilmington. This highly restricted range reflects the flytrap’s needs for open, sunny, nutrient-poor, and wet habitats scattered among seasonally flooded depressions in longleaf pine savannas and along small creeks with shrub thickets in the Sandhills. Flytraps also need recurrent fires. Without them, woody shrubs quickly overtop and shade out these plants.

Development has shrunk the range of the flytrap and extinguished many populations. If you’ve driven to the beach in recent years, you’ve seen golf courses, housing, and commercial areas where flytraps once grew. In addition, poachers who illegally dig up the plants to sell them have depleted many flytrap populations.

The flytrap’s highly restricted range makes it particularly vulnerable. Remarkably, more than 75% of all wild plants occur in just four large populations on Marine Corps Base Camp LeJeune, NC state game lands, and in the Green Swamp (owned and managed by The Nature Conservancy). Small populations on private lands are vulnerable to losing the habitat patches or the fire and water regimes that sustain them.

These threats and concerns led botanists and conservationists to petition the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) in 2016 to list the Venus flytrap as federally endangered. The International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) assigned the plant to “Vulnerable” status on its Red List in 2020.

Despite these threats, the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service has ruled that the Venus flytrap “is not facing an imminent threat of extinction now or in the foreseeable future” (July 25, 2023, decision). They point in particular to eight “highly resilient” populations they rate as stable, protected, and well-managed, which should suffice to sustain this species, eliminating any need for federal regulatory protection.

We hope the USFWS is right. We fear they acted on incomplete information and with more optimism and confidence than is warranted. They pin hopes for this species on land managers’ abilities to successfully protect and manage a few remnant populations. History is littered with failures to sustain large and apparently stable and well-managed populations of other species that crashed unexpectedly from unforeseen threats.

In making this momentous decision, the USFWS underestimated the risks Venus flytraps face from climate change. The large flytrap populations that the USFWS rates as most resilient and crucial for viability grow at low elevations along the coast. Sea level is now rising faster than predicted even a few months ago, increasing risks from saltwater flooding during storm surges (which are also increasing). Prolonged droughts are also becoming more common, threatening the moist habitats flytraps depend on. 

The pace of development has accelerated on the Carolina coastal plain. The U.S. Supreme Court recently ruled in its Sackett decision that isolated wetlands beyond navigable waters are no longer protected from development. This halves the area of wetlands formerly protected. Compounding this threat, the North Carolina Farm Act of 2023 (Senate Bill 532) strips North Carolina wetlands of longstanding safeguards and compensatory mitigation. This further frees developers to drain ephemeral wetlands like those that support flytrap populations on private lands. The USFWS’s decision did not anticipate how these actions would threaten flytrap populations.

The smaller flytrap populations on private lands play important roles by connecting large and small populations that enhance viability and slow inbreeding. They also provide the pathways for flytraps to migrate north and inland as climates change.  

The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service decision not to federally protect the Venus flytrap doesn’t mean this unique species is secure. To ensure that wild Venus flytraps remain part of our Carolina natural heritage, consider what you might do:

• Ask landowners with Venus flytraps on their property to request assistance at Venus Flytrap Champions. This organization recognizes and assists landowners and land managers in the Carolinas who want to ​care for populations of this rare species.
• In North Carolina visit Carolina Beach State Park and The Nature Conservancy’s Green Swamp Preserve and in South Carolina visit Lewis Ocean Bay Preserve to learn about the Venus flytrap.
• Donate funds to support the ongoing habitat protection and restoration efforts (see www.VenusFlytrapChampions.org website).
• Support the North Carolina Plant Conservation Program, which also maintains properties where Venus flytrap grows, via Friends of Plant Conservation.
• Spread concern for the Venus flytrap among your friends, social networks, and the media. Encourage writers or newspaper editors to cover this story in depth.

Extinction is forever. If these populations vanish, we lose a unique branch of life and the world’s most popular plant.

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

Amid the shifting tides of change sweeping our planet, the North Carolina coast finds itself at a pivotal juncture, confronted by the increasingly familiar specter of extreme weather events.

While hurricanes have historically been the primary concern, the recent wildfire that engulfed Maui, Hawaii, serves as a chilling reminder of the mounting menace posed by wildfires. Although North Carolina may appear worlds away from the tropical havens of the Pacific, the aftermath of the Maui tragedy underscores the stark plausibility of a similar catastrophe unfurling along our shoreline.

The scorching flames that devoured Maui’s landscape underscore the raw power of wildfires; their ferocity capable of unleashing destruction with minimal notice. Fueled by a lethal blend of drought, soaring temperatures, and invasive plant species, the inferno raced across thousands of acres, sparing none in its path. These unsettlingly familiar conditions echo along North Carolina’s coastline.

I recall the scary events of April 1985, when firefighters fought a wildfire along a 20-mile-long fire line. Flames roared through 6 miles of the Croatan National Forest and forced 600 people to evacuate, including 60 kids at a wilderness camp. The fire blanketed Carteret County in dense smoke for weeks. Persistent northerly winds propelled this fire to the shoulders of N.C. Highway 24, threatening homes and to leap the road and reach Bogue Sound. Yet, as the sun vanished behind dense black plumes, a fortuitous shift in wind direction miraculously drove the flames back into already charred forest areas. The intense glow of the flames illuminated the night sky. Helicopters tirelessly shuttled water in large hanging buckets from Bogue Sound to douse the fire’s lingering embers.

The following May, nearly 73,000 acres — about 114 square miles – of Onslow and Pender counties burned for nearly two weeks in the Topsail fire, which charred more than 80% of the 48,000-acre Holly Shelter Game Land.

There have been others. The 2008 Evans Road fire, which burned for more than six months, consumed 50,000 acres in Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge and Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. The Pains Bay fire in May 2011 and the Whipping Creek Road fire in April 2016, both in Hyde and Dare counties, each raced across the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge toward the Air Force’s Dare Bombing Range.

Each year, a slew of fires along the coast serves as a stark reminder of our vulnerabilities, including this year’s 32,000-acre Great Lake fire, which showered Craven County with ash in April. Also this year, wildfires scorched 16,000 acres of the Green Swamp Preserve in Brunswick County and 5,200 acres in Tyrrell County.

These fires are stoked by the undeniable force of climate change, a factor that has upended conventional weather patterns, amplifying extremities to unprecedented proportions. Escalating temperatures, enduring droughts, and erratic winds have woven an environment where wildfires ignite and rage with disconcerting ease. Our coastline, adorned with fragile ecosystems and a delicate interplay between human endeavors and natural grandeur, stands more susceptible than ever. The looming specter of a “Maui” fire scenario in North Carolina transcends conjecture; it is a distressing reality, particularly as our population burgeons within working lands and forests.

In confronting this imminent threat, proactive measures are imperative. Coastal communities must unite around comprehensive fire management strategies, encompassing early warning systems, defensible home perimeters, and well-coordinated evacuation plans akin to those devised for hurricanes. Synergistic cooperation between local, state, and federal entities forms the bedrock of effective wildfire preparedness and response.

Equally vital is a proactive stance on land management. Routine controlled burns, a practice embraced by the Croatan National Forest, along with targeted removal of both native and invasive vegetation, serve to curtail the accumulation of combustible materials, thus diminishing the risk of an unstoppable blaze. The expansion of controlled fire usage as an ecosystem management tool, harkening back to the practices of indigenous communities, stands essential to striking a balance between human progress and natural habitats.

In parallel, public awareness campaigns emerge as another pivotal component of preparedness. Fostering widespread comprehension of fire safety, evacuation protocols, and individual responsibilities empowers residents to safeguard the properties and loved ones. Swift recognition of the gravity of the situation is paramount, a comprehension that can galvanize citizens to champion policy shifts that accord priority to wildfire prevention and mitigation.

In the aftermath of the 2023 Maui wildfire, the alarm bells toll more resoundingly than ever. The prospect of a “Maui” fire scenario along the North Carolina coast might appear remote, yet the convergence of environmental factors necessitates our attention. Through a holistic and prudent approach encompassing community initiatives and policy reforms, we can collaboratively diminish this menace and shield the pristine beauty and communities that define our coast.

I find great peace in the ever-changing place called the salt marsh.

The tides come and go. Marsh grass is sometimes fluorescent green, other times it’s devoid of color. At times the water appears crystal clear and at others it’s murky. The marsh, or tidal creek appears different as the light changes, fog rolls in or out. Sunrises or sunsets, moonrises or sets, I find solitude in the salt marsh.

There are hundreds of acres of marsh that I paddle on a stand-up paddleboard, an SUP for short. There is little to no sound from my craft that tops out at around 3 mph and is propelled by my single-blade paddle.

The vantage point of just over 6 feet above the water is where I observe some creatures that are just visitors and others that call the salt marsh their home. Some are there to breed, others to feed. I’m just passing through their habitat as an observer, sometimes with a camera to document and preserve the memories of my paddle.

The marsh is a place where I can observe Kooks to my right, Pogues to my left and I’m right in the middle just doing my own thing.

My children grew up there, I refuse to get old there. My children Alyson and Travis grew up on Pages Creek in northern New Hanover County just outside of the Wilmington city limits. They both were greatly influenced by the marsh and they both developed a respect and appreciation for the water.

My son was so moved by this natural environment that he became a marine biologist and is now teaching and doing research for the next generation so they can help preserve our precious resources.

My daughter lives near a beach on the West Coast. She loves to swim in the ocean when it rarely reaches a comfortable temperature, explores tide pools, runs along the coast and will take in a sunset whenever possible.

On my marsh excursions I have seen otters, sea turtle, dolphin, stingray, shark, terrapin, various jellyfish, bald eagle, osprey, deer, owl, tree frogs, heron, egret, migratory birds, spiders, snakes, a multitude of different fish, spitting oysters and a watercraft or two — or more – on which humans are normally speeding by on their way to somewhere else.

I first started paddling the marsh just over 25 years ago. My mode of transportation in the early years was a sea kayak. I’m also a surfer, so when stand-up paddleboards made their way to Wilmington, I was game for trying it.

The first SUPs were basically just large surfboards. I started out with one of this style board and throughout the years moved up to a displacement hull, which is much more efficient then the early basic SUPs. I can paddle much farther and more efficiently, effectively adding much more mileage to my trips.

My longest rigorous paddle was a 12-mile venture just to challenge myself on a really long paddle. My go-to routes are in the 6- to 8-mile range, which is a relaxing outing for me now.

I enjoy bringing first-time paddlers out into the water. I always paddle at their pace (as long as it’s not faster than I can paddle) so they can relax and not worry about overexerting themselves.

One first-timer was Edwin Toone, who is from Spain and in great shape. He did 6 miles his first time out. We were both treated to seeing a sea horse that day, about an inch in length, swimming in Banks Channel at Wrightsville Beach.

A unique experience was when I discovered a colony of bonnethead sharks behind Masonboro Island. It was a fun summer as I could paddle to my secret spot and normally see the smallest member of the hammerhead shark family within a few minutes.

The sharks spend winters several thousand miles south of here and migrate back every year for breeding and rearing their young.

Another time I was able to paddle with a 2-foot sea turtle pretty deep into the marsh and ran across an otter that wanted nothing to do with me, but it was a treat to see.

Marine biologist Wallace J. Nichols writes in his book, “Blue Mind,” that we humans benefit from spending time in, on under and near water. He writes that “the water experience can make you happier, healthier, more connected, and better at what you do.”

I know that when I spend time surfing or paddling I come back to dry land with a much calmer feeling. It’s somewhat similar to the runners high I used to get by putting in a solid run, that is before my knees decided they did not appreciate the pounding from the sport.

The book states that “Blue Mind, a mildly meditative state characterized by calm, peacefulness, unity, and a sense of general happiness and satisfaction with life in the moment.”

It also mentions that, “We know instinctively that being by water makes us healthier, happier, reduces stress, and brings us peace.” I completely agree.

The most exotic sea creature I have seen so far was a spotted eagle sting ray. It looks as though it could have just swam in from tropical waters. At about 4 1/2 feet of wingspan, it was a good-sized ray.

While I have found great solitude in the marsh, my new favorite paddle is with my girlfriend, Cara Bloom. We create our own Sunday brunch by packing some fruit and sandwiches along with a few towels to spread out on the sand. We’ll paddle to our own private beach and let the birds sing us a serenade and provide an airshow. It’s a much better way to brunch than any I’ve ever experienced.

This winter was the first time I went oystering on my board. I could paddle in to waters too shallow for most boats so early season bore plentiful large salty oysters. I would load up a 5-gallon bucket with approximately a half-bushel of the tasty bivalve mollusks to later eat raw or steamed the same day I harvested them, so the flavor was magnificent.

While I have never heard crawdads sing out in my salt marsh, the paddle never gets old.

Guest commentary

June 8 is World Oceans Day, a global commemoration to foster ways we can better conserve and manage oceans and all they provide: our beaches and the family memories we create on them; recreational opportunities, such as fishing, sailing, and whale-watching; and our coastal economies, which thrive by supporting those recreational activities and harvesting and selling seafood.

As the co-owner of Locals Seafood, for me it’s a day to think about the ocean’s bounty and the opportunities it provides to my family, allowing us to proudly make our living selling a fresh and local product. While the global goal of this year’s World Oceans Day is to work toward protecting at least 30% of our “blue planet” by 2030, my interest is local, specifically on North Carolina’s seagrasses. Often overlooked and underappreciated, seagrasses are not just a picturesque element of our coastal ecosystems; they serve as a barometer for the overall health of our estuarine systems and the foundation of our entire coastal economy.

The Tar Heel State has about 120,000 acres of seagrass habitats hugging our barrier islands and enriching estuaries along the coast, more than any other state on the Eastern Seaboard. Unfortunately, in North Carolina and beyond, seagrass faces a troubling decline.

Seagrass beds provide food, refuge and nurseries for more than 75% of our marine life, including the shrimp, blue crabs and finfish so important to my business and our coastal economy. These underwater meadows also act as vital carbon sinks, capturing equivalent amounts of carbon to what’s stored by 80,000 acres of forests, and improve water quality by absorbing excess nutrients and reducing sedimentation, ensuring optimal conditions for the growth and survival of marine life. The intricate relationship between seagrass and our most important marine species highlights the importance of protecting and conserving seagrass habitats for the sustainable management of our fisheries, shellfish industry, and overall coastal economy.

But seagrasses are threatened by the same climate change-driven phenomenon they can help us overcome. Our more frequent and severe coastal storms can rip through the beds, causing damage that can take years to regenerate. Seagrass beds rarely are found in more than 6 feet of water because they require sunlight to thrive, but if the water is clouded by sediment or pollutants, they can’t get enough light to grow. Rising water temperatures, which promote the growth of light-distorting algae, and poor water quality threaten seagrasses.

Polluted runoff also poses a significant threat to seagrass habitats. As a seafood dealer driving between the Triangle and the coast, I see firsthand the sources of nonpoint pollution causing nutrient and sediment-laden runoff into our coastal estuaries. Various land uses introduce excessive nutrients into our delicate estuarine ecosystems by carrying fertilizers and sediment into nearby water bodies, where they fuel the growth of harmful algae blooms and smother seagrass beds, ultimately leading to their demise.

The Earth is losing the equivalent of two football fields of seagrasses every hour, and while North Carolina’s seagrass population is faring a bit better, it’s still declining at an estimated 1% to 2% annually.  

“Nowhere are we seeing increases in seagrasses in North Carolina,” said Jud Kenworthy, a retired scientist with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration in Beaufort, and an adjunct professor at the University of North Carolina Wilmington, told Carolina Public Press in 2021. “And one thing is clear: If you don’t have seagrass, you’re going to lose fisheries.”

Seagrass loss is a clear symptom of more significant issues plaguing our coastal regions. These losses act as an alarming warning sign, highlighting the degradation and imbalance within our delicate ecosystems.

Fortunately, there are simple yet impactful actions that make a positive difference. Sustainable alternatives to traditional lawn fertilizers can help significantly improve water quality. Recreational fishers and boaters can play a role by reducing boat wakes and preventing propeller scarring, which can disturb and uproot seagrass. And to make a lasting impact, we must support and strengthen state efforts to protect the clarity of our waters.

Our state has already taken steps to conserve its seagrass beds. In late 2021, the North Carolina Marine Fisheries Commission updated its Coastal Habitat Protection Plan (CHPP), a blueprint to protect and restore seagrasses and other estuarine habitats. It provides specific direction to state commissions and agencies, and identifies ways that towns, organizations, businesses, and even individuals can help protect and restore coastal habitats.

World Oceans Day gives us an opportunity to both appreciate the progress North Carolinians have made and to also assess the work we still must do to keep our communities economically strong and environmentally resilient.

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

“The edge of the sea is a strange and beautiful place.”

― Rachel Carson

Mine is a short journey, but you wouldn’t know it.

Hushed ripples as my paddle slips through the water are the only noise I make, but everyone else is making a racket. A cacophony of mingling bird calls, fish splashing as they wake up and bounce out of the water every which way. Sunrise is feeding time. I watch a big blue heron standing gracefully in the marsh and swiftly scarfing down a fish for breakfast.

The marsh looks like heaven when the rising sun begins to hit it and the colors of the sunrise reflect off the water. The marsh is my portable paradise, I take it with me wherever I go. When I need to get away from reality for a moment, which is happening more and more often now, I close my eyes and imagine my happy place. The sun on my face, the friends I make of the sea creatures, and the salty and sulphury scent I love because it smells like home. But more importantly, I imagine the journey to get there. It is a tranquility like no other.

If everything is going right, I am out of bed 10 or 15 minutes before the sunrise, and the ebbing tide is setting me up for success. I swing open the garage doors from the corner house on Gordon Street and snag my paddle, maybe my life jacket if I’m feeling like a rule follower.

Clad in a sun shirt and Chacos sandals with my bag of snacks that will soon be replaced with shells, I set out on my way — just a short, two-block jaunt down to the Beaufort waterfront where I find my yellow kayak in slot 10. The neighbors all draw sticks at the beginning of the season in hopes that they will receive a coveted kayak slip by the public dock on Front Street. This year, I was one of the lucky ones.

As the sun begins to peek out behind the clouds that cover the horizon, I heft the kayak off its rack and over to the water. Taylor’s Creek is its own paradise. I can’t wait to get out there.

In the span of just five minutes on the water I can wonder at bottlenose dolphins, a multitude of marine invertebrates (my favorites for their alien-like qualities!), and one of the best sunrises I’ve ever seen. And rarely are any other humans around. The minute my kayak hits the water, I am headed less than a quarter mile, directly across the creek. I want to be by the marsh, where the creatures live. Paddling parallel to the shore of the island, Town Marsh, I stick close to the shallows. There is a steep dip from the bank into the middle of the channel where a strong current may be ripping. I stay right on the edge, where I can peer over the side of my vessel to see what sea creatures are awake.

I pass over a sting ray, or maybe a skate. They camouflage so well, the only way they make themselves seen is from their outline, and the quick flap of the wings as they dart away once my paddle makes my presence known. There — right where the water laps onto the sand — what is it? I see two eye stalks and realize it is a blue crab buried in the sand. Sneaky. After paddling a few feet farther, I spot another. This must be a predatory technique. I wish I could stick around to see if any small fish will get caught in their sly claws, but the current is pushing me forward.

A loud scraping sound interrupts me from my trance. My head jerks away from staring at the water to look in front of me. I have mowed right into an oyster bed. Sweet! Now, just a little bit stuck, the perfect opportunity presents itself to check out what, or who, has made a home on this little reef.

These oyster structures are new in the past couple years. Taylor’s Creek is narrow, and at all times of the day, except sunrise, hundreds of boats go by. Their wakes can cause erosion of the marsh and the island.

Dr. Rachel Gittman, a researcher with East Carolina University, Brandon Puckett, former research coordinator with the North Carolina Coastal Reserve, and one of my professors from the University of North Carolina Institute of Marine Sciences, Dr. Niels Lindquist, came together to test living shoreline material intended to mitigate boat-wake impacts on the shoreline by restoring these oyster reefs.

My small kayak won’t produce a problematic wake, so I get up close and benefit from exploring what is living on the structures! First, seaweed is all I see, but then I see one of my favorite marine inverts. A purple spiny sea urchin! I gently peel one off the substrate, having to manually pry its suctioned tube feet off, so I can get a good look at its underside.

These urchins are not so spiky that they will stab me, as long as I hold them carefully and with taut hands. Cupping its spines, I check out my favorite part of this creature’s anatomy, the Aristotle’s lantern. Five opalescent, sharp, teeth-like protrusions face me. They gape out of a small black hole. Gooey, tiny tube feet wiggle around surrounding the moving teeth. Only a couple centimeters wide, the mouth captures my attention. Obviously, this is something special if it has garnered such a whimsical name. The urchin’s intricate shape and formidable appearance could convince me this creature terrifies its prey.

I frighten myself imaging an urchin 100 times its normal size. Luckily, these globular, spiny echinoderms stick with tiny prey, munching on seaweed, scraping algae, or catching plankton drifting by. Opportunistic omnivores … nothing to be afraid of — unless you range on the side of microscopic body sizes.

I paddle on and see a small shark fin rise in front of me. It must be chasing that school of fish I just glided over. The sun is higher in the sky now and it is almost low tide. Depending on the tides, I could make it to my destination by water only. However, I find more joy from beaching my kayak and tramping across the island. I pull up to the sign that introduces visitors, “Welcome to the Rachel Carson Reserve,” and make sure to pull my kayak up farther on land since I will come back to it at a higher tide. I can’t let my ride float away without me! Grabbing my bag, I look back at Beaufort and turn toward the trail that will lead me into a landscape that calms my whole being.

The gratitude I experience for having the opportunity to be here, early on a Sunday morning in the middle of the fall semester, is beyond measure. You can’t have happiness without first knowing how to be grateful. This space I am in allows me to take clear deep breaths. No one is around telling me what to do, there is no one to care for, no work to be done. It is too early for friends or family to even be awake to interrupt my reverie with the vibration of an incoming text. And this is still just the journey! Pure bliss. The destination awaits.

Scampering across a sandy patch, I find my way to what I’ve deemed my secret trail. It is a bit hidden behind some bushes, but once inside it is like Wonderland. There is a small trail lined by dense trees that open to a cleared, trampled circle. Here, I imagine, are where the wild horses of the reserve hang out to cool off or hide from tourists.

There is a mulberry tree here where I have harvested berries, just enough to sustain me, since I am sure they offer sustenance for the horses as well. I maneuver my way through the rest of the short, overgrown trail and come out on a hill. I can see the marsh, and my destination from here, but if I turn just 180 degrees, I see where I came.

There is Front Street, bustling a bit more as churchgoers and dog walkers start their mornings. I can still hear the honks of a car and the music from a passing boat. It is strange to feel like I am on an uninhabited island yet still hear the happenings of life in town. This is peaceful, I am alone, but not lonely. Just how I like it.

Trekking toward the western side of Town Marsh, I am stepping through dune marsh-elder, American beachgrass, pennywort, and mock strawberries. My favorite flower, which I will always associate with home, is the bright orange Indian blanket, resembling a sunflower. These wild plants mark my way to the path I head toward.

Hot and sweaty, I stop for a drink of water at another favorable lookout spot. I have the perfect vista of downtown Beaufort. Sunday morning is in full swing. I see tourists sitting on the porch at Dock House waiting on breakfast, while others are walking along the boardwalk. I continue on, smiling to myself, appreciative for the beautiful day and knowing I’m now sharing this time with others too.

Only 20 minutes after beaching my kayak, and maybe 30 after launching into the water, I have arrived. I stand at the rickety wooden sign that is painted green indicating Bird Shoal is ahead of me. I sigh and smile again. I’ve made it.

Excusing myself to the mud snails I bother as I walk through a bit of marsh at low tide, I continue over the dunes to the water. Here I have an undisturbed view of Beaufort Inlet, Fort Macon, and the sound side of Shackleford Banks. Blue sky and bluer water. This. This is my happy place.

In her book, “The Edge of the Sea,” Carson recounts her time at Bird Shoal when “in calm weather, one is able to wade out from the sand-dune rim over immense areas of the shoal, in water so shallow and so glassy clear that every detail of the bottom lies revealed.” (pg. 99-100) She captures the view so vividly. I’ve explored North Carolina’s coast, far and wide, and at low tide on a sunny day, Bird Shoal has by far, the clearest, bluest water I’ve seen in this coastal state. I crave wading through those waters.

Never being one who can lie on the beach when there is so much to see and do, I set my stuff down, grab my shell bag, and set off along the shoreline. I’ve trained my eyes for a specific treasure when I am here. They are so abundant, and I trust I will find many since I am here at low tide. And just like that, seconds into my walk I see one. It is big, maybe five inches wide, but half of it is hidden in the sand. I bend down to dig underneath it a bit and pull up a fully intact, white sand dollar. First one of the morning!

The tricky part of shelling, or scouring the beach for the perfect shells, is that some of the shells have an owner, a tenant, or may just be alive itself. Honestly, it is frustrating sometimes. The shell that will forever elude me is North Carolina’s state shell, the scotch bonnet. Only once have I found a perfect scotch bonnet, and lo and behold, it housed a hermit crab.

As a marine science student, and an empathetic person with morals, I let the crab and with it that shell, go back to the water. There is often a large, heated debate among shellers about collecting sand dollars. Once, walking back along Gordon Street from a morning trip to Bird Shoal, I passed a neighbor sitting on her porch. She asked if I had any good finds and I held up my bag of sand dollars. In an accusatory tone she questioned, “You didn’t take any live ones now, did ya?” I said, “No, ma’am,” and held up a bleach-white suspect as proof. She didn’t look convinced.

Growing up as a so-called beach girl, spending much of my time on North Carolina’s coast, specifically around Topsail Beach and Beaufort, I sometimes take for granted my knowledge of marine life. I’ve always wanted to be a marine biologist; I just didn’t know that job really existed until a friend told me it was a real thing when I was 9 years old!

Learning about life on the estuaries so young, I sometimes forget that those unfamiliar in marine territories do not share my knowledge base. Appalled describes how I felt when, as a preteen, I was with a visitor who didn’t recognize a live sand dollar versus a dead one. It was an eye-opening experience to understand the importance of marine education.

Sand dollars and sea urchins are in the same phylum, the echinoderms. A similar feature in this phylum is their five-part symmetry, and tube feet, which I mentioned with the sea urchin. Tube feet help urchins move, but they are not extremely noticeable or visible compared to their long, obvious spines. In comparison, sand dollars have tiny spines and tube feet that cover their exoskeleton. When they are alive, they will be a dark color, like green or purple, and feel bristly to the touch. They use the spines and tube feet to move, eat and breathe.

If you find an intact sand dollar that is white and smooth to the touch, you have found a dead, dried-out sand dollar. What you see is its hard exoskeleton, or test, and there should be a flowery star-shaped pattern. Some people believe these creatures look like a flattened version of their cousin, the sea urchin. You can take a white sand dollar home with you, but be careful, because they are delicate and can easily crumble in your hand.

As I continue my walk east along Bird Shoal, I stay wading in the shallows looking for these small white disks that have gotten buried along the bank. “Ah!” I scream to no one as I scuttle out of the water to dry land. A small shark darted past me as I was reaching down for a shell. My affinity for sharks does not replace my respect for what nature could do to an uninvited guest to their home. I do not need to be swimming with sharks this early and while I am alone. I wait for the shark to swim away then continue my hunt. The sand dollars are abundant during low tide this morning! I add my treasures to the bag.

Occasionally I will look or walk up to the windblown dunes and see wild horses gathered in the marsh. During the beginning of the pandemic, another paradise-seeker had revamped one of the “Protect the Wild Horses” signs. It now states boldly “SHOAL OF SOCIAL DISTANCE.” I like that message, but the sign is fading now, as is our concept of social distancing. Maybe I will update it. Despite social distancing not being as prevalent now, Bird Shoal still offers and provides.

Pandemic or not, sometimes I need my own space.

On any one of my trips to Bird Shoal, I typically come back with around 20 to 30 sand dollars, five miles walked, two podcasts listened to, maybe a sunburn, and definitely dehydrated. However, another thirst is quenched. I am refreshed, feel accomplished and have been to my happy place. I can start the day stronger, ready to face whatever comes my way.

I am grateful to have discovered a peaceful place in the middle of a chaotic world, right out my back door. So close, and yet, at times, seems so far. Surrounded by the beauty of wind and water, seashells, sea creatures and sunshine. This place reaffirms my calling to environmental science and marine biology. The N.C. Coastal Reserve and National Estuarine Research Reserve work to preserve places just like this and keep them open to the public. These reserves are magical and can transport me even if I just close my eyes and imagine being there. I recommend visiting at sunrise. Listen for the splash heard as a pelican lands after gliding above. It almost sounds like a whale breaching.

This may sound cliché but a simple hike through Town Marsh and a walk along Bird Shoal puts me one with nature. Rachel Carson said it best, and I hold these words that get me through hard times: “Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.” How wondrous to know I find joy by exploring the same places, walking the same paths the inspiring and influential Rachel Carson did in the 1930s. In this volatile world, which seems to have more downs than ups these days, there is a place, my happy place, where it’s just me, my footprints, and my place on this planet.

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

As we pause to ponder the year that was 2022 and consider our goals, or resolutions, for the year ahead, we at Coastal Review vow to our valued readers to continue our work to provide objective reporting and thorough analysis of issues important to all North Carolina coastal counties and communities.

We will strive in 2023 to further extend our reach and provide the relevant, credible, accurate and thorough environmental reporting that you have come to expect, as well as the cultural, historical and science journalism that resonates with so many readers.

Coastal Review has published more than 900 news items and reached more than 689,000 readers during the past 12 months, with 1.1 million page views.

In addition to our daily publication of breaking news and features, we published during 2022 more than a half-dozen special reporting series to examine relevant issues more closely.

This year included special reports on climate science and solutions as relevant to the North Carolina coast, as well as aquaculture in a changing climate; navigation and federal infrastructure spending; the five years of research and efforts to address chemical contamination of drinking water supplies in eastern North Carolina; state funding of shallow-draft inlet maintenance; the role of sustainable seafood in the American diet; and the issue of erosion-threatened houses on the public beaches of the Outer Banks. The sustainable seafood series published this year was produced in collaboration with another respected nonprofit news service, North Carolina Health News, our first joint effort.

Some of our most-read stories of 2022 have been about coastal transportation issues such as navigation, N.C. 12 and bridges, and three of our top six stories in 2022 were related to the collapse of oceanfront houses and associated issues.

Our work also earned recognition from our peers. In 2022, Coastal Review received seven awards during the North Carolina Press Association’s annual editorial contest, including first-place awards for breaking news coverage, feature photography and general news photography, a second-place award for overall general excellence and third place for appearance and design in the contest’s online-only division. Entries are judged by member journalists in other state associations.

Coastal Review has been a member of the North Carolina Press Association since 2015. The association works to protect the public’s right to know through the defense of open government and First Amendment freedoms and helps maintain the public’s access to local, state and federal governments.

We worked during the past year to help sustain environmental journalism as a profession. Our science freelancer Lena Beck received her master’s in environmental science and natural resource journalism this year and included her work for Coastal Review in defending her thesis. We also added fishing columnist Capt. Gordon Churchill, highlighting another important aspect of life on — and the lure of — the North Carolina coast.

Our publisher

The work of the Coastal Review staff and contributors is but one aspect of the 40 years of accomplishments of our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation, which marked the anniversary by stepping up its efforts to protect and restore the North Carolina coast.

“Doing what we do best — protecting and restoring our wonderful coast — is the best way we could ever celebrate the past four decades of work,” said Executive Director Todd Miller, who founded the organization in 1982. “We’re proud that the Coastal Federation has been able to continue to make lasting strides to improve the health of North Carolina’s coastal environment.”

The work included efforts to keep coastal waters clean, maintain and expand living shorelines along estuaries, restore oyster reefs and expand shellfish farms, remove hundreds of tons of marine debris, and improve day-to-day decisions about how the coast is managed.

In terms of water quality improvements, the Coastal Federation completed a 20-year restoration at the nearly 6,000-acre North River Wetlands Preserve, one of the largest single wetland recovery projects in the nation.

The organization also restored 365 acres of wetlands in Hyde County; installed a rain garden at the University of North Carolina Wilmington that collects 200,000 gallons of runoff per year; installed a pervious paver cul-de-sac in Pine Knoll Shores that will infiltrate 14 million gallons of runoff per year; and installed a stormwater outfall retrofit in Swansboro that treats approximately 13 million gallons of stormwater per year.

The Coastal Federation worked with watermen and women and contractors to remove 652,180 pounds of large-scale marine debris from coastal waters. It worked with 48 commercial watermen and women to find and remove 1,983 lost crab pots and hosted eight volunteer cleanups that resulted in the removal of 1,200 pounds of small-scale debris. The organization worked with the N.C. Division of Coastal Management and N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission to remove 21 abandoned and derelict vessels totaling 182,860 pounds.

The Coastal Federation built a total of 1.21 miles of living shoreline at 34 sites and worked with Belhaven, Carteret County, Carolina Beach, and Fort Macon, Hammocks Beach and Jockey’s Ridge state parks, Marine Corps air stations Cherry Point and New River, Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune, the N.C. Department of Transportation, Swan Quarter Harbor, and Morehead City to fund, design, and permit future large-scale living shorelines.

The Coastal Federation collected 2,778 bushels of oyster shells and worked with the N.C. Division of Marine Fisheries to build 7 acres of new oyster sanctuary at Cedar Island. It worked with the Natural Resources Conservation Service to offer a new cost-share program for oyster growers and partnered with Carteret County to plan a logistics hub for shellfish farmers who don’t own waterfront property.

The Coastal Federation helped Topsail Beach, Surf City, North Topsail Beach, and Wrightsville Beach in their development and adoption of ordinances to ban the use of unencapsulated polystyrene in dock construction. It hosted an Offshore Wind and Wildlife Summit to advance understanding of environmental management issues involved in siting offshore wind energy facilities. And it promoted the use of nature-based stormwater solutions to improve water quality and reduce flooding in the state funding priorities.

Support our work                 

While we maintain separation between our reporting and the advocacy work of our publisher, your donations to the Coastal Federation also support Coastal Review. Our objective with Coastal Review is to provide various perspectives and inform readers. Our professional journalists strive to meet the highest standards of fairness and accuracy. Our editorial decisions are made independently of the publisher and any other persons or interests.

Our publisher’s financial health, accountability and transparency have earned it a perfect score with Charity Navigator. Fewer than 1% of the thousands of charities rated by Charity Navigator have earned perfect scores.

You can support our work by joining or giving a gift membership to the Coastal Federation, by becoming a member of the CRO Press Club, or by putting your business in the Sponsor Spotlight.

We thank our donors, sponsors and Press Club members. Your support empowers us to continue to deliver the news that matters for the coast.

Marine geologist Dr. Stan Riggs was recently among six chosen to receive the North Carolina Award, the state’s highest civilian honor. Gov. Roy Cooper presented the awards Nov. 15 during a ceremony at the North Carolina Museum of Art. Dr. Riggs told Coastal Review that the award truly recognizes all the groups, scientists and others who have worked over the last half century to understand, protect and manage the state’s dynamic natural coastal resources. He has provided his award acceptance speech, which follows, as a guest commentary.

— The editor.

North Carolina’s Land of Water represents our past, present, and future. It is a world-class mixing basin and transition zone where upland river valleys and coastal plain peninsulas meet the ocean. It is a high-energy intersection of land, water, and air where sunny day calms quickly shift to high-energy stages of dynamic change.

In our unending rush to conquer the ocean’s barrier islands we tend to overlook the inner coastal world of estuaries, wetlands, and lowlands that require one to slow down and become acquainted with the more introspective and contemplative components of our natural coastal system. This land of water with its vast natural resources and extreme dynamics has dictated the cultural history of our great state of NC; this is the unwritten chapter in most of our history books!

There will always be a shoreline and coastal system wherever an ocean intersects a land mass; it just won’t be in the same place as they move in response to changing climatic and geologic conditions! Unfortunately, historical economic development practices in our coastal system have largely ignored the dynamics of natural change. Centuries of ditching, draining, and clearing wetlands and the more recent development of urban cities on mobile barrier sand piles have created unintended consequences resulting in massive economic losses by ongoing climate change. Within this watery world there are certain limits to growth and development where water is both a critical resource and a harsh dictator!

Related: Stan Riggs to receive 2022 North Carolina Award

The earth’s dynamics have challenged the engineering prowess of many great minds over the past four centuries. Now in the 21^st century with rising sea level and exploding coastal populations, North Carolina finds itself in the throes of a perfect conflict — an escalating battle between natural storm dynamics that drive coastal change and the economic drive to stabilize and develop the land and water resources. This is an untenable path that is severely wounding the golden goose of profits and morphing it into the gray goose of silence. When living within this dynamic intersection of land, water, and air, where change is a critical constant, society must adopt a more humble approach and learn to live with the changing system dynamics!

I have dedicated my entire 58-year career to understanding the complexities, processes, and evolutionary history of our Earth’s resource systems and translating that knowledge to the citizens and leadership of our great State of the Longleaf Pine. I did not earn this award alone; I always worked with great teams of students, colleagues, and public who care about living gently with the dynamics of change in our rivers, estuaries, barrier islands, and vast coastal ocean. This coastal world of land and sea is our only home; its natural resources and dynamics drove our cultural history and will dictate our future.

Finally, I am totally honored and humbled by this lifetime award for supporting an incredibly stimulating and educational career’s worth of work. Thanks to my precious and always supportive family, East Carolina University for providing exciting opportunities and challenges, the many amazing cohorts and team members, the support and partnerships with numerous state and federal agencies and nonprofit organizations, and to our dedicated state leaders and educators.

Thank you for this honor.

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

There’s always that guy who catches fish. You talk to him at work or at the store or wherever and ask him about how the fishing has been and he’s always getting them.

You ever stop to wonder why?

Is it because he’s just so lucky? Maybe his grandfather taught him all the secrets? Is it because he’s been doing it for such a long time? Something else? All those things do contribute to making someone a good angler.

Ray Scott used to say, “There’s no substitute for time spent on the water.” That is definitely true. But there’s something else. I’ve met many people on fishing trips during my life. All with varying degrees of ability.

The one thing I’ve noticed over the years that the best have in common intuition, a natural talent, if you will, to understand what is happening around them, in the water, and what is happening on the end of their line. These people see, hear and feel things that others do not and, more importantly, are able to comprehend these signs and put them together in a way that allows them to catch fish when others may not be.

Our first sense is sight. It’s estimated that 80 to 85% of our sensory input is through vision. So, it’s important to always look around and actually see what is happening. Even more important is to understand what we’re looking at. If you go offshore and are looking for fish like bluefish, bonito, false albacore, Spanish mackerel, tuna, or whatever, there is not a lot going on out there sometimes. You always hear people saying, “Look for the birds.” What does that mean? Which birds? Doing what? 

Ay, there’s the rub. It depends a lot on what time of year you are out there and what species is your concern for that day.

Let’s assume you are trying to catch Spanish mackerel and you are not trolling. You would like to cast small jigs or flies to actively feeding fish. It’s a fun way to pursue them and can be productive as well. There will be a myriad of birds out there. You might see terns, gulls, pelicans, or who knows what else. If you are looking for birds and see all these guys out there, how do you know which ones to follow?

Some people just do what all the other boats are doing. They see a bunch of boats run over to a spot, then simply follow them over. This tactic can work. In fact, it does for many. If you are out there enough you’ll notice however that certain people always seem to be there before all the others. Is it due to magic, luck, both?

Those types of people observed what was going on out there and intuited the signs they were seeing and made a bet that the fish were going to be in a certain area where certain birds were doing certain things. They followed the signs, if you will. In so doing they found the fish.

We’re not going to go into what all the kinds of birds are and what they do. That would take a textbook. Let me just say that they are called “See” gulls for a reason.

Always be on the lookout for splashes of any sort. All kinds of things make splashes. It’s good to know what different kinds of splashes look like. Splashes, swirls and boils are all indications that things are happening around you. It’s good to know what feeding swirls and splashes are and what they look like. Then to determine what caused it and why. Again, a textbook would be required for me to spell it all out here. There are too many variables.

Smell is more important than most people understand. When gamefish are feeding in schools there is a certain smell. I’ve heard it described over the years as smelling like melons. Maybe. But it’s distinctive. If you smell something that you don’t normally, and it’s not coming from you, it may be worth slowing down and checking it out.

But more important than smell, and almost as important as vision, is hearing. All the various sounds we hear in a day on the water tell us something. A splash in the back of a creek could be a mullet or a feeding fish. A bird screeching as it wends its way along could lead us to something good. My very favorite fishing sound is a pop. It sounds like a champagne cork. It’s caused by a predatory fish flaring its gills and taking a baitfish or shrimp that was swimming right on or near the surface. I hear that sound and I am immediately on guard.

Now let’s put it all together.

We’re cruising down the ICW on a perfect day. Light winds. Clear skies. Hardly any other boats out there. As we head along towards our favorite spot some things happen. First thing we notice is a weird smell. It’s not an engine smell and it’s vaguely organic. Slow down. Start looking around. A gull has stopped its forward progress toward the beach and turns sharply. Follow along the path it looks like it’s taking. Along the shore there are some waves. They are moving parallel to the shoreline and in the opposite direction of the current. The gull is hovering above, looking down. Some small minnows burst from the water in a shower. You see a splash and hear a champagne pop. You just happen to have a topwater plug tied on. You make a cast but don’t hook up.

The fish are still there.

Cast again. Still no hookup. What else? Look at the water. Is there lots of floating weed? Your hooks may be picking up the weed and getting fouled. Is your lure too big? Sometimes fish get locked onto the size of the prey species they are attacking. Start putting the rest of the pieces together. When you do, you’ll have success.

Start to do this often enough, then you’ll be the guy who gets his pictures out to show off at the office every Monday.

There’s a certain fish that most inshore anglers are thrilled to catch.

Is it a spectacular battler that excites with amazing acrobatics? No. Does it run in huge schools and provide a spectacle of nature? No. Does it grow to huge sizes and fight so hard it might pull you into the water? Not even close. Does it make people happy when you bring home a big bag of fillets? Yes, that’s the one.

Of course, we are thinking about flounder. This bottom dweller that is rarely seen, that makes no fuss and doesn’t provide any kind of memorable antics or theatrics when hooked, is a fish that nonetheless provides hours of angling enjoyment and gets loads of people on the water. Why? It’s simply the fact that people love to bring them home for a tasty fish dinner. They can be prepared in a myriad of ways, as simply or complicated as we can imagine, and always please.

With the upcoming season, it seemed like a good idea to take a look at some effective methods to target these tasty flatties, how to prepare them to bring home and of course good ways to bring them to the table. I talked to a couple of coastal North Carolina charter captains who specialize in bringing these tasty critters boatside to see what we could learn.

Capt. Rick Patterson of Cape Crusader Charters in Morehead City specializes in fishing the inshore waters. You’ll find him in the marshes, creeks and sounds pursuing trout, red drum and, of course, flounder. He does things a certain way because of this. He finds that fishing around hard structure gets bites. Docks and oyster bars seem to be pretty popular flounder hangouts.

Much of the time he will be using a Carolina Rig with a live finger mullet. Slide a sliding egg sinker onto your line, just heavy enough to reach the bottom in your depth and current. The real pros then put a sliding bead onto the line and then tie on a swivel. The bead protects the knot that you tie to the swivel from being abraded by the egg sinker. Next attach about 2 feet of leader line. I have always used 40-pound test to protect from bite-offs from bluefish and other toothy critters. Finally attach a hook.

Many people are still using the traditional style hooks such as O’Shaughnessy types, size 2/0 or 3/0. However, the better option for live bait fishing is a circle hook. These hooks end up in the corner of the mouth and allow for safe release of undersized fish. Let the fish run with the bait, then simply come tight. The hook will find its spot and you’ll have a fish on. Capt. Rick also adds that he catches a lot of flounder around his regular areas using a live shrimp under a popping cork. A popping cork is a float that you attach to your line ahead of your bait. It floats on the surface and when you pull your rod tip with a sharp snap, it makes a noise on the surface similar to what a shrimp sounds like when it’s jumping. This attracts all manner of inshore fish and works on flounder, too.

Capt. Rick also says, “Docks are definitely a place where you can really catch a big fish inshore. My biggest flounder have all come from docks.”

His favorite docks are ones that have been around for a while. These have more growth on them, attract more small creatures and in turn have more large creatures. He also prefers that they have a bigger boat on a lift, which means deeper water on the end. Some good current is a plus and the best time to fish them is at low tide. The fish will sit in that deeper spot off the end. He’ll keep his trolling motor on and make a few casts into the hole.

“Most of the time, if the fish are there, you are going to catch one in the first few casts,” he adds.

Big flounder can also be caught offshore around reefs and wrecks. I asked Capt. Will Gillikin of Local Knowledge Charter in Atlantic Beach how to do it. He likes to use a Carolina Rig, but he changes a little bit, he fishes a heavy main line and uses a 25-pound leader so when he gets snagged he can easily break off the hook without losing his rig, tie on a new one and be back in action.

“Flounder has been my favorite species ever since I was a kid growing up in Morehead City,” he says.

Gillikin used to spend his summer days drift fishing the waters between the Morehead City waterfront and the Atlantic Beach bridge. Now the artificial reefs and wrecks that are all along our coast are his preferred spots. Flounder like to hang around the edges of the structure and he will drift fish around these areas with a live finger mullet.

A little added method that I, and many others, like to use is to bottom bounce a 2- or 3-ounce bucktail jig tipped with a soft plastic tail of some kind. Flounder will hit these after you lift it up from the bottom and it sinks back down again. It’s pretty common to catch fish over 20 inches long doing this.

Back at the house …

Now for the reason we all go flounder fishing: what do we do with them when we get them home.

Fillet the fish in whatever manner you choose. If you’ve never done it before, check videos on the internet, there are like a million (or so it seems).

Get your fillets in a dish and prepare three bowls and another dish. In the first bowl put some flour, in the second bowl, lightly beaten eggs, in the third bowl, panko-style breadcrumbs. Roll in flour, dip in egg, then the breadcrumbs. Move to a clean dish.

I like to fry outside in a large, cast-iron Dutch oven over the flame of a turkey fryer. Get your oil up to 375 degrees. Use a thermometer. When you drop in the fish, the temperature will reduce but then begin to climb again. Maintain control of your heat source to keep it below 375.

Remove the fish when they are literally golden brown. They’ll be perfectly cooked through. Add kosher salt while still hot. Serve on a bun with homemade tartar sauce (mayonnaise, pickle relish, dash of mustard) and a slice of cheese.

Or just eat it while it’s still sizzling.

Guest commentary

From Lea-Hutaff Island to the south end of Wrightsville Beach, birds are returning to nest at our inlets and beaches. Brown pelicans are already patrolling the waves and marshes to feed their young. Black skimmers and least terns are raising chicks right on the sand, to the delight of beachgoers and vacationers. 

Birds have safe places to rear their young on our coast thanks to years of teamwork by conservation organizations, volunteers, state agencies, and local governments. A new bipartisan bill in Congress offers an opportunity to build on this work by protecting our beach towns and important coastal habitats at the same time. 

The Shoreline Health Oversight, Restoration, Resilience, and Enhancement Act, or SHORRE Act — which is backed by Republicans and Democrats in the House and Senate — would preserve coastal habitat while providing affordable, alternative sand sources used for beach nourishment projects. Under the bill, local governments would be able to seek federal support for any added costs of dredging and sourcing sand outside of sensitive coastal areas. It’s a win-win: Communities get sand for beach renourishment projects while protecting the habitats that birds and people depend on.  

For decades, pristine beaches, marshes, and inlets up and down North Carolina’s coast have been protected from development by the Coastal Barrier Resources Act (CBRA). Signed into law by President Ronald Reagan in 1982, the program prohibits development and federal infrastructure spending in certain designated areas. 

The result has been a generation of conservation that continues to make our coast a top-tier destination, from world-class fishing to open stretches of untouched beach to the abundant wildlife we all enjoy. The new bill would build on CBRA to support beach towns and ensure habitats are conserved.  

That means enduring protections for the places that serve as nurseries for marine life, including important commercial and recreational fish species. In North Carolina, the commercial saltwater fishing industry brings in $78 million per year. 

It also means enduring protections for rare bird habitat, from undeveloped stretches of open sand home to vulnerable beach-nesting birds like least terns, to inlets that provide safe places for plovers, skimmers, and oystercatchers to raise their young. Sand mining in inlets and other nearshore areas can harm habitats that are vital to shorebirds and waterbirds, with damage to the food chain persisting for months to several years. 

Undeveloped inlets, islands, beaches and wetlands in the CBRA program also help protect upland communities from storms and erosion. A 2021 federal report found that sand mining in inlets, like those protected by the CBRA system, can harm downdrift communities, increasing their erosion and exposing them to greater storm hazards. 

Closer to home, this compromise bill will help ensure CBRA areas like Masonboro Island remain a beloved destination for families and wildlife for years to come. 

The SHORRE Act is a strong example of how we can continue the work of protecting the environment and supporting coastal communities at the same time. Audubon North Carolina supports the balance that it presents, and urges North Carolina’s Congressional delegation to vote in favor of it. 

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

Guest commentary

This is the third and final piece in a commentary series by the nonprofit Environmental Defense Fund.

When North Carolina’s recent greenhouse gas inventory was updated earlier this year, it surprised few to see the electric power and transportation sectors account for the vast majority of the state’s climate emissions. And while there have been improvements in fuel-economy and greater adoption of clean energy over the years, a recent report by EDF found that the state is not on track to meet its climate pollution goals without new policies to meet its targets. Gov. Roy Cooper set important goals for the state to slash climate-warming pollution in half by 2030, so it makes sense that the state should first tackle its biggest offenders. Thankfully, there are readily available solutions for the transportation and power sectors that North Carolina can take advantage of to meet its climate goals, bolster the economy, and reduce harmful air pollution.  

When it comes to tackling transportation emissions, new analysis from RTI International, a North Carolina-based nonprofit research institute, shows that adopting clean transportation policies for medium- and heavy-duty (MHD) vehicles can make a big difference toward reaching the state’s climate goals while also offering significant health benefits, and providing billions of dollars of net-benefits to our state’s economy by 2050. Because MHD trucks and buses produce disproportionately more pollution than passenger cars, electrifying this class of vehicles will have an outsized impact on cutting pollution. RTI’s researchers concluded that the implementation of two policies — Advanced Clean Trucks (ACTs) and Heavy-Duty Omnibus (HDO) — could provide total net benefits between $25 billion and $53 billion for North Carolina’s economy by 2050. Improved air quality resulting from these policies provide even greater benefits, amounting to nearly $110 billion in cumulative public health savings for North Carolinians over the same time period. 

Under the Advanced Clean Trucks (ACT) rule, North Carolina would increase the percentage of new zero-emissions trucks purchased in North Carolina each year, beginning with the 2026 model year through 2035. Under the Heavy-Duty Omnibus (HDO) rule, the state would establish declining exhaust emissions standards for heavy-duty vehicles, requiring an additional 75% reduction in emissions starting with model year 2026, and then a 90% reduction beginning in model year 2027. Implementing both of these policies would cut North Carolina’s transportation pollution by nearly half by 2050, which is the equivalent of avoiding the use of roughly 16 billion gallons of diesel fuel or taking 35 million passenger vehicles off the road for a year. 

Cleaning up the power-sector is the linchpin to a clean economy because it unlocks deeper reductions in other sectors that rely on electricity, such as buildings and electric vehicles. Successfully achieving power-sector climate goals is essential to achieving the state’s economy-wide goals. The new North Carolina energy law enacted last fall, HB951, calls on the North Carolina Utilities Commission to develop a Carbon Plan to reduce power-sector pollution. The Commission will need to implement a strong Carbon Plan that puts the power-sector on a firm path to consistently drive down climate pollution, expand the use of clean energy, and meet the 2030 target without delay. 

A program like the Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative (RGGI) could also play a key role in driving progress toward North Carolina’s power-sector climate goals, and is currently under consideration by the state’s environmental regulators. RGGI has enabled 11 other eastern states to lower climate pollution from power plants, successfully cutting emissions in half over the past decade. A report published last year by researchers at Duke and UNC found that joining RGGI was the most cost-effective pathway to reducing power-sector pollution, and that when implemented alongside other climate and clean energy policies, RGGI had the effect of improving the overall affordability of those policies. Based on that analysis, it’s reasonable to conclude that the RGGI program would be a meaningful complement to the H951 Carbon Plan, improving both its effectiveness in delivering carbon pollution reductions and doing so at lower cost to ratepayers.

Governor Cooper has laid the groundwork for North Carolina to be a national leader on climate with the pollution reduction goals established by Executive Order 80, and Executive Order 246. With just eight years remaining to meet the critical 2030 milestone, future North Carolinians will recognize this time as a defining moment in the fight against climate change. And though not currently on track to meet its climate commitments, policy tools are available to deliver on these critical pollution reduction goals and secure a cleaner, healthier and more prosperous future for North Carolina. With solutions like those laid out in RTI’s analysis to tackle the most polluting vehicles on the road, and with pivotal power-sector policies under development, North Carolina can make meaningful progress toward improving the quality of life and the health of our communities in the near term and for future generations of North Carolinians. 

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or the North Carolina Coastal Federation. Submissions may be edited for clarity.

Guest commentary

This is the second in a commentary series by the nonprofit Environmental Defense Fund.

The most recent International Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) report made clear that we are running out of time to stymie the worst impacts of climate change. The report demonstrates that harmful climate impacts — such as worsening storms, extreme heat, and rising sea levels that threaten North Carolina’s iconic coast, to name a few — will worsen faster than we have time to adapt. But there is still hope — a small window of time left to rapidly reduce greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions and invest in resilience to avoid the worst impacts of our warming climate.

Thankfully, North Carolina has committed to do its part in combating climate change by reducing climate warming pollution, but a new report from Environmental Defense Fund (EDF) shows a substantial gap between the state’s pledges and policy results. Gov. Roy Cooper will need to take decisive action, or North Carolina risks falling short of reaching its own climate goals. 

Gov. Cooper has taken steps to signal North Carolina’s leadership on climate policy by joining the U.S. Climate Alliance and issuing Executive Order 80 in 2018 and Executive Order 246 in 2022. These orders established important climate targets for the state — committing to reduce emissions across the economy by 40% by 2025 and achieve at least 50% reduction by 2030, respectively. Gov. Cooper’s orders also set targets for zero-emission vehicle sales, and called on the N.C. Department of Environmental Quality to develop a Clean Energy Plan (CEP), which recommended that the state reduce carbon pollution from the electric power sector 70% from 2005 levels by 2030 and achieve net-zero emissions by 2050. In late 2021, these power-sector targets were codified in House Bill 951, which requires the North Carolina Utilities Commission (NCUC) to take all reasonable steps to reduce power sector carbon pollution in line with the CEP recommendations. A process to chart the pathway to achieving that goal is currently underway, and will be adopted at the end of this year.

North Carolina has kicked off a series of important pledges and plans, but the true test of climate leadership is found not in plans and pledges, but in delivering results. Success requires moving from setting targets to deploying policies that drive down pollution. EDF’s new analysis shows that with current policies in place, North Carolina will not reduce emissions at the pace and scale necessary to meet EO 80’s 2025 or EO 246’s 2030 goals. In fact, after 2025, climate pollution levels are projected to remain flat or potentially rise in the long-term. With the policies in place as of May 2021, North Carolina is projected to reduce emissions 27% from 2005 levels by 2025, short of EO 80’s 40% reduction target. Depending on future costs and economic trends, emissions will stay at that level, or potentially increase, bumping the state back to just 16% emissions reductions from 2005 levels by 2030, and leaving a sizable gap to reaching the state’s climate goals. Even if North Carolina achieves the power sector carbon reduction targets set by HB 951 without delays, the state could only achieve a 28% to 38% reduction across the economy by 2030, still well short of EO 246’s 2030 target of cutting emissions in half.

The North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality’s (DEQ) own projections for 2030 shows a comparable gap between projected climate pollution levels and the state’s targets. These two analyses demonstrate that even while there is some uncertainty in future emissions trajectories, it is evident the state is not on track to achieve its targets. 

Coupled with the recent warnings from the IPCC, these reports underscore the urgent need for swift policy action to close the emissions gap. Because greenhouse gas emissions remain in the atmosphere and continue to warm the planet for decades after they are emitted, early cuts in pollution will be essential to averting the most harmful climate impacts. 

To build upon the foundation of the state’s climate goals, Gov. Cooper should swiftly implement policies that curb emissions in line with his Executive Orders. Since clean electricity is key to cleaning up other sectors, like transportation and buildings, implementing a strong Carbon Plan and complementary policies that consistently drive out fossil fuels and expand clean energy will be a “make or break” factor in achieving both power-sector and economy-wide goals. And while EO 246 takes an important step in setting a goal to reach over 1.2 million registered zero-emission vehicles by 2030, North Carolina will need to act on policy solutions that can achieve those targets while simultaneously driving down pollution from existing fleets. Another plan coming out of EO 246, the “Deep Decarbonization Pathways Analysis,” due in January 2023, will also be important for identifying pathways to decarbonize sectors across the economy. Once this new information is made available, the Cooper administration should swiftly turn this plan into concrete action. 

Gov. Cooper has the opportunity over the next three years to use all the tools available to him to place the state firmly on the path to reduce climate pollution by at least 50% by 2030. Doing so would cement the state as a critical leader on climate action in the U.S. and globally; and, more importantly, would result in a cleaner, more climate-safe future for North Carolinians to live, work and play in for generations to come. 

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or the North Carolina Coastal Federation. Submissions may be edited for clarity.

Guest commentary

This is the first in a commentary series by the nonprofit Environmental Defense Fund.

North Carolina’s coastal communities have a front-row seat to many of the most visible signs of climate change. As sea level rise threatens our coastal communities, and as storms and flooding become more frequent and intense across the state, it’s clear climate change isn’t something that’s coming — it’s something that’s already here.

When North Carolina Gov. Roy Cooper signed Executive Order 246 (EO246) on Jan. 7, he sent an important signal that North Carolina is sharpening its focus on addressing climate change and creating a more equitable future. The directives of EO246 align the state’s climate ambitions with what the international scientific consensus tells us is necessary to avoid the worst impacts of climate change, and seeks to better address environmental inequities that have long plagued the state, many of which are exacerbated by climate change.

While these goals are a critical first step for North Carolina to do its part to address the causes and effects of climate change, achieving these targets requires swift, tangible action to secure a healthier and more equitable future for North Carolinians.

Executive Order 246 is not the governor’s first venture into the climate space. Executive Order 80 (EO80), signed in October 2018, was Gov. Cooper’s first order committing the state to important climate pollution goals: reducing greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions 40% from 2005 levels by 2025.

Over three years later, EO246 builds upon the goals of EO80 by committing the state to reducing GHG emissions at least 50% from 2005 levels by 2030, and reaching net-zero GHG emissions as soon as possible, no later than 2050. The most recent order also adds complementary goals of getting 1.25 million zero-emissions vehicles (ZEVs) on the road by 2030, and for 50% of new vehicle sales to be ZEVs by the same year.

Raising the state’s ambition to tackle climate pollution economy-wide, EO246 sets the stage for action to complement the ongoing work to reduce pollution from the state’s electric power sector with the added focus on transportation. This expanded focus makes perfect sense, as the state’s recent GHG inventory affirms that electric power and transportation remain North Carolina’s top two sources of GHGs, together accounting for nearly 70% of the state’s total emissions. The GHG inventory demonstrates that there is much work to do to reduce the state’s current emissions levels in line with the goals for the new executive order. New policies and programs will need to be implemented quickly to accelerate pollution reductions and put the state firmly on a trajectory to reach these important goals. 

In addition to expanding upon emissions goals, EO246 aims to better incorporate environmental justice (EJ) and equity into the administration’s processes and decisions, striving to address disparate environmental and public health impacts among historically marginalized communities. Conversations regarding equity and climate are too often siloed, when in reality these issues deeply intersect, as communities of color, low-income and indigenous communities bear a disproportionate burden of pollution and are often on the frontlines of increasingly harmful climate impacts. EO246 provides a structure to consider these issues in tandem by directing cabinet agencies to consider environmental justice and equity in decision making related to climate change, resilience, and clean energy. 

To operationalize this goal, each agency is directed to designate an “EJ Lead” to spearhead these efforts, and to develop annual public participation plans, laying out how the agency will solicit and incorporate public input, particularly from frontline communities, into agency decisions. Agencies are also instructed to prioritize distribution of state and federal funds to invest in historically underserved communities and to advance health and economic equity. EO246 directs the convening of a third-party facilitated dialogue among state agencies and community leaders to ensure a trusted and holistic dialogue in order to identify opportunities to address the disproportionately harmful outcomes faced by impacted communities.

All of these proposals are an important step toward addressing environmental and public health challenges that will be exacerbated by the increasingly acute impacts of climate change. While these processes are important, the ultimate measure of success for EO246’s equity provisions will be the institutionalization of new behaviors, processes, and funding priorities to benefit impacted communities across all agencies – changing the way our state does business.  

Gov. Cooper has laid the foundation to leave a lasting impact on North Carolina communities through the goals and directives of EO80 and EO246. Now it’s time to make sure North Carolina gets there by listening to the most impacted communities, tracking progress and acknowledging shortcomings, and implementing new solutions to close the gap between where we are and where we are going.

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or the North Carolina Coastal Federation. Submissions may be edited for clarity.

Guest commentary

It may sound too good to be true that one, palm-sized organism could filter water, provide habitat, secure the coastline, and be a delicious, nutritious powerhouse on the plate. But it’s not a gimmick — the oyster does it all.

In North Carolina, a consortium of government, university, business and nonprofit stakeholders are working to restore historically depleted oyster populations in tandem with designing resilient wetlands, building a thriving industry, and preserving an icon of coastal heritage. North Carolina leads the way nationally in its collaborative, multifaceted approach to protecting, restoring, harvesting, and educating people about oysters.

In support of this superhero species, North Carolina Forever is working to spark awareness about oysters and the people behind the nimble and broad effort to bolster them as a catalyst for a resilient future, where people and ecosystems thrive. North Carolina Forever is a bipartisan coalition of North Carolinians — from businesses, agricultural, conservation and environmental organizations — aiming to influence legislation and secure the funding necessary to keep a promise held by the state constitution: “to conserve and protect its lands and waters for the benefit of all its citizenry.”

On Dec. 14, 2021, NC Forever hosted an educational webinar exploring the kaleidoscopic benefits of oysters to our state. This panel discussion entitled, “Oysters! Good for the economy. Great for the environment. Even better for dinner!” was the final installment of a five-webinar series sponsored by State Employees Credit Union and aimed at engaging stakeholders around vital issues facing North Carolina’s lands and waters.

Convened for this aquaculture deep dive were: Erin Fleckenstein of the North Carolina Coastal Federation, Jason Peters of the N.C. Division for Marine Fisheries, Tom
Looney of the Coastal Federation’s Coastal Executive Leadership Council, Rep. Bobby Hanig, R-Currituck, and Sen. Norman Sanderson, R-Pamlico. The webinar was moderated by Coastal Federation Executive Director Todd Miller, who is also a board member with NC Forever.

A coastal scientist with the federation who’s based in Wanchese, Fleckenstein kicked off
the conversation with a review of the comprehensive roadmap driving statewide strategy and action around oyster resiliency: the North Carolina Oyster Blueprint. Fleckenstein introduced the fourth edition of the Blueprint, which sets goals for the next five years, focusing on the four strategies of protecting, restoring, harvesting, and educating about oysters. She highlighted key actions within each strategy, including oyster sanctuaries, living shorelines, oyster shell recycling, cultch planting, and expanded outreach.

Fleckenstein noted that the Blueprint “is one of the only efforts in the country that outlines goals and actions to balance oyster habitat, water quality protection, oyster harvest, and oyster farming.”

Reviewing additional aspects of the Blueprint was Jason Peters, who oversees
shellfish restoration programs for the Division of Marine Fisheries. Peters’ enthusiasm for oysters and his work was clear; he admitted that his fiancé continually reminds him to cut the oyster talk after 5 p.m. He stressed that oysters offer us “so many services
other than just food value,” from environmental to economic. Peters shared recent developments in the oyster sanctuary and cultch planting programs, which he oversees and are further outlined within the Blueprint.

Currently there are around 400 acres protected through the oyster sanctuary program, which creates small, sheltered areas to foster high density oyster populations, spawning larvae and supporting wild species beyond their borders. These sanctuaries also support fish populations and filter vast amounts of water.

In 2020, the General Assembly approved $1.35 million in funding for the Sen. Jean Preston Oyster Sanctuary Network, which currently consists of 15 sanctuaries throughout the Pamlico Sound. The Blueprint sets a goal to build an additional 100 acres of sanctuary in Pamlico Sound by 2025.

The cultch planting program complements the work of these sanctuaries, restoring wild oyster habitat by establishing new reef sites using hard substrates like shell and limestone marl, which are deposited in strategic areas by barges. Peters is excited about the division’s recently received funding for the purchase of a new cultch planting vessel, which will be able to reach previously inaccessible areas in need of oyster habitat restoration, particularly in southern and remote parts of the North Carolina coast.

Peters emphasized that with frequent and increasingly severe storms, the power
of oyster reefs to stabilize sediments is critical to coastal habitat resilience, and
that the state’s interest in protecting these areas through shellfish restoration is
promising.

Key to legislative backing for this restoration and protection work has been the win-win equation of the oyster industry’s economic potential, alongside the ecosystem services they provide. Bringing to bear deep business expertise paired with a passion for aquaculture was Tom Looney, the third panelist to share his experiences. Looney illustrated a convergence of factors leading to the explosive growth of North Carolina aquaculture in recent years — an unlikely turnaround following at least 100 years of depleted oyster resources, and a historically anemic aquaculture industry.

Efforts to restore oyster habitat and population have been met with key developments in oyster breeding to awaken this latent economic engine along our coast. The development and improved availability of triploid oysters for year-round enjoyment (not just months containing the letter “r”), along with increased oyster shell thickness (for easier shucking), and a shorter maturation period, have made oysters more consistently marketable. These improvements have dramatically increased the viability of small-scale aquaculture operations.

Such developments were critical, Looney highlighted, in convincing the legislature that this industry could deliver prolific, solid jobs and bring sustainable economic growth to our coastal communities.

It can be notoriously tricky to bring bipartisan environmental and business interests on board with a shared legislative agenda. The Blueprint meets the moment of economic opportunity with sound guidance on how to restore, protect, and harvest the threatened coastal resources that allow this industry to exist, so that it can grow sustainably.

Sen. Sanderson said the Blueprint “impressed the Senate” with its efficacy and its thoughtfulness, stressing that not many plans come to their desks so ready to implement. The effectiveness of the Blueprint to garner bipartisan support strikes a note of hope as we face layered environmental challenges in North Carolina; not only is it a roadmap for sustained oyster resources, but a potentially useful framework for future
communication and conservation victories as well.

“No one is doing this kind of a program in the way North Carolina is doing it,” stressed
Sen. Sanderson, “and it’s all because of the wisdom, the scientific approach, and all the other facets that have come together to see this succeed. And I absolutely believe that it is going to succeed.”

Oysters have proven themselves to be worthy of investment. Today, there are over 200 oyster growers along the N.C. coast, generating $27 million in economic impact with over 500 new jobs created. The goal of the working group surrounding these oyster efforts is to generate $100 million in business and 1,000 jobs by 2030.

Empowering passionate people who want to join this emerging industry will be key to achieving these goals, but barriers to entry for growers have been significant. Thanks to the advocacy of the oyster experts convened, the legislature has approved $1 million in funding for low-cost loans catered to shellfish startups, via the N.C. Rural Center. Such loans will make starting an aquaculture business much more accessible.

The next phase of support for these entrepreneurs is a plan to line the coast of North Carolina with aquaculture business incubator programs, to foster healthy growth of sustainable businesses — alongside healthy growth of our coastal ecosystems.

This isn’t a venture to rush into, however. Sen. Sanderson emphasized, “You’ve
got to know what you’re getting into … this is hard work.”

Along with shellfish curricula at community colleges, the proposed incubator programs could help shape dreams into savvy business plans, bolstering the likelihood of successful ventures, and the conscious growth of the aquaculture industry.

Rep. Hanig highlighted the “really comprehensive” Senate Bill 648, entitled “Support Shellfish Aquaculture.” The legislation was passed unanimously in 2019, establishing a pilot project for large oyster leases, streamlining the permitting process for aquaculture operations, increasing areas available for aquaculture, and looking at ways to mitigate user conflicts in lease areas. Improved regulatory processes, in tandem with increased educational opportunities and accessible loans, aim to buoy new N.C. aquaculture ventures.

Consumers are critical to the longevity of any industry; all panelists stressed the importance of education and outreach for the continued enjoyment of our state’s treasured bivalves. Tom Looney highlighted that oyster consumption is doubling every five years; intentional communication strategies can ensure that those consumer cravings are connected with local resources.

Looney applauded The Oyster Trail — a connective platform with over 50 members
and a user-friendly app that links customers to oyster farms, restaurants, markets, and educational tours. Beyond this tool, N.C. oyster resources can now be found in state welcome centers, aquariums, and coastal museums.

“Many people weren’t even aware we had an oyster industry,” remarked Looney. “Today, we’re driving awareness in a big way.”

In addition to following The Oyster Trail throughout the state, citizens can engage in service to fortify our coastal ecosystems. The Coastal Federation offers opportunities for volunteers to plant native vegetation, recycle oyster shells, install rain gardens, clean up marine debris, and assist with outreach programs.

Not only does Erin Fleckenstein spend her working hours fighting for our coastline through strategy and science, she also spends time helping to restore wetland habitats. Fleckenstein explained that, if we can more effectively divert and filter water through the landscape— effectively removing pollutants before it hits the coast— we can help oysters do their jobs and thrive in greater numbers.

“It’s all coming back to water quality,” Fleckenstein maintained, “making sure the waters of our sound are supporting these restoration efforts.”

Rep. Hanig emphasized that the multi-layered benefits and increased awareness of oysters “are just huge for us here, especially in eastern North Carolina,” where some of the state’s most economically and geographically vulnerable communities are located.

While the aquaculture industry’s growth is a beacon of hope in North Carolina, there are significant challenges to navigate. Presently, the coronavirus pandemic and its pervasive disruptions present hurdles to oyster stakeholders, from the coast to the kitchen.

Hanig called attention to House Bill 916, which appropriated $17 million in meat and seafood processing grants, to support businesses in the creation of new programs for resiliency in the face of COVID-19.

Looking forward, Tom Looney underscored the growing challenges presented by erosion, sea level rise, and climate change. These ecological crises require unconventional partnerships working together for our shared natural resources,
taking bold action on behalf of NC’s intertwined communities and ecosystems.

Such unconventional, bold partnerships are central to North Carolina Forever’s
agenda to preserve our state’s natural resources.

In the face of these complex challenges, it is wise to follow the lead of the oyster, which holds the knowledge to restore our waters and support its neighbors — if only we can protect and bolster the wild spaces in which they thrive. In times like these, we have much to learn from the oyster.

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or the North Carolina Coastal Federation. Submissions may be edited for clarity.

The holiday season has passed and it’s a good bet that if you’re reading this you received some new piece of fishing gear.

I’m sure that you are looking forward to putting it to good use this year and it’s going to help you catch plenty of fish. But before we look at getting new gear ready to go, let’s talk a bit about reviving old gear and making sure it’s ready to use when you pull it out of the closet this spring.

We’re going to do some things to make our fishing tackle and other gear clean and safe to put away. That way, next time we go, our stuff will work as it should and there will be no unpleasant surprises.

Let’s start with the tools I like to use. First thing you will need is a small screwdriver. I got a set of precision screwdrivers from a store that sells freight in the harbor. It has multiple handles and dozens of screwdriver heads of different styles and sizes.

You will need reel oil. There are multiple products out there and they all work. The ones that are specifically for reels will have a small, blunt needle head at the top of the bottle. This allows it to be squirted into small openings. I recently have been using a kind manufactured by a brand well known for making lubricants for the racing world.

I like to have auxiliary lighting on my tabletop. If you wear reading glasses, have them handy. A magnifying lens would not be a terrible idea, nor would a long-handled magnet. You’re also going to want some high-quality, disposable towels that don’t shed fibers. The blue shop towels are perfect.

We’ll start with our reels. Since most of the fishing I do is with spinning reels, that is what I am going to talk about. They take a lot of abuse in saltwater, particularly so if you fish the surf. It’s a good idea to clean them up frequently. I also like to make sure the gears are cleaned and lubed so they operate smoothly. This has the added benefit of pushing sand and salt deposits away from the moving parts and keep them working. Rinse them clean and dry well.

Find the screwdriver head that works for your reel. We are looking to match up the head with the screws on the side wall of the reel. There should be at least three of them. Some newer reels also have a piece on the back of the reel that closes the gap between the two side plates and that needs to be removed first. Put the reel on a cleared off surface of a table in a well-lit environment. Carefully remove the screw holding on the rear protection piece. It will come out easily and want to jump up and fly away. Be careful. The plate will most likely not pull straight away, it may take some persuading. Wiggle it gently until it does. Place these aside.

You may notice at this point an extra hole in the rear of the reel body. Some reels have these and it offers access to the inside of the reel. You may want to see if you can put reel oil directly into this port. If one of these is not available on your reel you will need to loosen the side plate screws. Notice I said loosen. Do not remove. Time was, I could take a spinning reel apart and put it back together easily. The last couple times I did so, the reels did not want to be put back together. The tolerances in the modern reels are quite tight and there’s not a lot of room.

Now, I merely loosen the side plate screws, just enough so the needle of the reel oil bottle can squirt inside. Maybe three turns of the screw. Do not turn the reel handle while the side plate is loose. Squirt the oil in there and easily tighten the screws back into place. Slowly turn the handle. It may feel the same at first but the lube will work its way in and you will begin to feel a difference in how smooth it feels. Remove the spool by loosening the drag knob. Squirt some lube in the spaces between the shaft and the housing. Replace the spool. Squirt a little into the handle. Any squeaks will vanish. Squirt a little of the reel oil onto the outside and take a shop towel and wipe off the whole surface. Your reel should turn easily if it didn’t before and it will shine and the light coating of oil on the outside will act as a protectant.

Cleaning up your rods is a little simpler. Take a shop towel and get a little water on it and wipe the rod starting with the grips. Then do the blank and finally do the guides. Be on the lookout for nicks in the cork of the grips, loose windings on the guide wraps, and especially look for guides that have broken rings or loose feet. The new, super light rod guides have metal rings with silicon carbide inserts that are less inclined to be grooved by braided lines and add almost no weight to the rod.

A common problem is that the metal rings that hold the inserts in place will crack and the insert will fall out. If this happens to you there are a couple things you can do. First is to remove the entire guide and replace it. If you’ve never done this before, I will not attempt to describe it here. You may want to simply take it to a local rod repair shop. If you want to tackle it, there are bunches of videos on the internet describing how to do it.

Another thing you could try is a quick repair that I have done a couple times that so far has been holding up for me. Get some ultraviolet cure resin. I have the kind I use for fly tying. Use super glue to put the silicon carbide insert inside the ring. When that dries, put the UV resin over the cracked area and hit it with the light. Put a couple coats on there. I have done it with two different guides and the repairs have lasted a couple seasons. But who knows how much longer it will stay. The better option is to replace the guide entirely but this works in a pinch.

Check your line. If it’s monofilament and it’s starting to look a little gray and stays looped when you pull it off the spool. Replace the whole thing. With braided line, if the front of the line is looking thin and frayed, pull off a couple long casts worth. I will attach a new section of line using a double uni knot.

If you do these simple tasks now, your equipment will be ready to go when you get it out for your first trips of the spring. There’s nothing more disappointing than that first trip of the year and your reel is grinding or the handle won’t turn or the guide falls off. Never mind that you hook into that first big fish of the year and it breaks off because you’re still using old line!

With the 40^th anniversary looming for the North Carolina Coastal Federation, I considered the question, “Why have I been on the board of the federation all these years?”

The Carolina coast has a special place in my heart, full of visits with family and friends, time spent surf fishing, exploring wondrous places, listening to songs and stories, eating the best seafood, and serving on the federation board.

While I grew up in Ohio and my family visited the Outer Banks for a few days when I was young, this state — and the coast in particular — is now my home. My wife, Nancy Dole, and I moved to Chapel Hill when I entered law school and I worked for several conservation groups.

Over my legal career, most of my clients have been environmental and community groups across the state so the federation was a natural fit when it got started in 1982. Only the federation’s executive director, Todd Miller, has been with the organization longer than I have. But there is no comparison, I am an enthusiastic volunteer while Todd has provided a vision, done the hard work of starting and sustaining an essential organization to protect our coasts, and shouldered the day-to-day responsibility for the organization. It’s his passion, leadership and focus on the simple messages that have made the federation what it is today, a respected and guiding force for the protection and restoration of our coast.

In the 1980s, the entire coast was under threat from peat mining, oil refineries, overdevelopment, jetties, landfills, and the destruction of wetlands. Under Todd’s leadership, many people came together and created the federation. From our first office in Todd’s spare bedroom, we have grown to 30-plus staff working in three offices along the coast. Our top-notch scientists, policy advocates, educators, and administrators are involved in a vast array of projects, all tied together to fulfill our mission.

Nationally, the federation is revered as an example of how a committed, focused group can make major, real-word changes to ecosystems, public health, and economies. We have done this by our dedication to the coast, based on good science, education at all levels, sound public policy, and legal action if there is no other option.

As I see it, the federation’s mission can be summed up in four simple messages.

First and foremost “NO WETLANDS, NO SEAFOOD” is one of our guiding principles; we believe coastal North Carolina is more than just oceanfront property with uncluttered beaches and hot sand. It is a dynamic ecological ecosystem based on clean water, tides, marshes and wetlands, rivers, inlets, sounds, and the ocean. It provides habitat for aquatic life, a living classroom, and the continuing livelihood for generations of families.

The decades-long focus of the federation’s message has centered on OYSTERS. Like so much life on the coast, oysters depend on clean water to thrive. The oyster was once prevalent in our waters but were depleted from overproduction and pollution. Oyster reefs provide habitat for fish and seafood, and as filter feeders, oysters help clean the water around them. Oysters have provided livelihoods and sustenance to folks for centuries.        

Years ago, I was out on Stump Sound helping Bill Rice tend his family’s oyster gardens, bottomlands obtained from King George III in pre-Revolutionary times, converted to oyster leases in the 1930s. Stopping to take a lunch break on a narrow tidal island, Bill asked me to look down at the ground. It was covered with pottery shards, clay pieces with simple designs, mixed in with the sand with oyster shells. We laughed when Bill told me the Native people came to the sound to eat oysters and drink their beer, just like so many of us do today. I later followed up with historical anthropologists at the University of North Carolina and that’s exactly what happened. Hundreds of years ago, the men and older boys of the Pee Dee tribe would walk in the autumn from Town Creek in the center of North Carolina to Stump Sound, carrying corn mash in clay pots. The mash fermented as they walked and happy times ensued while oysters were eaten.

The heritage of oysters prevails today. Families up and down the coast make their living harvesting wild oysters. New oyster reefs have been created at Morris Landing in the Stump Sound to continue the tradition there. At Harkers Island, Ryan Bethea, a federation board member, is owner of one of the mariculture operations, an example of using new techniques to make a living off the sounds’ bounty and producing delicious oysters for many to enjoy.

The federation’s Northeast office, under the direction of its regional manager, Erin Fleckenstein, has recreated oyster reefs in Pamlico Sound using shells collected from restaurants around the state. The project uses state and federal dollars to collect and then offload the shells, giving jobs to the fishing community off-season.

Under the leadership of retired businessman and federation board member Tom Looney, the federation has helped North Carolina Sea Grant develop the North Carolina Oyster Trail, connecting oyster growers, markets, seafood restaurants, and oyster lovers (the “slurpers”). Oysters have become a tourism draw as well as an economic boon for the coastal economy. And returning to the early discussion, oysters are a biological indicator for clean water and beneficial habitat that all can enjoy.

Because of the positive impacts of a viable oyster economy, oyster restoration is a nonpartisan issue. Over the years, lobbyists for the federation, Jim Kennedy, Jim Stephenson and Rob Lamme, worked across both sides of the aisle, basing our arguments on economics, good science, and providing the legislators with a tasty oyster roast. There’s nothing like to ensure they understand the importance of this industry and the need to protect it. It helps to have Rep. Pricey Harrison, Democrat from Guilford County and former federation vice president, and Rep. Pat McElraft, Republican from Carteret County, in the North Carolina General Assembly to champion clean water bills and funding for oyster restoration.

Coastal ecology and coastal economy are two ways to look at the same thing, each supporting the other: No Wetlands, No Seafood.

The second message has become almost a cliché, but “THINK GLOBALLY, ACT LOCALLY” is a fundamental part of the federation’s mission. Acting locally includes backyard activism, major projects, and everything between, some with global impacts.

One of the earliest battles fought by the federation was the proposed mining of 120,000 acres of pocosin wetlands on the Albemarle-Pamlico Peninsula using a half billion dollars in federal subsidies. The scheme was to drain the tracts, mine the peat, dry it out, and convert it to methane as a fuel source. The freshwater drainage alone would have had drastic impacts on the saline sounds and fish life, but when the high levels of mercury in the peat was included, the long-term result would have been catastrophic. The federation and the local fishing community joined forces to stop the project. The company did not get their permits and eventually through a partnership between federal agencies, national conservation groups, and private foundations, most of the mining tracts now form the Alligator River as well as the Pungo Lake National Wildlife Refuges.

Today, the federation’s Northeast office, with guidance from Mac Gibbs, retired extension agent and federation board member, works with farming interests to manage drainage from large farming tracts near Lake Mattamuskeet. This eliminates a significant amount of runoff into wetlands and shellfish habitat and reduces the need for major drain pumps, saving the farmers considerable money each year on electricity.

Similarly, the federation obtained the 6,000-acre North River Farm in Down East Carteret County with funding from the North Carolina Clean Water Management Trust Fund (CWMTF) in partnership with John Preyer and George Howard of Restoration Systems. Our long-term goal is to convert the farm fields back to wetlands and forests. This project is one of the largest in the eastern United States and has been closely monitored by scientists and government agencies to determine if changes in drainage patterns on a grand scale can reopen shellfish waters in the receiving waters. So far, the restoration operations are working as the land reverts to a more natural state. The restored wetlands have also proven to be a good way to sequester carbon to help with climate warming. Another side benefit is the more than 250 bird species now found on the site and thanks to the persistence of John Fussell, who wrote the book on coastal Carolina birds, North River Farm is now part of the North Carolina Birding Trail.

Acting locally also has been the focus of several of the federation’s longstanding projects. Low impact development (LID), promoted by Lauren Kolodij, the federation’s deputy director, uses simple building practices, such as wetland gardens and vegetated buffer zones, to reduce polluted runoff into streams, wetlands, the sound, and the ocean. Builder and developers have been trained in the LID techniques, and some have become fervent advocates of the practices. Growing this awareness and practices is key to preserving our waters.

Living shorelines, developed and promoted by federation coastal scientists Lexia Weaver and Tracy Skrabal, use natural elements to protect shorelines from erosion. As an environmentally sensitive and cost-effective alternative to bulkheads, living shorelines provide a buffer of marsh grasses and oyster beds as can be seen behind the Crystal Coast Convention Center in Carteret County.

These projects are supported by the federation’s educational and volunteer efforts. Taking students and teachers out of the classroom, getting them wet and muddy, planting marsh grasses and hauling oyster sacks, demonstrates how local actions can solve real problems. Several years ago, I worked with fifth graders at the White Oak Elementary School to build a rain garden and the kids learned a lot by working directly on the project. At a follow-up visit, the students showed off their “Rain Gardens Rock!” T-shirts.

How does this all add to thinking globally? The environmental crisis over the next 40 years on our coast will be CLIMATE CHANGE. It will result in sea level rise, shifting barrier islands, fiercer and more frequent storms, and longer droughts. We are already seeing fair weather flooding in Wilmington and increased erosion of barrier islands. Most of the local governments are revising their policies to make their communities more resilient. The federation is taking the lead in some of these activities, but we will have to do more and more in the future to meet this challenge.

Climate change and overdevelopment will also impact those less able to bear the economic burden. Dirty air from industrial operations and hog farms, runoff from mining operations and urban areas, and flooding from sea level rise necessitates the federation’s involvement in ENVIRONMENTAL JUSTICE. All North Carolinians should have clean air and clean water. 

Veronica Carter, federation board member and member of the Leland Town Council, sits on the North Carolina Environmental Justice and Equity Board. She’ll tell you how crucial it is for diverse voices to be heard as we develop policies for our coast. There is a clear disparity in income levels across the coast; many Black and Hispanic families have limited access to health care and a healthy environment. Drinking water wells are often contaminated. Waters polluted with arsenic, mercury, or per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS, make fish unsafe to eat and many coastal families rely on subsistence fishing for food.

Simply put, the common good is defined by each of our impacts on the environment, from water and air to wetlands and shorelines. Local actions add up, but we need to keep in mind how those actions impact our coast, all of its people, and our future world.

The third simple message is one of PROFESSIONALISM. The federation staff is dedicated to be the best they can be as individuals and to support each other to make our organization the best it can be. Over the years, we have carefully hired highly exemplary folks who have brought a wide variety of talents and skills to the federation, and through example and training, have made professionalism the corporate norm.

Members of the board take pride in our staff and how they carry out our mission. We have always strived to have an active board with a diversity of talents and interests to invest in our programs and provide support for the staff. We have been fortunate to have had impressive leadership from our board presidents: Don Ensley, Lena Ritter, Ann Carter, Melvin Shepard, Dick Bierly, and Joe Ramus.

One of the federation’s strengths has been its ability to work with partners, local communities, other environmental and civic organizations, and governments at all levels. Our staff is respected by our partners because of their dedication, knowledge, and clear vision.

Many of the major projects undertaken by the federation have been in partnership with government agencies. The CWMTF provided funds for many of our land purchases and restoration projects. For example, the acquisition of Jones and Huggins islands by the federation with CWMTF dollars, and subsequent inclusion of the islands into Hammocks Beach State Park, has led to joint educational activities between the federation and the park that have levered both of our public programs.

The Bird Island Coastal Reserve in Brunswick County, overseen by the North Carolina Division of Coastal Management, would not have happened without a strong local presence, support by the federation, and public and private funding. One of the remaining undeveloped barrier islands, Bird Island, provides habitat and nesting areas for rare species turtles, birds, and plants.

Recently, in establishing the new Center for Coastal Protection and Restoration, the federation worked closely with the Navy, Carteret County, North Carolina Department of Cultural Resources, and the state legislature to acquire the necessary land on the Bogue Sound (see more about this below).

We’ve never been afraid to bring legal action if that is the only way to resolve an issue, but if there is a better way of finding a solution, that’s the preferred route. Our relationship with the Southern Environmental Law Center, one of the nation’s premier public interest legal teams, has proved itself repeatedly. Without SELC’s resources and talent, much of the coast would be quite different, major tracts of land would have been drained and mined, habitat forever lost, and most shellfish areas permanently closed.

By extension, the staff and board members have had the help of an extensive crew of volunteers as demonstrated by the awardees at the annual Pelican Awards that recognizes volunteers and organizations. Often the volunteers simply go about their jobs of helping out, not for recognition, just because something needs to be done. For years, longtime board member Lewis Piner put in a huge number of hours to enlist scores of volunteers to staff the federation booth at the North Carolina State Fair.

The federation’s programs are enhanced by CoastalReview.org, our daily news service providing a wide range of articles, from current happenings in the legislature, historic fishing communities, seafood recipes, federation projects, and highlighting the wide variety of folks who make up the federation and the coastal community. 

In keeping with the message of professionalism, the federation has made good fiscal management one of its priorities; it is after all other people’s money that allows us to carry out our work. Raising funds and increasing membership depends on using money wisely on projects that have positive impacts on the coastal environment and community.

Sally Steele, the federation’s longtime development director, now retired, made it a point to say there are few limits to an organization that is dedicated to its mission. She pushed the rest of us to think beyond a small staff in a small office to an organization with multimillion dollar annual budgets and 30-plus staff. When a project shows demonstrable impacts with broad application, funds become available.

I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the generous support of the Stanback family and the Z. Smith Reynolds Foundation over the years, and all the other foundations and individuals who have given us the funds we needed to carry out our mission. Likewise, past board member Olivia Holding and current board member Charles Meeker have pulled together successful statewide capital campaigns to expand our offices and increased our ability to hire staff.

The next step in the federation’s growth is the Center for Coastal Protection and Restoration, a public resource for coastal education and events on Bogue Sound. It will be the home if the federation’s future headquarters and be a showcase for sustainable design and LID practices.

It is not an easy lift to increase budgets and membership over 40 years, but it’s been possible with our dedicated staff, supportive board, and enthusiastic volunteers, and strong financial supporters.

The last of the simple messages is that each one of us should strive to be a part of the COASTAL COHORT. In their “King Mackerel and the Blues are Running” lyrics, the Coastal Cohorts — Bland Simpson, Don Dixon and Jim Wann — share their love of the coast and the stories that connect them to it. They want us to enjoy the fishing, the dancing, the beaches, the joys and mysteries, and the soundside life that makes up coastal North Carolina.

My favorite experiences on the coast, beyond spending time with family, come in listening to the storytellers and song writers. Tom Earnhardt tells of his explorations on the coast and his open-eyed wonder when the first flock of whistling swans land. Connie Mason sings the old songs, including one of my personal favorites, the “Booze Yacht,” evoking times gone by and the traditions we still retain. The late James Barry Gaskill of Ocracoke, with his “Hoi Toider” brogue, brought tears to my eyes with laughter with his story of taking a cooler of oysters to Las Vegas so he and his coastal buddies would have something good to eat. Jan DeBlieu, one-time federation staff in the Northeast, wrote poignantly of her family’s tragedy and the healing she found on the Outer Banks.

We all have different stories to tell about what the coast means to us. The mission of the federation, as expressed through its simple messages, is to bring the awareness of the coast, its beauty, its ecosystems and its economies, to everyone who will listen.

Because of my 40 years of support for the federation, indulge me and take my advice – enjoy the coast, catch a bluefish, watch the sun rise over the ocean, paddle a kayak to a barrier island, listen to the local stores, take a stand, get educated, make a difference, and become a COASTAL COHORT for life.

Every October, I begin to get asked by members of my family, “What do you want for Christmas?”

The answer I give is always noncommittal, and they always respond with something along the lines of how they can’t get me anything if they don’t know what I want. I usually end up with gift cards to fishing and marine outfitters. This year I have decided to make a definitive list.

I’d like to catch a tarpon on a fly rod. Now some people might say that’s not really that big of a deal. Folks do it all the time. Just travel to Florida at the right time of year and hire a good guide. The fish are plentiful and the guys who know what they are doing will put you in front of them. I am even friends with a few. I have a kicker to this gift request however, I want to do it in North Carolina.

They do indeed travel to our waters in the summer. Some lucky people even get to catch them. This has not been the case for me. I am not one to sit in a boat on a hot summer day with bait lines out and wait for a big fish to swim by, which is indeed how most tarpon around here have traditionally been caught.

A few lucky anglers have gotten one by casting artificial lures — that is a short list. Even fewer have tied into them on fly rod. Needless to say, a lot of sweat and toil went into those captures. It’s not something that happens by accident. Time and effort need to be expended to be in the right place at the right time.

Most people who hook a tarpon by accident aren’t going to land it anyway because they are bigger and more powerful than any fish you’ll find inshore. If you don’t come prepared for them, they’ll bust you off, throw your hook or otherwise find a way to escape. Honestly, that is what happens many times to those who ARE prepared to catch one. I’m hoping to add my name to those short lists of those who have prevailed in North Carolina, if not by this summer, then hopefully before too long.

I’d like to catch a speckled trout over 10 pounds. Many anglers around here specialize in getting the big girls. A guy I met once swore up and down that there is a world record-sized trout in North Carolina — 17 pounds, 7 ounces. I have three over 6 pounds — one over 7 — and each one not far from my home in Carteret County. One was in a spot that you have probably driven past in your car many times. Each one was a special, and two of the three were released with care. The 10-pounder, however, would be like a myth come to life. It would go into the list with the birth of my child as a most significant day.

The only way to do it is to just keep trying. Get out there with fishing tackle rigged appropriately, with lures they will find appealing, and in spots they frequent.

I’d like to stumble across a school of fish so big that I can’t see the edges. To have them crashing lures and flies on every cast, that would be an amazing experience. Just knowing that there are that many fish swimming together and living on.

A situation such as this promises more than just an exciting day at that time, but the numbers of fish involved holds the promise of more good days to come. Because it is impossible to catch them all and there are more and more. The real gift of course would be to have a day like that and have my fishing companion and myself to be the only ones there and know that sometime in the future it might happen again.

I’d like to get inside the brain of a big fish. To know, definitively, what she is thinking at any given time. To see what she sees. To hear all the sounds that exist underwater in a way only she can.

To do this would give me a true understanding of how my offerings are perceived, how fish really experience their world. Then I will know the best places to fish, how to tell that certain spot, in the midst of all the other spots, that will be where the big fish feed and when. How it feels when a fish gets into that sweet spot in the current where it can track down food easily and not expend more energy than it takes in. What it sounds like when a lure or bait hits the water nearby, and does that sound seem attractive or threatening. I could learn the best time to feed, to rest, to hide, to run/swim away from predators.

We as anglers can read articles, books, and scientific data all we want, but that will only give us a cursory knowledge of that world. It’s better to be out there as close as we can get to their world. The more we can go fishing, the more fish we will catch. That works as a pure function of numbers of trips taken — a guy who fishes everyday will catch fish merely by the action of going — but also a function of the point that being out in that world helps us to understand it better. Only by experiencing something, can we really ever hope to comprehend.

Some people fish their whole lives and never begin to experience any sort of understanding of what is happening in the water around them. They don’t seem to “feel” what is happening. Some people are blessed and they just get it. Those are the ones who catch fish when others round them may not. This is “fishiness.” The only way to get it is to go.

So, I guess my real Christmas list topper is the gift of more fishing trips. Because only with more fishing, can we hope to get closer to the mindset of that fish we all pursue and long to know better.

By the way, an actual real Christmas gift suggestion for any fisherperson is a multi-tool with the pliers that can snap open with one hand and a holster that can be worn on a belt. I never go fishing without one and the rare times I forget it I feel woefully unprepared. Even somebody who already has one will not be disappointed with a new one.

This column is to introduce a series of special reports by Catherine Kozak, who attended the COP26 climate conference held earlier this month.

GLASGOW, Scotland — At a global event the size of the 26^th United Nations Climate Change Conference of the Parties, or COP26, North Carolina was barely a blip.

Numerous people, even those from Western Europe and (gasp!) England, seemed to know little about our state, including the location of our famously angled Outer Banks coastline.

“It’s where the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse is,” I said confidently. 

“Ummmm.”

“It’s where the English first attempted to colonize America.”

Polite smiles. “Oh?”

“It’s where the Wright brothers flew at Kitty Hawk.”

“Ahhh!”

Of course, how much do we Americans know about the coasts of other nations, or even our own country? And yes, there were some Americans I spoke with at the conference who had no idea where the Outer Banks, and even North Carolina, were located.

During the Oct. 31-Nov. 12 summit, which opened ceremoniously on Nov. 3 with speeches from President Joe Biden and other world leaders, North Carolina was merely part of the U.S that shares the alarming global impacts from a changing climate: rising and warming seas, hotter summers, intensifying rain and wind during storms.

As is the case in the rest of the world, wildfires, flooding and drought are likely part of North Carolina’s tomorrow because they’re part of North Carolina’s today and yesterday. It’s just a matter of timing and degrees.

Every state, every region, every nation, has different levels of threat, but judging from the breadth of attendees at the conference, every corner of the world feels under threat, whether current or looming. 

And on the periphery, most of the world has been stressed by the prolonged pandemic, divisive politics and an uneven economy. In a word, that is the value of such global events: connection. Traveling is humbling and enlightening at the same time, but more importantly, it breaks us out of the enclosed room of our lives.

Even in the other world-ness of a sprawling mini-city of the COP, participants, observers, journalists were joined in a collective, sprinting from hub to hub for conferences, presentations and meetings, in several different “zones,” which often added up to many city blocks of distance. One man shared that another participant had told him that he had walked 30,000 steps the previous day, which adds up to about 15 miles.

Big screens in the Action Zone — where a large blue Earth hovered over an expansive gathering area filled with tables and chairs and lined with broadcast areas and small meeting rooms — displayed interviews taking part on a stage. 

On Monday, Nov. 8., the room was abuzz about former President Barack Obama’s visit, which took place in another area where people had lined up to grab limited seats to watch in person. International press coverage of Obama’s speech was glowing, making our former president the big hit of the summit. Two days earlier, more than 100,000 marchers filled the streets in Glasgow, led by climate activist Greta Thunberg and other young people, to demand substantial and urgent action on climate change.

The second week concentrated on the meat and potatoes of the negotiations, which focused on finding consensus among global participants with disparate wealth, resources, populations, vulnerability, impacts and emissions contributions. Indigenous members of tiny island nations worked shoulder to shoulder with powerful representatives of wealthy nations into the night hours seeking solutions.

During the week, U.S. Climate Envoy John Kerry could be seen dashing down long hallways, trailed by reporters. Kerry was also an active negotiator at the 2015 COP21 in Paris, when he was Obama’s secretary of state. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, several Congress members and 13 cabinet secretaries also showed up — Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg attended remotely — with some of their images flashing spectrally on various screens throughout the conference. 

On Nov. 13, after days of intense negotiations, an agreement was announced. Hammered out by diplomats representing about 200 nations, the parties pledged to return next year to strengthen limits on greenhouse gas emissions and to encourage richer nations to double funds to help developing countries cope with the impacts of climate change.

It was an imperfect conclusion to the ambitious two-week gathering that hosted about 30,000 attendees from all over the world, including North Carolina scientists from Duke University and RTI International, among others.

In Glasgow, Biden had characterized the meeting as the world’s “last chance” to save the planet from the impacts of climate change. World leaders at the start had set a goal to reduce emissions enough to cap global temperatures increases at 2.7 degrees Fahrenheit, or 1.5 Celsius, compared with preindustrial levels.

Biden pledged to cut U.S. carbon emissions in half by 2030, reaching net zero emissions by 2050.

But even with the nations’ new pledges and targets to reduce fossil-fuel emissions and limit deforestation, warming is projected to be 2.1 degrees Celsius, or 3.78 degrees Fahrenheit, by 2100, according to research group Climate Action Tracker. 

At the U.S. pavilion at the conference, a big interactive map provided by Climate Central, a scientific data research group invited attendees to enter their hometown location to see the impact of sea level rise under different scenarios. Nags Head, where I live, was shockingly blue under the higher emission projection.

Despite falling short of the initial goal, the summit harnessed unanimity between global leaders that more must be done to prevent climate disaster. And compared with Paris’ significant, but at times aspirational, climate pledges, the Scotland agreement included more realistic rules meant to provide more transparency and accountability in tracking countries’ actions.

“It’s meek, it’s weak and the 1.5 Celsius goal is only just alive, but a signal has been sent that the era of coal is ending,” said Jennifer Morgan, executive director of Greenpeace International, described the climate deal to the New York Times Nov. 13. “And that matters.”

US, global commitments

The following actions were announced during the summit:

• The Biden administration pledged carbon-pollution free electricity production by 2035 and to permit 25 gigabytes of renewable energy on public lands by 2025.

• The U.S. Department of the Interior committed to develop offshore wind projects, with a goal to deploy 30 gigawatts of offshore wind energy by 2030.

• The U.S. State Department announced that an agreement with the European Union and partners had been launched to reduce global methane emissions. The Global Methane Pledge represents more than 100 countries and 70% of the global economy as well as about half of the human-produced methane emissions.

• COP26 negotiators also created new trade standards under Article 6, a provision of the 2015 agreement from the Paris climate conference that deals with carbon credits. The updated standard includes more transparency on selling and trading of carbon offsets.

• About 130 countries collectively promised billions of dollars to stop deforestation by 2030, and dozens of nations pledged to phase out coal power and sales of vehicles that use gasoline.

• For the first time, the COP agreement included a vow to “phase down” coal power and government subsidies for oil and gas.

• The U.S. joined the COP26 High-Level Panel for a Sustainable Ocean Economy, or “Ocean Panel,” a multinational initiative focused on harnessing the power of the ocean to reduce emissions, provide jobs and food security, improve climate resilience and sustain biological diversity, according to a U.S. State Department press release.

After submitting to Coastal Review last month an article on coyote and foxes, I had an almost out-of-body experience.

For the first time in my more than 40 years as a professional wildlife photographer, I actually witnessed a gray fox climb up and back down a tree.

I was so in awe at the time that I forgot I had a camera in my hands and neglected to take a photo of the animal climbing up the tree, but I regained my composure and captured a photo of him climbing back down – very cool!

In the first installment, we looked at the life history of foxes and coyotes in North Carolina. In this second installment, we will look at the best ways to avoid conflicts while coexisting with these wild canids now found in every corner of the state. We also will review the laws regulating hunting and trapping, and what to do if animals cause problems, or property damage.

As construction of new residential developments continue at a high rate, fox sightings are becoming increasingly common across the state, especially with the abundance of food and den sites available to foxes in suburban environments.

While the animals can be fascinating to watch, many people fear these foxes may have rabies. Seeing one, even during the day, does not necessarily mean the fox is sick. During specific times of the year, it is not unusual to see foxes during the daytime and in urban settings.

Foxes are responding to the lack of threats posed by people and the abundance of food in these areas. If an animal shows signs of rabies, including being aggressive, stumbling, or the classic foaming at the mouth, it is time to call your local animal control officer.

Chris Turner, North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission District 1 Wildlife biologist, explained in an interview that coexisting with foxes and coyotes is an important part of living anywhere in North Carolina but it certainly plays a big role in heavily developed coastal beach communities.

“The first step to coexisting with wildlife is educating ourselves about fox and coyote behavior and making our neighbors aware that seeing foxes and coyotes is generally part of life here,” Turner said.

Turner said to always respect wildlife and keep a safe distance of at least 50 yards or more when possible. “During the late spring and summer months, it is not unusual to have foxes denning with kits in close proximity to yards or even underneath outdoor buildings. Do not approach foxes or known fox dens, keep pets away, and never feed foxes in your yard,” Turner said.

Even if the young animal appears to be alone, they are not necessarily abandoned because many animals do not stay with their young and only return to frequently feed them.

“If you or a pet try to approach a den, the female fox may act defensively to protect her kits,” Turner said, adding that foxes are wildlife and do not want to be around people but will tolerate people if food sources are present or a den site is nearby.

“While it is in a fox’s nature to be curious, and it may even appear to be bold sometimes, foxes are not normally aggressive and unprovoked attacks on people, including children, are very rare,” he said, but, like other wildlife, foxes will become habituated if people feed them, either purposely with food or table scraps, or inadvertently, such as with garbage, bird feeders, or outdoor pet food.

“Everyone should do their part to coexist with foxes and other wildlife by preventing conflicts. The most important preventative tool is identifying attractive food sources and removing them. Never feed foxes or coyotes or allow them to be fed,” Turner added.

If you see a fox several times around your home or neighborhood, this is a sign that you and your neighbors should take steps to prevent conflicts with them and other wildlife.

This can be done by putting in place the following steps outlined on the Wildlife Resources Commission website:

• Do not approach or pet a fox or coyote. Enjoy the experience from a respectful distance using binoculars, or a telephoto lens on your camera.
• Do not feed foxes, coyotes other any other wild animals, including feral cats. Foxes and coyotes will lose their fear of people. Feeding a fox, or coyote sends a signal to the animal that it is OK to get close to people. Once they get used to being around people, they may become less hesitant and may become aggressive.
• Make sure the covers of your trash cans have a tight fit. Take the trash out the morning your trash is collected, not the night before. Coyotes and other wildlife including raccoons and opossums will scavenge trash that is easy to get their paws on — an easy meal.
• Only feed your pets inside, or remove food when your pet is finished eating outside, including any leftover scraps. Foxes and other wildlife are attracted to pet food left outdoors.
• Make sure any openings leading to under your shed, porch, deck or house are properly sealed. Foxes and coyotes may use these spaces to take a nap or build their den.
• Remove any fallen fruit tree and branches from around your home.
• Use bird feeders that keep seed off the ground. Foxes and coyotes are attracted to small animals congregating on the ground as a potential snack. If you see foxes on a regular basis, remove any bird feeders.
• Keep your pets inside. Dogs and cats can disturb dens and may cause a protective mother fox to become aggressive toward your pet. There is also a strong possibility that a little pup could become a snack for a hungry coyote. Coyotes can easily jump over 6-foot fencing to get to your pets, so don’t think Fido is necessarily safe behind a wooden fence.
• Make sure you have fox-proof fencing around your home, chicken coop or rabbit pen to protect unsupervised domestic animals. An electric fence will work well to protect chickens and rabbits and can be found at your local home improvement store.
• Try to make noise near a den site, such as playing a radio loudly. It is possible that the constant noise will convince the fox to move her den to another area. Keep shining a flashlight at the entrance of a known den, and leaving it there may also tell mom it is time to relocate.
• Yell, jump up and down, wave your arms, bang pots and pans or anything else available to make noise to convince the foxes and coyotes to go elsewhere. This will also remind them that it may not be so safe to hang around your house.
• Share this information with your neighbors and work together to do all the right things when it comes to having wildlife in residential areas. What you do will not be as effective if your neighbors are still feeding local wildlife.

“Again, prevention is always the key. Implement the nonlethal, preventative steps first to keep foxes from becoming regular visitors to your yard, especially in beach communities,” Turner said, and by making sure that food is not part of the equation helps keep things where they need to be in nearly all cases.

If a situation arises, residents can all the Wildlife Resource Commission’s N.C. Wildlife Helpline at 866-318-2401, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Friday, to speak with a trained biologist about wildlife and any concerns about specific damage or nuisance situations.

Residents can also call local animal control if a fox or coyote exhibits signs of rabies.

If a wild animal comes in direct contact with a person or pet, call your local health department and veterinarian immediately. Keep in mind that other diseases, such as canine distemper, can have the same symptoms as rabies.

“The N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission monitors and keeps records of various wildlife diseases, as they are a natural part of wildlife populations and serve as one normal cause of mortality,” Turner explained. He said to contact the commission when animals are found dead for no apparent reason or when disease concerns arise.  

Fox, coyote hunting and trapping

Regulated hunting by properly licensed hunters and trapping by licensed trappers remain effective tools for managing fox and coyote populations.

“Always be familiar with all state and local fox and coyote regulations before taking any direct action,” Turner said. Visit the commission website for current fox and coyote regulations and hunting season dates.

In North Carolina, trapping and hunting seasons for foxes are set and changed only under the authority of the General Assembly. Statewide, the trapping season for specific wild animal and furbearer species is Nov. 1 to Feb. 28.

Every county sets their own rules and regulations for hunting and trapping foxes. Foxes can be hunted in some counties using firearms and archery equipment. The website is very specific with the rules and regulations of trapping, and will vary widely depending upon the county in which you want to set your trap.

If a fox or coyote has caused property damage and removal of an animal under a depredation permit is necessary, contact a wildlife control agent, a private individual who may charge for their services. A list of these agents can be found on the commission website.

In five counties in northeastern North Carolina there are special rules in place regarding coyote hunting. Depredation permits for property damage can only be issued by Wildlife Resources Commission staff.

“It is illegal to relocate foxes or coyotes in North Carolina due to the potential of spreading diseases to other areas and because the animal would likely not survive trying to get back to its normal home range,” Turner said. “In some cases, lethal removal may become an option for a landowner when property damage is occurring on their own property.”

Licensed trappers interested in trapping foxes during a regulated trapping season must be familiar with local county fox laws.

The commission website says from Jan. 2-23 fox trapping is allowed in Clay, Graham, Henderson, Macon and Tyrrell counties with a daily bag limit of two and a season bag limit of 10. Trappers must have fox tags prior to taking foxes, and the sale of live foxes under this season is prohibited.

All traps used in the state must have a weather-resistant permanent tag attached with either the trapper’s name and address or the trapper’s identification number and the commission’s phone number, 800-662-7137. The trapper identification number is on the trapping license.

Turner explained that if a trap is placed on the property of another and identified by the trapper identification number, the commission is required to disclose the identity of the trapper to the landowner upon request. Foxes and coyotes may be sold live only to licensed fox preserves.

NCWildlife.org states that it’s illegal to trap wild animals on someone else’s land without possessing written permission that was issued and dated within the previous year by the landowner or his agent. This does not apply to public lands where trapping is not listed as prohibited, including marshlands, tidelands and any other untitled land.

It is also against the law to remove or disturb any legally set trap or remove any fur­bearing animal from a trap without the permission of the trap owner.

Further, it’s against the law to set or use a trap in which animals or birds are suspended when caught. And it’s illegal to set or use a hook of any sort or type to take wild animals or wild birds. Legal trap types include box/cage traps and colony traps, Conibear-type traps and, for beavers only, foothold trap snares. These must be smooth-edged and without teeth or spikes.

In North Carolina, it is unlawful to intentionally interfere with the lawful taking of wildlife or to drive, harass or intentionally disturb any wildlife for the purpose of dis­rupting the lawful taking of wildlife on public or private property, Turner said. “This law does not apply to activity by a person on land he or she owns or leases or to a person who incidentally interferes with the taking of wildlife resources while using the land for other lawful activity such as agriculture, mining or recreation.”

Violation of this subsection is a misdemeanor punishable for a first conviction by a fine not to exceed $1,000, by imprisonment not to exceed 30 days, or by both and punishable for a second or subsequent conviction by a fine left to the discretion of the court.

If you happen to see any behavior that you think is illegal, call your nearest wildlife enforcement officer, county sheriff’s office or police department right away.

Seeing wildlife is a reminder that most food-driven issues can be prevented when we work together and do our part to remove and secure attractants.

“Continuing to responsibly utilize this special wildlife resource through regulated hunting and trapping, where feasible and safe, will allow us to manage wild populations while working together to minimize conflicts now and in the future,” said Turner.

While many extoll the benefits and virtues of recycling, we have become a nation of complacent recyclers.

Each week we sort the things that can be recycled from the things that cannot, and roll our bins out to the street where they are collected and further sorted before being hauled off to commercial recycling facilities. We pat ourselves on the back for doing something for the environment.

Too frequently, however, we simply forget or we place our plastic in the wrong container. Perhaps on the way to a recycling facility, a plastic bottle slips out of the can or a storm knocks over the bin. That plastic bottle will begin a long, and unfortunately uninterrupted journey to its final destination — a swirling gyre of garbage in the middle of the ocean, part of 8 million tons of plastic that makes its way into our oceans each year.

We are beginning to understand just how disastrous these floating garbage patches –some twice the size of Texas — are to the global ecosystem and consequentially, our own health.

The overlooked connection is happening in our own backyards. Plastics are funneled toward major bodies of water by an immense system of urban storm drains, small ditches and creeks, and eventually rivers, before being emptied into the world’s oceans.

During this journey, plastic bottles, bags, wrappers and packaging are broken down by UV exposure and abrasion. Large plastic litter turns into microplastic pollution — small pieces of plastic less than five millimeters long that are especially harmful to aquatic life, causing issues ranging from reproduction impairment to death.

Once ingested, microplastics also begin working their way up the food chain toward our dinner plates, bringing a laundry list of chemicals with them.

The stark reality is that no place on earth is immune to this problem, least of all here in North Carolina. With 300 miles of beaches, the North Carolina coast supports an economy of more than 62,000 jobs and $3.1 billion in GDP in fishing, tourism and recreation, according to Oceana.

Plastic pollution that enters the ocean from our state’s rivers affects those industries by reducing the fish populations and fouling the beaches and swimming water. If we want to have viable industries, clean water and a stable environment for future generations –we must act now.

Waterkeepers Carolina, a coalition of Riverkeepers and Waterkeepers across North Carolina, has begun working with partners including the Plastic Ocean Project and the Duke Environmental Law and Policy Clinic on a two-year project to collect surface water and sediment samples for a year to better understand the volume of macro- and microplastic pollution in North Carolina’s streams, rivers, lakes, and bays.

In the second year of the project, a passive litter collection device will be deployed to remove plastic litter regularly. Water samples then will be collected again to demonstrate the extent to which removing plastic litter reduces microplastic pollution in urban waterways.

The project will include work by citizen scientists whose input will join other data sources to show that creek plastics become ocean plastics. We expect that as rivers receive stormwater runoff from urban areas, microplastic pollution will build as rivers get closer to the Atlantic Ocean.

This is not a problem that is too big to fix, nor is it one for future generations. This is a fight for everyone today—requiring our collective participation and attention—if we want to prevent ocean gyres from growing, protect marine animal populations and preserve our economy, health and lifestyle along the way.

The assignment seemed simple enough: Go check out Bennet’s Millpond outside of Edenton and create some photos. There was an algal bloom. It was spreading. And Coastal Review was doing a series on water quality issues in North Carolina.

Little did I know that the experience would leave me sitting on the side of a country road with a blinding headache, lungs on fire, throat burning, and haunted by a young family that was just found dead in similar circumstances.  

When it comes to algal blooms, this wasn’t my first rodeo. Growing up along the coast of North Carolina, where wastewater ponds from hog farms pockmark the landscape like so many dimples on a golf ball, and the fields of King Cotton can spread to the horizon, you become accustomed to these sorts of things — especially during hurricane season when the rains help spill all these extreme loads of nutrients into our waters.  

I knew these blooms were the result of intensive agriculture, development and other human activity. I knew they typically resulted in countless thousands of dead fish. I knew they smelled bad. I knew climate change was intensifying it all. But I didn’t know it could kill you.

Pulling up to the boat ramp of the old millpond, the first thing that struck me were the fumes. Well, that and the fact that there was no life, no birds, no dragonflies. It was hot. The gasses emitting from the bloom were overwhelming. In the moment, I chalked it all up to the fact that trillions of tiny algae were living and dying, and dead, rotting masses of stuff tend to stink. But it was all made that much worse because of the humidity, allowing me to breathe in what I would come to learn was a potential cocktail of toxins deep into my lungs where it would be absorbed into my blood.

I yanked a neck gaiter up around my nose and mouth to help cut down on the smell and began to explore the area.

When you want to capture the essence of a thing, you never just walk up, snap a few photos, and call it a day. You explore, both with your eyes and your feet, and you size up the situation. You start to pick apart the who, what, where, when, why and how of it all. And you start working your way through the thought experiments of how best to tell a story in a photograph.

To do this, we have what photojournalists call the holy trinity of lenses: a 14-24mm lens for capturing big-picture stuff, a 24-70mm lens that is the workhorse, and a 70-200mm lens for distance or details when you can’t get close. These are the tools we can’t live without. And for me, I add a drone to that list as well.

Drones, or unmanned aerial vehicles, UAV, have revolutionized visual communication and storytelling. Sometimes a thing cannot be understood by looking at its parts. An algal bloom is one of those things.

Green water next to green trees. It could be a reflection. It could be duckweed. It could be a mat of milfoil. It could be a spot 10 feet wide and nothing more than some floating vegetation. Who amongst us has not seen all these things before?

But to rise above it all, to climb into the air and look down upon the world reveals the bigger picture. It gives us perspective.

And so, with my trusty drone in the air, a piece of kit I’ve dragged all over the Western Hemisphere, I took a gods’ eye view of the state of things.

In under 20 minutes of standing by the edge of the millpond, my throat began to burn. Not like strep throat, however. This was different. More like inhaling bear spray, something I have experience with. And within minutes, it was my lungs, they were on fire. I began coughing. Hacking. Spitting. Before long, the headache set in. At times I couldn’t catch my breath — also like bear spray.

Have you ever heard of Very Fast Death Factor?

Me either.

But it’s a thing. And it’s way worse than murder hornets.

Which does leave me wondering, who comes up with these names?

Despite sounding like the name of a college metal band, Very Fast Death Factor is serious stuff that does exactly as the name implies — it kills things very quickly. This is the nickname that researchers have given a peculiar little toxin that blue-green algae can emit called Anatoxin-a. Very Fast Death Factor is one of many neurotoxins that a seemingly harmless little algae in our ponds and rivers can pump out. Another is saxitoxin. Its nickname is paralytic shellfish toxin — also bad, also deadly, also here. And it killed a water-skier in Wisconsin who inhaled the aerosolized version of this toxin.

Clearly, I survived. I traded out the neck gaiter for an N95 mask. But the damage was done. Minute after minute, my symptoms intensified. And eventually I realized the severity of the situation. In under an hour, I went from healthy energetic me to coughing, headache, burning lungs, dizziness, and outright awful.

A half-gallon of water made my throat feel better.

An hour of fresh air while driving with my windows down made my lungs stop burning.

And within a couple of hours, the headache was gone.

All I was left with were questions. So many questions.

There had been no signs, no warnings, no “Beware of the Very Fast Death Factor,” and no “stay away from the algal blooms burping clouds of death.” Nothing.

On Aug. 17, the bodies of John Gerrish, Ellen Chung, their 1-year-old daughter, Miju, and their family dog were found dead along a trail that hugged the banks of the Merced River in California. This is a strange one. No weapons. No obvious cause of death. Even the baby and dog were dead. All there. All together. All at once. The National Forest Service had just issued a warning along the very same trail about a harmful algal bloom.

While the world and I wait for that toxicology report, the leading hypothesis behind the death of this family is neurotoxins from that algal bloom.  

We know very little about these toxins and their ability to be aerosolized — how they are made airborne. Even though these neurotoxins are known to be some of the deadliest on the planet (hence Very Fast Death Factor), it wasn’t until 2019 up in Nantucket, Massachusetts, that anyone decided to test the air around algal blooms for this stuff. Low and behold, there it was.

I reached out to Haley Plaas, the University of North Carolina Institute of Marine Sciences researcher who took samples from Bennet’s Millpond to study the toxin concentrations present in both the water and air, about my experience. I ran down a list of my symptoms, the circumstances, and the timeline of recovery.

“This kind of anecdotal evidence is fairly common, but under-reported”, she said. “(These) reports are super important for my work …” However, it will still take another month before the sample results come back from the lab.

Given that we are just now beginning to learn that toxins are at times hanging in the air around these algal blooms, anecdotal evidence is largely all we have to go by. Meanwhile, the algal bloom continues to spread. There are still no warnings or closures. And now there is another one building up on the Pamlico River.

The news on the climate front keeps getting worse.

Regarding the report released Monday by the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, or IPCC, the headlines paint a dire picture: “Code Red for humanity,” was CNN’s banner for its coverage, quoting UN Secretary-General António Guterres; “Humans have pushed the climate into ‘unprecedented’ territory,” was how The Washington Post topped its story; “A Hotter Future Is Certain, Climate Panel Warns. But How Hot Is Up to Us,” warned The New York Times’ analysis.

All noted that even if nations of the world acted immediately to curb greenhouse gas emissions, enough damage is already done to guarantee a 1.5-degree Celsius rise in average global temperatures, or about 2.7 degrees Fahrenheit hotter.

The consequences of not rapidly and permanently cutting emissions, as The Post reported, are “increasingly catastrophic impacts.”

As we reported last year, North Carolina’s Climate Science Advisory Council’s 2020 assessment predicted warmer and wetter conditions with more flooding statewide and with coastal areas as risk from rising seas and increasingly frequent heavy downpours. At the time, our Kirk Ross interviewed State Climatologist Katie Dello about the report. She made it clear then that change was already happening.

“We’re feeling climate change now, so we don’t get to the luxury of talking about this as a future problem anymore,” she said. “It’s here in North Carolina. It’s here in our backyard and we’re seeing it through the sea level rise and extreme downpours.”

The IPCC’s summary of its findings for policymakers bears that out: “Human influence has warmed the climate at a rate that is unprecedented in at least the last 2000 years.” Some of the changes already happening, including sea level rise, are irreversible.

In 2019, atmospheric CO2 concentrations were higher than at any time in at least 2 million years, according to the summary, and concentrations of other greenhouse gases were higher than at any time in at least 800,000 years.

Global mean sea level has risen faster since 1900 than during any century in at least the last 3,000 years

Each of the last four decades has been successively warmer than any decade that preceded it since 1850.

It is likely that human behavior contributed to changing rainfall patterns since the mid-20th century, and mid-latitude storm tracks have shifted toward the poles in both hemispheres since the 1980s.

The scientists say it is virtually certain that oceans have warmed just since the 1970s and it is extremely likely that human influence is the main driver. It is also virtually certain that human-caused CO2 emissions are the main driver of ocean acidification.

Coastal cities, towns and villages “are particularly affected” by climatic factors that have already changed and will continue to change, whatever happens with regard to emissions. That means increases in extreme heat, flooding rainstorms, coastal erosion and coastal flooding. Increasing relative sea levels are compounding the flood problems associated with storm surge and intense rainfall.

There’s still much we can do to limit the damage. As the Times phrased it, “humanity can still prevent the planet from getting even hotter.” Doing so will require what the IPCC report describes as “strong and sustained reductions” in emissions of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases. And even then, it could take two to three decades before global temperatures stabilize. But we will have at least taken steps to lessen the damage that would otherwise only be worse for our children and grandchildren.

And while there’s no silver lining, North Carolina, which still has a reputation for climate change denialism, has begun slowly moving in the right direction. As Coastal Review has reported in detail, debate here has shifted over the past decade from whether to do something to what should be done.

Officials released in 2020 the North Carolina Climate Risk Assessment and Resilience Plan as a comprehensive guide for addressing the risks of climate change to the state’s infrastructure and economy. The plan was hailed for addressing both the causes and effects and providing planning tools for local governments.

Also, the legislature has in recent sessions advanced bills that reflect a more comprehensive approach to flooding and stormwater management.

The House budget plan for the next two years would boost funding for the state’s Land and Water Fund and and other conservation programs with nearly $2 billion for flood prevention, resiliency and stormwater and wastewater infrastructure.

Meanwhile, new federal infrastructure and climate initiatives promise an even larger flow of funds if the state has programs in place to take advantage of it.

While these efforts offer numerous reasons for optimism, as the IPCC report states, the time to act on resiliency and the kind of carbon reductions that will truly make an impact for the next generation is now.

As we look ahead to the prospects outlined in the report and the state’s risk assessment, we know that what we do in the immediate future will have an impact on what the next generations face.

At Coastal Review, our role is not just to report on the impacts of the climate crisis, but to critically examine the plans, the science and proposed solutions in detail and to take a clear-eyed approach to the decisions at the state, federal and local levels that will affect our region and, ultimately, our planet. 

Reprinted from Ocracoke Observer

The red knot is an amazing bird.

Only about the size of an American robin and usually weighing under 5 ounces, it completes a marathon migratory flight.

Most of these knots, the rufa subspecies, winter in Tierra del Fuego, the southernmost tip of South America.

From there, their 9,000-plus-mile route to their nesting area in the middle- and high-Arctic areas of northern Canada is one of the longest migration routes for a bird.  Although some red knots winter in the United States — with some most years on Ocracoke — Florida has the highest numbers.

These incredible migrants are also at risk of extinction, and information about their migration through North Carolina may help with population recovery efforts.

These shorebirds became a news story this spring when the annual red knot survey in the Delaware Bay region noted greatly diminished numbers.

This bay is a major staging area since red knots feed primarily on the normally plentiful horseshoe crab eggs before resuming their migration to the Arctic.

The dismal numbers — approximately 7,000 reported in the Delaware Bay area — signaled a significant decline in their numbers, which is about a third of those counted just last year in 2020 and the lowest since the early 1980s when the population was about 90,000.

Most of the blame has been attributed to overharvesting of horseshoe crabs for bait and biomedical products.

Other reasons for the precipitous drop cite climate change and sea level rise, coastal development, reduced food availability at coastal stopover areas, and human-related disturbances by vehicles, pets, low-flying aircraft and motorboats.

In 2020, horseshoe crabs did not arrive in the Delaware Bay when the red knots passed through due to unusually cold ocean waters.

Without this important food source, it is feared that many knots did not survive their long trek to the Arctic last spring, which would account for this year’s extremely low numbers.

Some theories for the low numbers suggest that when they do not find sufficient food sources one year, they may avoid those areas and find others.

Ocracoke Island and other areas of the Outer Banks have had good numbers of knots passing through in spring migration for the last couple of years.

According to information supplied by the National Park Service, a survey on May 12 produced a peak count of 1,100 red knots, surpassing the highest 2020 single-day count of 750.

The Core Sound area of the Cape Lookout National Seashore harbored 1,838 individuals on May 16, which, according to Meaghan Johnson, chief of resource management and science for National Parks of Eastern North Carolina, was the highest peak count in that area since 2016.

Significantly, observers noted a frenzied feeding behavior as the knots beefed up for their remaining long flight to the Arctic.

Considering the diminished numbers tallied in the Delaware Bay survey, the number of red knots passing through North Carolina becomes more significant, said Jon Altman, resource management supervisor at Cape Lookout National Seashore.

This view was shared by Larry Niles, an independent wildlife biologist who once headed New Jersey’s endangered species program. He has been monitoring the birds’ migration on the New Jersey side of Delaware Bay for the last 25 years. He has said that the best hope for the species to survive lies in a complete ban on harvesting female horseshoe crabs until the crab population recovers.

“We need to know more about red knot migration through North Carolina,” he said.  

It is not known whether these Tarheel knots stop in the Delaware Bay region following their Outer Banks refueling stop. It is worth considering attaching radio geolocator tags on some to track their movements to help identify important stopover locations and the length of stays during their epic migration.

To read more about red knots, visit Birds of Ocracoke: the Red Knot.

This story is provided courtesy of the Ocracoke Observer, a newspaper covering Ocracoke island. Coastal Review is partnering with the Ocracoke Observer to provide readers with more environmental and lifestyle stories of interest along our coast. 

While “shark attack” is an often-used term, it’s not really accurate because sharks don’t seek out humans to “attack,” they’re just doing what comes naturally in the wild.

Sharks are opportunistic feeders and occasionally bite a surfer or swimmer if they venture into murky waters and splash a lot at the surface. This splashing action sends the shark a signal that you may be wounded, and therefore an easy meal.

North Carolina sharks do not act like they are portrayed in the movies. A shark will not stalk your boat, or jump up and take down a helicopter because they do not like you, or your passengers. Most shark species have a comparatively small brain in proportion to their body size, and hunt by instinct, not because of hatred, or dislike of any human.

There are about 73 species of shark that live or pass through North Carolina waters each year. The availability, and numbers of the various species changes with each season.

As this is Shark Week, which began Sunday and ends July 18, we will talk specifically about those found in area waters during the summer. Shark Week originated 33 years ago on the Discovery Channel.

It is important to note that if you choose to target fishing for these beautiful creatures, you are required by law to use a circle hook at all times.

“North Carolina’s coast is a very sharky place. The fact that important shark habitat includes the state’s estuaries often surprises locals and visitors alike,” said Chuck Bangley, a former graduate student at East Carolina University and writer for NC Sea Grant’s Coastwatch magazine. He is currently a postdoctoral fellow at Dalhousie University in Nova Scotia, Canada.

“So far, my surveys and North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries data have identified a dozen shark species in North Carolina estuaries. Many of those occur often enough to be considered regular members of these ecosystems. The murky waters conceal crucial feeding grounds for these predators, many of which are simply migrating through as they journey up and down the East Coast,” he said.

Sharks are actually beautiful animals that are 100% designed to feed and catch their food — fish or marine mammals — not people.

Their streamlined design of long and tapered bodies as a general rule, large tail or caudal fin for quick bursts of speed, rigid dorsal or top fin for stability while swimming, sensors on their noses to detect motion, or sound waves in the water, and an incredible sense of smell allows a shark to detect exactly where a single drop of blood is coming from many miles away.

David Behringer, North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries shark biologist, told Coastal Review that the division does not sample nearshore ocean areas but for inshore water sampling, they most frequently encounter during summer months Atlantic sharpnose, bonnethead, sandbar, bull shark, smooth dogfish, and blacktip sharks, in order from most frequent to least.

“In addition to inhabiting inshore waterbodies, these species are also found along North Carolina’s ocean beaches,” he said.

“We do not encounter sand tigers in our inshore sampling because they stay in the ocean and do not spend time in the areas we sample, but they are another fairly common shark species in North Carolina,” Behringer continued. “They can be caught by recreational surf fishermen and are also encountered while snorkeling and scuba diving at many of the nearshore wrecks. Although they have quite a menacing set of teeth, they are very docile.”.

During the summer months off the North Carolina coast, the Atlantic sharpnose shark is the most commonly occurring shark species in state waters. However, during winter months that would be the spiny dogfish.

Let’s take a closer look at several species you may find during the warmer, summer months.

The Atlantic sharpnose shark is the single, most common shark off of North Carolina every summer. These are part of a small coastal shark group managed under the National Marine Fisheries Service Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Tunas, Swordfish and Sharks. The group also includes the requiem species of blacknose, and finetooth sharks, while the bonnethead is a member of the hammerhead species.

“Atlantic sharpnose sharks are a small shark species that have long, slender bodies with elongated snouts, which is where they get their name. They are a brownish-gray color on top and have a white underside. Juveniles have black edges on the dorsal and caudal fins that fade as they become adults. The species is found inshore in the surf zone, bays and estuaries, but also inhabit shallower offshore waters. They grow to about 4 feet,” Behringer said.

Atlantic sharpnose sharks are commonly found in the western Atlantic from New Brunswick, Canada, through the Gulf of Mexico, and are commonly caught in U.S. waters from Virginia to Texas. This is the species you are most likely to catch off of North Carolina waters during the summer.

“Females mature at around 2 years of age in the Atlantic when they reach approximately 2 feet in length, and at around 1.3 years old in the Gulf of Mexico when they are reach about 25 inches in length. This species can live to be up to at least 18 years of age,” he said.

In both the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico, Atlantic sharpnose sharks mate annually between mid-May and mid-July in inshore waters. After mating they migrate offshore to deeper waters. The mother feeds the pups through a placental sac and after a gestation period of 10 to 11 months, the females return to nearshore areas to give birth in June of each year.

“Sharpnose sharks give birth to around four pups each year. Atlantic sharpnose sharks eat a variety of small fish, as well as invertebrates such as worms, shrimp, crabs, and mollusks. Large carnivorous fish, including large sharks, eat Atlantic sharpnose sharks,” Behringer said.

Sandbar sharks can be found off North Carolina during summer months. This brownish-gray shark has a recognizably large and triangular dorsal fin and somewhat long pectoral fins. It averages 6 feet long and about 110 to 150 pounds.

True to its name, this shark prefers the sandy bottoms of coastal areas, and is known for seasonal migration like many other requiem sharks. Because sandbar sharks have such a long growth and reproduction cycle, it is earning selected protected status in many areas.

Since this species prefers smaller prey and has a tendency to avoid beaches and the surface, the sandbar shark poses little threat to humans. Although it has been rarely associated with attacks on humans, its size makes it potentially dangerous.

“Bonnethead sharks are also found in North Carolina waters. They have an elongated front nose that allows the shark to see in different angles and directions than most other sharks in the ocean. They have gill slits for breathing. This shark is known for its’ broad, smooth, spade-like head, they have the smallest hammerhead of all members of this shark family. Their coloration ranges from a gray-brown above to lighter on the bottom. These too, are a rather bashful and harmless shark to humans,” said Behringer.

Their bodies taper to points at both the snout and the tail, making the animal very streamlined while moving through the water, and greatly lowering the drag created by the salt water. Their snouts are covered with sensory organs that pick up electrical signals from potential prey.

“Bonnethead sharks are from the family Sphyrnidae, which is composed of all the hammerhead species. Bonnethead sharks are much smaller than other hammerhead species, such as the smooth hammerhead, and great hammerhead, and reach a maximum size of only 5 feet. This species is found in the warmer waters of the western Atlantic and the eastern Pacific. It ranges from New England, where it is rare, all the way through southern Brazil, and from southern California to Ecuador. During the summer it is common in the inshore waters of the Carolinas and Georgia,” Behringer said.

The bonnethead shark is a more social shark that swims in small groups of five to 15 individuals in a school. They will feed mainly on crustaceans, consisting mostly of blue crabs, a North Carolina specialty, but also shrimp, mollusks and small fish.

“Bonnetheads are viviparous, meaning the female will nourish the embryos internally and give live birth, produce eggs that are held and nourished in her internal reproductive system until the young are mature enough to be released to the outside,” he said.

This species is the fourth most common shark seen during the summertime in North Carolina waters.

Behringer explained that smooth dogfish have a slender body with two dorsal fins nearly equal in size, and reach a maximum size of 5 feet.

“The second dorsal fin is closer to the caudal tail, or back fin of the shark. The gap between the first and second dorsal fin is roughly equal to the distance between the shark’s snout and the first dorsal fin,” he said.

Smooth dogfish are often misidentified as a different species, the spiny dogfish, but there are some notable differences that can be used to distinguish the two species.

“Spiny dogfish have a small spine in front of each dorsal fin and they also have white spots along the side of their bodies. Smooth dogfish do not have spines or spots. Also, smooth dogfish have pelvic and anal fins, while the spiny dogfish only have pelvic fins,” he said. “Additionally, smooth dogfish are most commonly in North Carolina waters in the warmer summer months, while spiny dogfish are most frequently encountered during winter months. Smooth dogfish, are one of the most commonly caught shark species along the North Carolina coast, and can be caught by boats, shore, and pier fishermen.”

Populations of some shark species have been in decline for many years prompting state and federal management agencies to implement many catch restrictions to control the numbers of sharks being removed from the population. Possession of many species are against the law. Because sharks can be very difficult to identify, fishermen should be very careful that they are actually removing the correct species of shark from local waters.

Bangley explained that blacktip sharks are among the larger sharks in the sounds, reaching lengths of 8 feet, although most measure 6 feet or less.

“They occur in ocean waters from late spring to late fall, and usually move into the sounds during the summer and autumn. These fast predators chase schools of menhaden and mullet, and will sometimes make spinning leaps out of the water while feeding. Recreational fishermen target these sharks for the strong fight they can put up when hooked,” Bangley said, adding that blacktip sharks have black margins on every fin but the anal fin. The leading edge of their dorsal fin starts just above or slightly before the trailing edge of the pectoral fin.

Bull sharks, which can reach 10.5 feet in length, are the apex predators of the North Carolina sounds, Bangley added.

“They can tolerate brackish and fresh water, and for that reason can be found in nearly any body of water that has a connection to the ocean. Adults and juveniles have been sighted in the Newport, Neuse and Pamlico rivers, and even parts of the Albemarle Sound. Bull sharks attack large prey, as evidenced by bite scars on resident bottlenose dolphins in the Neuse River and reports of large red drum eaten off fishermen’s hooks. This species can be dangerous to humans and should be treated with caution. Bull sharks are recognizable by their wide body, blunt nose and proportionally small eyes,” Bangley continued.

The spinner shark is a close relative of the blacktip shark and shares its habit of making spinning leaps out of the water. Spinner sharks can grow larger than their blacktip cousins, reaching 10 feet. They can be told apart from blacktips by their sharper, longer snout, a dorsal fin with a leading edge starting after the trailing edge of the pectoral fins, and a black-tipped anal fin.

“Finally, sand tiger sharks can grow to 12 feet and can be found year-round in North Carolina waters, especially around habitat that includes shipwrecks and live-bottom reef habitat. Developing sand tiger sharks will feed on their own siblings in the womb until only two are left, and at birth they are more than 4 feet in length,” said Bangley.

Even though they have a rather savage start to their lives, and look very scary with their sharp, protruding teeth sticking out from their jaws, sand tiger sharks are usually quite docile around humans during daylight hours, which makes them popular with scuba divers and at aquariums.

With their proportionally small fins, pointed snouts and jagged teeth, along with large dark spots running along both sides of their body, sand tiger sharks are easy to tell apart from any other shark found in North Carolina.

Sharks are cool critters that we share the ocean. They are to be respected, but not feared. Use common sense when you enter their domain and you will not have a problem with them. If you surf, swim, or fish, just do not go into water that is very murky, wear something shiny around your neck, or wrist, and avoid going in the water with an open wound, or bleeding fish hanging from your hip. Remember that we are visitors in their home, and show them the respect that they deserve.

As more and more people move to the coast, there is a constant struggle between development and protecting our coastal environment.

We all need to be working together to resolve the complex issues facing our North Carolina coast. Currently, this is not happening. Standing at the forefront between future development and the environment is the United States Army Corps of Engineers. The Corps is an engineer formation of the United States Army that has three primary missions: Engineer Regiment, Military Construction and Civil Works. These engineers build sea walls, renourish beaches, dredge inlets and give approval for others (towns and contractors) to perform activities such as the construction of terminal groins and creating new or restoring existing navigational channels by dredging. Another important mission is aquatic ecosystem protection and restoration. Therefore, and unfortunately, the future of our coastal environment is not in the hands of natural resource agencies and coastal scientists, but rather in the hands of engineers.

A generalized difference between engineers and coastal scientists is that scientists are trained to understand natural systems while engineers are trained to manipulate the natural systems. Protecting our coastal environment should require and combine both; the engineers’ practical problem-solving expertise along with the scientists’ expertise on how nature works. Unfortunately in problem solving, coastal engineers usually ignore the scientific concerns expressed by coastal scientists. It is this scientific uncertainty about natural events that can undo engineering interventions on the coast. In some cases, the consequences of intervention can take several decades to become apparent. This makes it difficult for the general public to access applications and make the connection between Corps intervention and consequences it triggers.

The Corps recently approved permits to place a terminal groin on the east end of Ocean Isle Beach and to perform new dredging to create a navigational channel in Jinks Creek at Sunset Beach. What does the science say about these two projects? What are the probable future consequences the taxpayers, residents and vacationers of Ocean Isle Beach and Sunset can expect?

Example 1. A terminal groin was approved for the east end of Ocean Isle Beach because the beach in that area is eroding. A groin is a long, solid structure that extends out into the water, perpendicular to the shoreline, and is typically made of cement or rock. Groins prevent erosion by trapping the longshore transport of sediment on the updrift side of the groin. Wave actions naturally remove sand from the beach and this sand enters the longshore current and moves the sand parallel to the shoreline. In Brunswick County beaches this sand moves east to west. Terminal groins act like dams, physically stopping the movement of sand. Groins do result in a buildup of sand on the upstream side of the groin, which is precisely what they are designed to do. However, the areas further downstream are cut off from the natural longshore transport thereby triggering more erosion.

Figure 1 demonstrates that once the first groin is constructed additional groins will be required to protect the beach downstream. This figure shows a series of six groins along a beach. Notice the erosion downstream from the groin at the top of the figure. 

On the other hand, soft stabilization such as beach nourishment, dune building, marsh systems and living shorelines should be considered before intervention with hard structures like terminal groins. Soft structures will not subject the beaches of Ocean Isle Beach and eventually Sunset Beach to a series of terminal groins.

How can placing a terminal groin on Ocean Isle Beach be considered beach restoration when it will trigger more erosion? If a terminal groin is placed on the East end of Ocean Isle Beach how many future, additional groins will be needed? What will be the cost? Who will pay?

Example 2. The Corps recently approved a Sunset Beach permit to create a new navigational channel in South Jinks Creek, which is a naturally occurring shallow water tidal creek that has never been dredged before. Figure 2 shows the location of Jinks Creek on the East end of Sunset Beach. Jinks Creek via Tubbs Inlet connects the Atlantic Ocean to the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway. Just west of South Jinks Creek are the feeder canals and Canal Bay area. North Jinks Creek is surrounded by salt marshes which have been designated primary nursery areas and thus cannot be dredged. The town originally proposed to dredge all of Jinks Creek along with the feeder/canals and Canal Bay but, due to the high density of oyster beds North Jinks Creek was removed. 

Scientists have clearly expressed concerns that dredging a 1,700-foot-long, 80-foot-wide navigational channel that is 5 feet mean low water level in South Jinks Creek will increase the risk of flooding and erosion after storm surges on the east end of Sunset Beach. The engineering consulting firm Moffat and Nichol hired by the town said their computer modeling indicates there will not be any increase of flooding or erosion. The engineers state their modeling data estimates the maximum flood increase to occur in South Jinks Creek may be equal to an order of only 1/64 of an inch.

North Carolina State University professor emeritus Dr. Len Pietrafesa, the Burroughs and Chapin Scholar at Coastal Carolina University, Dr. Paul Gayes, a professor of marine science and geology at Coastal Carolina University and executive director of the Burroughs and Chapin Center for Marine and Wetlands at Coastal Carolina University, and Dr. Shaowu Bao, associate professor at the Coastal Science Center at Coastal Carolina University, using the very same computer program but with additional input data, disagree.

According to Dr. Pietrafesa, the study done by the consulting firm did not take into account nonlocal forcing due to wind set up at the mouths of tidal inlets, such as Tubbs Inlet that connects to South Jinks Creek, which are stochastic, or cannot be precisely predicted, and can overwhelm the amount of volumetric transport that can be driven into the system, particularly for South Jinks Creek. There already is major erosion in this area as shown by the extensive network of sandbags where Tubbs Inlet joins South Jinks Creek. If the three independent academic scientists are correct, the property owners in this area can expect more sand bagging on the rest of South Jinks Creek and possibly in Canal Bay. Sandbags are most likely only a temporary fix. What is next, other hard structures like bulkheads or sea walls? What will happen to the property values in this area?

After the initial dredging, maintenance dredging will be required every few years to keep the unnatural channel open. What will be the escalating costs of the required additional dredging? Who will pay for them?

Another consequence of dredging South Jinks Creek is that it will increase the sediment load deposited in North Jinks Creek. This will bury the high density of oyster beds. Oysters are a “keystone” species, meaning their removal could dramatically change the ecosystem. What will be the ecological impact on North Jinks Creek and the surrounding primary nursery areas? How can dredging a shallow-water tidal creek that has never been dredged before be considered aquatic ecosystem protection and restoration? 

In addition, the increased sediment load deposited in North Jinks Creek will most likely require that North Jinks Creek be dredged followed by more maintenance dredging. Again, what will be the escalating costs and who will pay? 

The civil works side of the Corps’ mission includes:

1. Navigation.
2. Flooding and storm protection.
3. Aquatic ecosystem restoration.

If you protect wisely you don’t have to restore. They are naturally a function of each other. If we are serious about attempting to protect what little natural environment, we have left we must convince the engineers of the Corps to collaborate with the independent academic scientists who have dedicated their professional lives to studying our coast. True collaboration leads to win-win solutions.

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. The opinions expressed by the authors are not those of Coastal Review or the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Guest commentary

I read an article published this past week, “Ditch of Death: Navigation Dicey in Hatteras Inlet … again.” It tells of the recreational fisherman’s influence on Hatteras Village’s economy and how our Island’s commissioner worries about the “shoaling issues scaring away out-of-town vessels coming in for tournaments.”

But you failed to cover how commercial fishermen have been impacted by the inlet! In my opinion, Hatteras Village is just as dependent on commercial boats as we are on transient “eleven-million-dollar game fishing vessels.” As a seafood market owner and fish dealer, I worry about losing the last few remaining commercial fishermen we have because Hatteras Inlet is non-functioning.

Hatteras Village has been an active commercial fishing town long before we were ever a top beach destination. The average vacationer or full-time resident will not encounter commercial fishermen unless it is through their fork. You do not see them because they leave at 3 a.m. and get back after 10 p.m.– too early for coffee shops, too late for restaurants. Driving down the highway in Hatteras, you see rows of charter boats, but you won’t see commercial boats unless you go down the slash. But just because they are hidden in the safety of secluded harbors does not mean they do not pull their weight in town.

Most of the community has no idea that for the past year, Hatteras Island’s top commercial fishing boat, F/V Sea Bound, has been missing from its slip. In my world, its front-page news every week. I hear it non-stop at Wanchese Harbor, “Wow, so Sea Bound still can’t get out Hatteras Inlet?! That’s so sad …” Our island’s only long line boat is operating out of our neighboring fishing village and their residents are talking about it more than ours are!

Even more, most have no idea the Engelhard fleet did not fish out of Hatteras this year for the first time in decades. This was a massive hit for the village’s seafood industry: We depend on these dozen boats to net bluefish, ribbonfish, and dogfish throughout the fall and winter and sell them to local fish houses.

These fishermen opted to work out of Wanchese instead of Hatteras, landing millions of pounds of fish there because they could not rely on our inlet. In addition to the Engelhard fleet, our Wanchese King Mackerel fleet comes every fall and winter too. Usually, there at least a dozen of these boats. This year there were just a few.

These are the people who keep our local economy functioning in the off-season while our charter fleet remains tied up. They rent our houses, frequent our grocery stores and restaurants, buy fuel at our stations, buy fishing gear at our shops, make repairs at our boatyard, keep our fish houses open, feed our residents and visitors … All we have to do in return? Keep their way to work open.

Missing out on crucial fishing is not an option – you must reach the fishing grounds on time or somebody else will so you cannot wait for high tide. Bringing home your harvest, you cannot risk running aground with a fully loaded boat. This is when you get into danger and roll over from the extra weight. But the fish must get to market as fast as possible to maintain quality so you cannot wait for high tide now either, or you will miss the truck. It would be like if you had a drawbridge on your drive to work but they only lowered it twice a day, but those times change daily, and its only down for an hour.

What does it mean to our small village when commercial fishing boats leave our port? National Marine Fisheries has a formula: For every crew member on board a fishing vessel, 10 people are employed in shoreside support. So, when the two dozen boats from Engelhard and Wanchese did not come last winter with their crews, over 500 people employed as shoreside support were directly impacted. This is nearly 15% of our island’s population!

Just one commercial boat fishing out of Hatteras Village has a massive impact on the local economy. The boat owner employees two to three crew members but the labor does not stop there. At the fish house, another seven people are employed to pack out, report, and sell the fish. A truck driver is employed to carry the fish to market. If the fish are staying local, you need a fish cutter, and at least three employees at each restaurant or fish market. If the fish is being sold out of town, typically New York City or Boston, an additional 15-20 jobs are added to the supply chain.

As I write this, I am reflecting on the fishing trip our local tuna fleet just returned from, they left the dock while a tropical storm was beginning to form offshore. During setting on the third night, it had reached them – a squall came through with gusts of 70 mph. Then the rain started. One mate told me it rained so hard that they could not hear anything but water pounding into water but at least it knocked the waves down a little. I quote him here, “Cold. Wet. Miserable. Okay!”

But the part of the trip that is the scariest, the deadliest? Not setting 15 miles of fishing gear in a 70-mph squall but it’s the final two-mile stretch home that will get you. The inlet holds the power and only thing getting you through is the timing and experience of your captain. Even the best captains run into trouble at Hatteras Inlet, it’s just that unpredictable.

The first time I ran aground going out Hatteras channel was about six years ago when my brother, Graham, took me grouper fishing on F/V Prowler. We left at 3:30 a.m., so I hopped onto the large cooler for a nap while we went out. I was sound asleep when I was woken in mid-air, falling onto deck. Startled, I jumped up and said, “What happened?!” Graham calmly replied, “We ran aground.” He got on the radio and called the fleet, asking if anyone could come close and throw us a wave. A boat came along about 15 minutes later with the promised wave, thankfully it was enough to push us off the shoal and we were back on route.

Coming in that night, Graham had not forgotten the events of the morning’s departure. This time I was sleeping in the bunk when he wakes me up around 10 p.m. He says, “come up here and stand by the wheel.” I do it immediately and ask my question once I am in position, “why do I have to stand here?” He replied, “because if we run aground again, I need you right here next to me so I can keep you safe.” I stayed standing there, glued to the side of his captain’s chair for an hour and half until we got back to the slip.

Graham knows the dangers of running aground all too well – he almost died from it when he was 19 years old. Graham was filling in on a friend’s charter boat and the captain decided to leave out Oregon Inlet instead Hatteras, a less familiar course for him. Graham was standing at the back of the boat when the captain ran the high-speed boat violently aground. Graham was sent flying into the cabin wall. A crushed skull, torn shoulder and bleeding ear got him a helicopter ride to Norfolk General. It took a full year to heal up and he still fells pain in his shoulder when fishing gets good. 

My brother has owned and operated my dad’s fishing business since his retirement in 2014. Like many of our fishermen, my dad got tired of Hatteras Inlet. Risking your boat and your life just to get out fishing for 100 pounds of grouper? Nope. Not going to happen. Before regulation changes, he could land 3,000 pounds of grouper and the inlet could be used all day, now that was worth the potential peril.

Many of our county’s bigger boats also agree that risk has outweighed reward in our local waterways. They cannot risk bringing their trawlers into Wanchese out of fear of running aground. Instead, they opt for calmer, jettied, inlets below us where a one-foot wave is considered a breaking bar. Trickle-down fishing economics, I suppose. Hatteras boats can’t get out Hatteras Inlet, so they move to Wanchese. Wanchese boats can’t get out Oregon Inlet, so they move to Beaufort.

Our island’s fishing is worth saving but boats must have a way to access the Atlantic Ocean or there is no reason for them to stay here. Hatteras Island offshore fishermen are in extreme financial duress and the remainder of our fleet will soon be forced to relocate to neighboring fishing ports as well. I believe it is time for Governor Cooper to call this what it is: a natural disaster. Hatteras Island needs help now or we are at risk of losing our cultural heritage: a fate many fellow fishing communities across North Carolina have already been forced into.

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review Online welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. The opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review Online or the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

This time each year, rivers and streams throughout coastal North Carolina are teeming with migratory fish during their annual spawning run.

River herring, Atlantic and shortnose sturgeon and American eel are among those moving upriver. Early last year, we brought you stories on two additional migratory species found in coastal North Carolina waters: striped bass and American shad.

A single river may see only a few individuals, while others may have thousands of migratory fish per year. From the earliest times, pre-Colonial days into the 20th century, river herring, sturgeon and eels have been considered an important food source, often eagerly awaited after harsh winters.

Alewife and blueback herring

River herring are actually two distinct species, the alewife and the blueback, but the two are so closely related as to be almost indistinguishable. So, the common name river herring is generally used for both.

River herring are anadromous, meaning that they feed in saltwater most of their life, but return to freshwater to reproduce. They are found along the entire East Coast, ranging from Nova Scotia to the St. Johns River in northern Florida and migrating up and down the coast with the change of seasons.

“River herring in North Carolina will spawn in late February, through early May. The alewives arrive first, spawning in ponds or slow-moving water when the water temperature is about 55 to 61 degrees Fahrenheit. Blueback herring will arrive three to four weeks later, spawning in faster-moving streams when the water temperature reaches about 58 to 61 degrees. Each female will release an average of over 100,000 eggs directly into the water. Both species spawn in groups, scatter their eggs, and cease spawning when water temperatures rise above 81 degrees Fahrenheit. A large number of eggs are necessary because only a limited number will survive the summer months to make the journey out to the sea,” said Holly White, North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries river herring biologist.

Alewife eggs will settle to the bottom of still pond waters, while the blueback’s eggs will tumble along the bottom gravel streambeds, she said. The eggs are fertilized by milt from males and both species’ eggs will hatch into larvae in three to seven days after spawning, depending upon water temperatures.

Larvae will spend the early summer months feeding and being fed upon. All life stages of river herring are highly utilized forage species for many riverine, estuarine and marine piscivorous species, including airborne predators.

“River herring are important prey for other fish species jointly managed by federal and state governments, including bluefish, American eel, striped bass and weakfish. Freshwater species such as largemouth bass, pumpkinseed, redfin pickerel, shiners, walleye, white bass, white perch and yellow perch also consume river herring,” White said.

River herring primarily feed on zooplankton, although fish eggs, crustacean eggs, insects and insect eggs are also important foods aiding in development. Larvae begin feeding on zooplankton immediately upon formation of a functional mouth, at about a quarter of an inch in length. By summer’s end, the young herring have grown to be about 1 to 2 inches long.

As autumn temperatures begin to drop, river herring make the return journey back to the sea. After three to four years of feeding at sea, herring will make their first spawning run back to the area of their birth. Adults may return to spawn more than once, although the number returning to spawn is reduced as they age.

“Once river herring emigrate from North Carolina’s estuarine waters to the ocean, they migrate north, between 40 and 43 degrees north latitude, to Nantucket Shoals, Georges Bank and the Gulf of Maine to join the coastwide population on the overwintering grounds. In the early spring, mature river herring begin the migration south. Herring native to North Carolina waters will return to the general area in which they were born. Following spawning, both males and female emigrate from the rivers and return to the ocean. River herring spend the summer months in the waters above 40 degrees north latitude, feeding on plant and animal zooplankton,” White said.

River herring are an important link in the coastal ecosystem, providing a vital source of food for stripped bass and bluefish, as well as herring gulls. Nesting osprey and bald eagles also prey on herring to feed their young.

“River herring in North Carolina made up one of the largest freshwater fisheries in the world. Due to loss of available spawning habitat, high fishing mortality and lower water quality, river herring landings in North Carolina began to decline in the mid- to late 1980s,” she said.

Since 2007, the commercial and recreational harvest of river herring has been prohibited in all coastal-joint-inland waters of the state, she said.

American Eel

American eels are catadromous, meaning this species spends most of its life in freshwater, rivers, streams, ponds and lakes, but returns to the sea to reproduce.

This species begin their lives’ journey spawning in the Sargasso Sea near Bermuda, in the North Atlantic. Their eggs hatch out into larvae, which are brought by prevailing currents back to the Atlantic Coast of northern South America, and the Gulf coast.

“As they grow, American eels undergo a metamorphosis and change their appearance dramatically. Their name depends upon the age of the fish, which is determined by the coloration of their body and size. Eels first returning to their home rivers are called glass eels, which are translucent and almost impossible to see with the naked eye,” said Todd Mathes, North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries American eel biologist.

These small fish are between 1 and several inches in length. As they grow, reaching about 6 inches in length, they undergo another change, gaining pigmentation and looking more like baby eels.

“During the next stage of development, the eels turn yellow in color and are called, you guessed it, yellow eels,” Mathes said. “Finally, when the animals grow to between 2 feet and 5 feet in length and become sexually mature, they are called silver eels.”

The sex of American eels isn’t determined until they are about 7.9 to 9.8 inches in length. The determining factor on whether they become male or female is the numbers of eel available in a particular ecosystem. Female eels grow the quickest, and may grow to be 4 to 5 feet in length. Generally, any eel larger than 12.99 inches is considered to be a female. Once an adult eel, they turn silver with larger eyes. When close to becoming sexually mature, the eels start moving back down to the ocean, and will swim some 3,000 miles to the Sargasso Sea. 

“That is where all American eels go to spawn. It is generally assumed that the adults die after spawning. The exact details are still unknown,” Mathes said.

Scientists believe the highly adaptive American eel has some of the most diverse habitats of any species of fish found on the planet. In North Carolina, estuarian habitats, like those found in the Albemarle-Pamlico Sound region, provide the earlier life stages a good home. Lakes and ponds have historically been considered among the most important habitats for the eels to mature and grow, because most eels that grow up in these freshwater environments typically become females.

“At one time, American eels were found throughout all of North Carolina’s coastal waters, even described by early fish collectors as ‘everywhere abundant’ in the upper Catawba River. The American eel finds fresh water habitat in North Carolina in streams and large rivers in the Piedmont and coastal plain regions, but numbers are greatly reduced upstream of many dams,” said Mathes.

Hydroelectric and other dams block or slow movements of elvers, or a young eel, and subadult eels to upstream habitats. American eels continue to be distributed throughout the lower areas of watersheds closest to the sea and sounds. They are prevented from reaching extreme headwaters where they had historically been reported as “everywhere common” in 1889 by scientist D.S. Jordan.

Atlantic, shortnose sturgeon

 All five U.S. Atlantic sturgeon distinct population segments are listed as endangered or threatened under the Endangered Species Act. A distinct population segment is the smallest division of a species permitted to be protected under the act. An endangered species is one in danger of becoming extinct.

Atlantic sturgeon that hatch out in Gulf of Maine rivers are listed as threatened, and those that hatch out in other U.S. rivers are listed as endangered.

“The distinct population segment most common to North Carolina waters is the Carolina Distinct Population Segment, which is listed as endangered. In North Carolina, the Albemarle Sound, most likely the Roanoke River population, has between 16 and 22 adult individuals,” said Andy Herndon, biologist with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, or NOAA, Fisheries.

“Adult spawning runs of Atlantic sturgeon are still not completely understood. In rivers from Georgia to the Chesapeake Bay, scientists have confirmed that adult sturgeon spawn during the late summer and fall. In rivers from Delaware to Canada, adults spawn in the spring and early summer,” he said.

“Shortnose sturgeon live in rivers and coastal waters from Canada to Florida. They hatch in the freshwater of rivers and spend most of their time in the estuaries of these rivers. Unlike Atlantic sturgeon, shortnose sturgeon tend to spend relatively little time in the ocean. When they do enter marine waters, they generally stay close to shore. In the spring, adults move far upstream and away from saltwater, to spawn. After spawning, the adults move rapidly back downstream to the estuaries, where they feed, rest, and spend most of their time,” he said.

Currently, shortnose sturgeon are found in 41 rivers and bays along the East Coast, spawning in 19 of those rivers and comprising three “metapopulations,” or reproductively isolated groups, Herndon said. These three metapopulations include the Carolinian Province, or southern metapopulation; the Virginian Province, or mid-Atlantic metapopulation; and Acadian Province, or northern metapopulation.

In North Carolina, shortnose sturgeon are currently found in the Roanoke and Cape Fear rivers, as well as Albemarle Sound and Pamlico Sound. Shortnose sturgeon are considered rare in North Carolina waters.

As adults, Atlantic sturgeon travel extensively throughout the marine environment, mingling with fish from other distinct population segments. Juvenile and adult Atlantic sturgeon use estuaries for feeding throughout the year. Younger animals generally remain solely within the estuaries to feed and grow, while older animals may feed in the estuaries to feed before migrating. Like the shortnose sturgeon, Atlantic sturgeon swim far upstream, sometimes over 100 miles, in rivers to find rocky habitats in freshwater for spawning.

“Once they successfully spawn, the adults move quickly back downstream to the estuaries. The eggs they left behind hatch, and the larvae mature as they slowly move downstream toward the estuaries. Once they reached the estuary, the larvae are now more fully developed and considered ‘young of the year.’ They generally remain in the estuary for two to three years to continue to grow and mature before eventually heading into the marine environment,” Herndon said.

Shortnose sturgeon have a very similar life history as the Atlantic sturgeon. The primary difference is shortnose sturgeon enter the marine environment infrequently compared to Atlantic sturgeon. Shortnose sturgeon spend the majority of their lives in their natal river systems.

“Sturgeon present in North Carolina waters are bottom feeders that use their four barbels to search for food in the sandy, muddy bottom of rivers. They use a vacuum-like mouth to suck up this bottom-dwelling food, typically eating invertebrates such as insects, crustaceans, worms and mollusks. Atlantic sturgeon may even feed on bottom-dwelling fish such as sand lance,” Herndon said.

Although neither Atlantic nor shortnose sturgeon can be targeted by fishermen, threats remain that continue to affect recovery efforts. Bycatch in commercial fisheries and increased industrial uses such as hydropower, nuclear power and treated sewage discharge into coastal rivers during the 20th century became the primary barriers to Atlantic and shortnose sturgeon recovery.

The management of sturgeon in North Carolina waters is a partnership between state and federal resource managers. NOAA Fisheries has the primary lead in promoting recovery and conservation of sturgeon with respect to their listing under the federal Endangered Species Act.

The North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission is the state agency tasked with managing and conserving threatened and endangered species in North Carolina. They also play a significant role in helping to manage and conserve sturgeon.

The North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries is also a partner in the conservation of sturgeon as they collect information on the species occurrence, and work to reduce sturgeon bycatch in state fisheries. The North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries in 1991 made it illegal to possess sturgeon from North Carolina waters.

“We believe that one of the best ways to help save these amazing species is by getting the word out through outreach. Our scientists are working with students and teachers to learn more about the movements, behavior, and threats to Atlantic and shortnose sturgeons along the East Coast. The Students Collaborating to Undertake Tracking Efforts for Sturgeon (SCUTES) program provides lesson plans, educational kits, and an opportunity for classrooms to adopt a tagged sturgeon,” Herndon said.

Learn more about the SCUTES Program.

As darkness began to drape around the remnants of a dying orange sunset, the ferry boat captain slowly spun the boat around and left the protection of the harbor. A small group of us were headed to Cape Lookout National Seashore to view the historic lighthouse completely illuminated with bright lights as a special treat during the Christmas holiday season.

We had barely left the harbor when the first mate said, “dolphins ahead,” in a hushed yet excited tone. Everyone was protected from the cold evening breeze in heavy coats, caps and facemasks, leaving only their eyes exposed. The mild winds created only small waves on the surface of the water, making it easy to locate the dolphins. In silence, we drifted along, and the dolphins came closer to the boat, their dorsal fins slicing the water. A few yards from the boat, the bulbous head of a dolphin surfaced, exhaling air in a fine mist. Muffled under her mask and through happy tears, a woman softly exclaimed in awe, “you can hear them breathing.” In a testimony of nature, hardened layers of defenses dissolved, opening our emotions in a millisecond.

In the distance, the dolphins evaporated into the waves and the captain pushed down on the throttles. I could feel the ferry lifted up on the water. I have felt the sensation of a boat rising and getting on plane thousands of times without giving it much thought. But on this night, it gave me the felling of home, of being on the water, on the sounds and back on the barrier islands. These are places I am familiar with, where I have had the great fortune to work and play for most of my life. The sand dunes, maritime forests, salt marsh, beaches, mud flats, the waters of the sound and, of course, the mighty, mighty ocean. But I had missed these places more than I had known and the simple motion of a boat rising on the water caused my emotions to flood like an incoming tide on a full moon.

For 14 months, I, along with my wife Bright Walker, had vanished from this familiarity. A familiarity of the common place that urged us to venture away and explore the great beauty and wildlife that was unfamiliar to us.

We headed west, straight to Colorado, where we hiked and drove high into the Rocky Mountains. We saw, moose, elk, big-horn sheep and mountain goats. Down in the valleys we saw burrowing owls, prairie dogs and rattle snakes. We went to places of great geologic beauty, including Zion, Bryce, Arches and Painted Desert National Parks. We were able to venture into the sacred Antelope Canyon of the Navajo Tribe in Arizona. A lot of our time was spent in Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks, where we headed out early every morning for months. We found great gray and pigmy owls, golden eagles, coyotes, badgers, foxes, weasels, pronghorn, bison and moose. Our observations of wolves and grizzly bears were so profound and personal to me that I have no way of adequately expressing it. There were countless emotional, spiritual and healing moments that nourished our soul almost daily — a truly profound experience.

Then it was time to come home, and sadness washed over us. We didn’t want to leave. These magical places were flirting with us, trying to steal our hearts.

You can go home again

As we traveled east, crossing the Mississippi River, I thought of the journey of the “Great River” traveling to the Gulf of Mexico and how our journey was now leading us home to coastal North Carolina. The title of the Thomas Wolfe novel, “You Can’t Go Home Again,” popped into my mind. I’m not a literary expert, by any means, but I think it relates to change and expectations. Once you leave a place, changes that may have occurred cause you to feel unfulfilled when you return.

We were greeted back on North Carolina coast with a warm, moist hug on a hot, humid and sticky July day. The cool, crisp, dry air that we had grown accustomed to was far behind us, 2,400 miles west, on the elevated slopes of Jackson, Wyoming. We settled back into the familiarity of the coast and took it for granted. But after being home for a while, we began to realize and appreciate the simple things of coastal life that we had missed. Our senses feasted on the banquet before us.

Trips to the barrier islands brought back the sounds hanging in the air, waiting for us to hear. Least terns flying over a nesting area, a hopeful laughing gull circling the sand, or a clapper rail yapping in the marsh — different voices reflected the mood of the ocean, from melancholy to contrary. You could hear it in the surging waves. The salty taste of the ocean could also be felt and smelled in the fine mist created by crashing waves. Sunsets filled our eyes, reflecting a crimson glow on the marsh with the silhouette of   ancient live oaks trees lining the shore. I agree with the poet, Joyce Kilmer, a poem is not as “lovely as a tree.”

Yes, Mr. Wolfe, you can come back home again, and it is as glorious as ever.

So, just like our trip out west, we went out looking for beauty and wildlife here at home in coastal North Carolina. We headed to the Outer Banks to look for some wayward birds that rarely frequent our coast. Learning that a snowy owl had been sighted, we hiked the sandy beaches and dunes of Bodie Island without a sighting. We then checked areas as far south as Cape Point on Hatteras Island, but no luck. So, we decided to look instead for some rough, tough shorebirds called purple sandpipers along the rock jetty at Oregon Inlet.

As we hiked to the jetty, we saw a few people with spotting scopes pointed toward the dunes. There, sitting atop a small dune, was a plume of white feathers, a high Arctic dweller on a winter sojourn to the sunny south. Snowy owls are rare in North Carolina, but every few years they show up in what is known as an irruption. This is when a number of a specific species shows up in areas that are not part of their native winter range. Snowy owls don’t usually venture south of the northern tips of the states that border Canada. Factors such as the lack of prey, competition with other owls, severe winter weather and thick snowpack will push them south in search of food.

Under bright, sunny skies, we watched the owl. It remained fairly stoic, occasionally turning its head or scratching and preening. At one point, it seemed bored and let out a big yawn. To stay warm in the deadly Arctic cold, they are thickly covered in down and feathers, making them the heaviest owl in North America. It appeared that the owl soon became overheated in the mild temperatures as it walked a foot or two to get in the shade of the beach grasses.

I’m not sure if the appearance of this owl is the sign of a true irruption year or not. There have also been sightings of a snowy owl in Hatteras Village as well as Ocracoke, but this is most likely the same bird. The last big irruption was in the winter of 2011-12, where 31 of the 50 states, including Hawaii, reported snowy owls. If you are lucky enough to see a snowy owl, please give it plenty of space and don’t cause it to flush. After traveling many miles out of their territory, they need to conserve energy, rest and focus on hunting to gain fat for their flight back north.

As we left the snowy, the setting sun gave way to a golden moon rising out of the ocean. The next morning, we were back at the Oregon Inlet jetty, hoping to see the snowy owl again and scanning the lumpy dunes to with binoculars. The owl was gone. Since we were already at the jetty, I again attempted to find the rock-hopping daredevil sandpipers.

I have been on this same jetty over the years looking for these birds but they eluded me every time. I walked along, searching every rock that had even a small patch of algae growing on it. These algae mats are where the sandpipers search for worms, snails, and small crabs to feed on. I slowly jumped from rock to rock, eventually reaching the end of the jetty. Here, covered with fuzzy green algae, was a large block of granite completely exposed by the low tide. Oblivious to the cascading water of incoming waves, three purple sandpipers were contently probing the algae for a meal among the chaos of the surging waves.

A bit of a misnomer, the purple sandpiper does not appear purple in color, but it is still a handsome bird. It is said that up close, in perfect light, you can see a sheen of purple on the wings. Another resident of the frozen North, these coastal birds venture south along the beaches as far as mid-South Carolina. As they migrate, they prefer habitat similar to the Northern rocky coastlines. Thus, here in North Carolina, they can be found along the man-made rock jetties along our coast.

The hunt for MacGillivray’s warbler

Feeling lucky that my rock hopping didn’t result in a broken leg, we headed north to look for another wandering bird in a location that didn’t require gymnastics. In the tiny coastal village of Duck, a tiny warbler had decided this tourist town would be perfect for a winter vacation.

In North America, this bird is almost exclusively found west of the Rocky Mountains and should be wintering in Central America. The town of Duck has an impressive boardwalk that goes out over the shoreline waters of Currituck Sound and through maritime shrub thickets and trees. From this boardwalk is where a MacGillivray’s warbler had been sighted.

As we walked along the wooden pathway, we noticed a downy woodpecker, a black and white warbler, an orange-crowned warbler and a few brown creepers in the trees, but nothing unusual. Unless I receive a tip about a special bird sighting, I’m not a good enough birder to notice anything unusual. But back on Dec. 3, 2020, this warbler didn’t escape the sharp eye of Nate Swick as he was birding along this same boardwalk. If it has feathers, it is unlikely to go unnoticed by Nate, author of the American Birding Association’s, “Field Guide to Birds of the Carolinas.” Nate’s reported sighting is what spurred us to find the MacGillivray’s over a month later.

Along the boardwalk we were not alone, as other birders were also searching for the elusive bird. But I had a secret weapon: My wife, Bright, is quite the wildlife spotter. We knew that this bird favored thick, dense vegetation and stays low, close to the ground. Bright stopped and began scanning for birds deep into a stand of common reed, also called phragmites. After finding a bird, she would look to see if it met the criteria: olive back, gray head, yellow belly and white eye crescents. I just stood back and let her do her thing.

About 20 minutes later, she said, “I think I found it.”

Hopping around on the ground among the stalks of the reeds was the MacGillivray’s warbler, eating ants, beetles or any bug it could find. It eventually flew to a clearing in the sun and began preening as if it knew I wanted to take some pictures. Looking at the cute little bird, I kept thinking, how did you get here?

Through an email, Nate was able to give some insight, stating, “It’s not uncommon for western species to show up in the eastern part of the continent. The reasons can be as simple as following the prevailing winds from west to east or some sort of genetic predisposition to misorientating.”

I also reached out to the inventory biologist for the North Carolina Division of Parks and Recreation, Ed Corey.

“Birds are often at the mercy of the winds,” he said. “If we have strong sustained winds during migration, individuals may be swept up and carried all the way across the country, landing wherever they can find shelter. Sometimes, these diminutive travelers only linger for a day or two while others wind up sticking around for months!”

So, it sounds like this MacGillivray’s may have fallen victim to some weather systems that blew it to the East Coast, and it decided to stay for a while. I just hope it is strong and healthy enough when it decides to migrate back to its home range. After seeing the MacGillivray’s, it was time for us to head back to our home range in Carteret County, where a couple of surprises were waiting for us there.

Seal sightings

Not long after returning from the Outer Banks, a friend texted me a picture of some tracks etched in the sand on the beach in Emerald Isle. From my years as a park ranger patrolling the beach of Bear Island, the tracks were familiar to me as those made by a seal hauling ashore to rest. A few days later, a seal was sighted resting ashore on the beach near the same area where the photo of the tracks was taken. As one would expect, this sighting attracted a curious crowd. Over a six-day period in mid-January there were seven seal sightings on the beaches along the town. From December through April, young seals are sometimes found on the Carolina beaches as they swim south, leaving the populations along the New England states. As they move down the coast, the younger seals are able to feed without competition from older, bigger adults.

Under the guidance of the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission and the Marine Mammal Stranding Project, Dale Baquer, director of the Emerald Isle Sea Turtle Patrol, coordinated the setup of a perimeter around the seal to distance excited onlookers. After traveling hundreds of miles, the seals need to get out of the water to warm up and rest.

During the six days, a team of sea turtle patrol volunteers rotated shifts and stood as sentries to protect the seal from being disturbed. According to Baquer, “Seals often frequent NC beaches this time of year as they migrate through and need a rest. We have Harp, Harbor and Gray seals visit our area. They do bite. You need to stay 150 yards from them. Do not get between them and the water, this causes them to feel threatened. They will flee before they are rested.”

Our final surprise appeared in our own backyard. Three birdfeeders had been attracting the usual chickadees and cardinals, while mourning doves and robins feed on the ground. One afternoon, there was a splash of color as a “flying rainbow” flew to the feeder from the safety of some shrubs. A male painted bunting quickly pecked out some millet and, in a flash, it was gone. We have continued to see it from time to time getting a quick meal but never staying too long. While it is not uncommon to see the spectacle of a painted bunting in the summer, a winter sighting is quite a treat.

Guided home

Back when I started this rambling story, I was on my way to visit one of my favorite places along the coast: Cape Lookout National Seashore. I have camped on the beaches here and always felt safe under a blanket of stars and at peace with the lullaby of the ocean in my ear. On this night, the diagonal black and white checkerboard painted on this famous column was illuminated with spotlights that shined like the sun. From high in the lantern room, the beacon swept across the night sky and out over the ocean.

As we walked around looking at the lighthouse from a number of vantage points, I thought about the early lighthouse keepers. Did they enjoy the solitude that I feel here or was it lonely isolation? I imagined the early keepers carrying heavy loads of whale oil up more than 200 steps before lighting the lamp that warned sailors of the deadly, shallow shoals.

In the darkness of the night, the captain gently glided the boat away from the dock and pointed its bow north. Behind us, the illuminated lighthouse reflected on the water as the vessel slowly found the deep waters of the channel. The reflection was blurred by small ripples on the water and reminded me of water depicted in some of Claude Monet’s paintings.

Up on the bow, the first mate, with a power spotlight in hand, found the reflective tape on each channel buoy as we headed north, back to Harkers Island. The night sky was now brilliant with sparkling glitter scattered across the heavens. To the east, I could see the belt of Orion, the hunter. An asterism made up of three bright stars Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka and is also known as the Three Sisters and the Three Kings. In the western horizon, I could see Jupiter and Saturn distancing from each other after the Great Conjunction in December. Then I looked to the south, and there she was, a constellation all her own, the Diamond Lady glowing on the horizon. Every 15 seconds, I could see her pulse, a pulse that has guided thousands of sailors and a pulse that will always guide me home.

Camp Oceanside began at Ocean City Beach, on Topsail Island, North Carolina, in 1955 by the Rev. Edwin E. Kirton, then rector of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Wilmington, North Carolina.

There being no camping facilities in the Diocese of East Carolina that Black youth could attend, the Rev. Kirton pursued the idea of giving Black youngsters this opportunity in this Diocese at Ocean City Beach on Topsail Island. Camp Leach, near Washington, North Carolina, was the Diocesan camp for white youngsters only.

The Rev. Kirton had taken some youngsters to Pawleys Island in South Carolina in 1953 and 1954, but the distance was too far, and the area was devastated by Hurricane Hazel.

In 1955, at the invitation of Wade H. Chestnut II and Associates, the motel and the restaurant were used for the camping sessions for two weeks during the summer.

Father Kirton and all the other Black priests in the Diocese would participate and be responsible for various aspects the camp experiences. Father Kirton was director until his retirement in 1975.

Hundreds of black youngsters in the Diocese of East Carolina who could never have done so otherwise were provided camping experiences.

This camping experience was extensive and successful because of the support and dedication of Father Kirton, the Rev. Charles Johnson, the Rev. Joseph H. Banks, and the Rev. Richard Horsley, who spent their vacations leading various camp experience areas.

With the building of the fishing pier in 1959, and the continuous demand for the motel, land adjacent to the chapel built in 1957, was donated to the Diocese by Ocean City developers to build a camp for Black youth in the Diocese.

The Ocean City developers’ based the donation on the camp’s success and accomplishments in supporting the youth from 1955 to 1959.

A dormitory was built in 1959 to house 60 boys and girls and their counselors, as well as a dining hall/activity building and cottages for the staff and priests. Two sessions were planned for the first time in 1960 due to the overwhelming attendance.

The chapel and camp were dedicated on July 17, 1960, by the Rev. Daniel W. Allen, executive secretary, acting on behalf of the retired Rev. Thomas H. Wright, D.D., Bishop of the Diocese of East Carolina, who was on a mission for the National Church in Europe.

With the retirement of Bishop Wright, his successor, Bishop Hunley A. Elebash, visited the camp yearly and carried on the enthusiastic support of Camp Oceanside. His executive secretary, the Rev. Edwin B. Jefferies Jr., was a zealous supporter of the camp and it’s director and staff.

After Rev. Kirton’s retirement, Neal Stitt of Goldsboro accepted the position of Camp Oceanside’s director. He continued in that role providing outstanding leadership for the next 10 years.

In 1985, camping facilities in the Diocese of East Carolina were integrated when Camp Leach and Camp Oceanside were closed. And under the leadership of the retired Rev. B. Sidney, Bishop of the Diocese of East Carolina, a new facility was built at the Trinity Center.

The pavilion at Trinity was named the Kirton – Chestnut Pavilion in honor and recognition of Father Edwin E. Kirton and Wade H. Chestnut II and their commitment to serving the youth of the Diocese of East Carolina for decades.

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review Online welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. The opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review Online or the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Second in a series of columns on the origins of North Carolina’s natural heritage program and the statewide network of private land trusts conservancies. Read Part 1.

North Carolina’s network of private, nonprofit land conservation organizations, known as land trusts or conservancies, has collectively protected nearly half-a-million acres in hundreds of locations across the state.

These land trusts are essential partners with public agencies dedicated to natural resource conservation and environmental protection. Fifteen of these local land trusts are operated by professional staff and each have annual operating budgets of hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Many North Carolinians are members and financial supporters of their local land trusts, which in combination have a presence throughout the state. Many of the natural areas that have been protected by land conservation trusts are accessible and popular for public visits and enjoyment.

Additionally, land trusts have arranged conservation easement management agreements with hundreds of landowners across the state. Those easement agreements permanently assure those properties will not be intensively developed in the future and the natural resources will be carefully managed and stewarded.

Few are aware that most land trusts in North Carolina are less than 30 years old. Most were established in the short time period between 1983 to 1995.

By the early 1980s, the state’s young North Carolina Natural Heritage Program had identified and documented hundreds of natural areas as refuges of some of the state’s most imperiled biodiversity and ecological treasures.

The Nature Conservancy, having established its operations in North Carolina, pledged to focus its efforts on protecting a few dozen natural areas possessing ecological attributes of national or international significance. But as a conservationist and director of the Natural Heritage Program, I was concerned for the hundreds of other important natural areas and threatened species habitat locations in North Carolina.

Those places might not rank as having national or global ecological uniqueness and importance, but certainly their preservation was crucial to saving the diverse natural heritage assets of our state and our local communities. What would become of them? If not The Nature Conservancy, who else could and would take actions to protect those many other places?

Few local land trust organizations existed in North Carolina before the 1980s.

The local Eno River Preservation Association, formed in 1966 by visionary Margaret Nygard and her allies, focused on establishing a linear state park along that river in Durham and Orange counties.

The Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy, formed in 1974 by another visionary Stan Murray with his other Appalachian Trail hiking club friends, originally focused on protecting the magnificent and ecologically-rich Roan Mountain Massif and the visual corridor of its ridgetop Appalachian Trail on the North Carolina-Tennessee state boundary.

Local, community-focused land conservation groups were scattered in a few localities, like those in Highlands, North Carolina, in the high Southern Appalachian Mountains, and also on Figure Eight Island on the Atlantic Coast.

Additionally, there had long been a history of individual visionary conservationists who had championed and organized their friends into supporting groups of advocates for the state to establish a good number of the early state parks in North Carolina such as for Hanging Rock, Pilot Mountain, Morrow Mountain, Jockeys Ridge, the New River and other parks. But while those were stellar conservation success stories, their geographic range was small and not nearly enough for what was desperately needed.

Promoting land trusts

In 1979 I authored a guidebook, “How to Form a Conservation Foundation” i.e., a land trust. At that time, North Carolina prohibited the use of the word Trust in the corporate name of any organization other than for banking and financial management institutions, this restriction was later repealed.

Those guidelines explained the benefits for forming a local or regionally focused land conservation organization, how to qualify for exemptions from federal and state income taxes, and gaining local property tax-exempt status for a public-interest charity, along with step-by-step instructions for formulating and incorporating the entity, template articles of incorporation and bylaws, and a directory to helpful references and resources.

I enrolled myself in 1982 as a charter individual member of the new national Land Trust Exchange, later renamed Land Trust Alliance. That coalition was initially formed as a means of information exchange and promotion for the relatively few local and regional land conservation organizations operating in scattered locations around the country. Most of those concentrated in the New England states, in the more populous Great Lakes coastal region, near affluent resort communities in the Northern Rocky Mountains, and on the Pacific West Coast.

In 1983, I was a member of the task force assembled by the Triangle regional council of (local) governments that designed the Triangle Land Conservancy as a regional land trust. I was inspired to form and incorporate the North Carolina Natural Heritage Foundation, or NHF, in 1984.

I envisioned that NHF could serve as a fiscal agent for the state’s Natural Heritage Program by securing needed private contributions, grants and local government contracts to help finance countywide or regional natural heritage/natural areas inventories and to finance publication of public educational guidebooks. Also, I imagined this foundation could be a vehicle to promote the establishment of other local and regional land conservancies across North Carolina.

The North Carolina State General Assembly in 1983 enacted legislation making North Carolina the first state in the nation to grant state income tax credits — dollar-for-dollar income tax reduction credits — to private landowners who donated properties or permanent conservation easements on their properties with certified natural resource assets to a qualified public agency or private land conservancy. Over time the maximum amounts of those conservation tax credits were elevated.

This incentive was a valuable means for land trusts to stimulate and induce sympathetic private landowners to willingly accept permanent easements or even to donate their properties for permanent conservation. Regardless of the success of this nationally renowned incentive that helped permanently protect 262,000 acres of North Carolina’s important environmental resources and natural areas — with an estimated foregone development value exceeding $1.6 billion — the North Carolina General Assembly’s controlling majority in 2013 terminated the program.

I authored and the Natural Heritage Program published the first edition in 1987 of the “Land Conservation Options for Natural Heritage Protection” guidebook for owners of natural areas and rural lands. The Natural Heritage Program also produced a revised edition of my original 1976 Conservation Easement guidelines for landowners, which would continue to be revised and republished over the subsequent decades.

In 1987 the state General Assembly established the North Carolina Natural Heritage Trust Fund, administered by a board of trustees appointed by the Governor, Senate President, and Speaker of the House, to award grants to state agencies to purchase natural areas and parklands.

The fund was financed by a substantial share of the State’s excise tax on land property sales and from fees on personalized vehicle license plates and their annual renewal fees. The Natural Heritage Fund provided vital financing, matched by other private funds, that produced land acquisitions and expansion of a robust network of state parks, nature preserves, wildlife management areas, state forests, coastal nature reserves over the near 22 lifespan of this important program.

Reactionary political forces gained control of the State General Assembly, which in the early 2010s terminated the Natural Heritage Fund, killed the State’s national-model Land Conservation Tax Credit program, and substantially reduced funding for the Natural Heritage Program and for most of the rest of the state’s land conservation and environmental protection programs.

Laying the groundwork

While managing the North Carolina Natural Heritage Program, I organized a series of how-to instructional workshops for people interested in establishing local land trusts. Beginning in the spring of 1989 and over the next several years, the North Carolina Natural Heritage Foundation organized a series of training workshops for beginning land trusts. These assemblies of individuals involved in starting or conceiving new land trusts served to bond together a fraternity of originators of young land trusts with a sense of common purpose and shared alliance.

In the spring of 1991, I was summarily fired by administrators of the North Carolina Department of Environment and Natural Resources, or NCDENR, ostensibly for protesting violations of natural heritage areas conservation agreements by the US Forest Service, ending my 15-year tenure as manager of the State’s Natural Heritage Program. I won my lawsuit against the state for “wrongful dismissal” but by then had moved on in my pursuits. NCDENR is now the state Department of Environmental Quality.

The silver-lining to this episode in my life was that I was provided opportunity and incentive to reinvent myself and to reorganize and reorient the existing North Carolina Natural Heritage Foundation. With concurrence of its board of directors, I was hired in 1991 as the North Carolina Natural Heritage Foundation’s first executive director. We immediately amended our articles of incorporation and renamed the organization to become the Conservation Trust for North Carolina in early 1992.

The Conservation Trust initiated a series of meetings and instructional seminars for what by group consensus was called the North Carolina Land Trusts Network. Actively participating in these foundational dialogues in 1991-92 were representatives from a dozen young local land trusts. This informal network of regional and locally focused land conservancies reached concurrence in 1993 to form the North Carolina Land Trusts Council, which was coordinated by the Conservation Trust.

With grants received from Fred Stanback, the Blumenthal family foundation, the Mary Reynolds Babcock Foundation and the Z. Smith Reynolds Foundation, we were ready to grow the Conservation Trust to being the statewide incubator and service center for what we envisioned would become a statewide network of strong, professionally staffed private land trusts. That vision came true.

I assisted Camilla Herlevich in the 1991-93 time period in organizing and establishing the North Carolina Coastal Land Trust, with both of us serving on the boards of directors of our respective organizations. Camilla retired at the end of 2020 with merited accolades for her career as founding director of that successful land trust, which has protected over 80,000 acres in North Carolina’s coastal region.

The Conservation Trust for North Carolina, or CTNC, served as the umbrella information clearinghouse and exchange, and assistance-providing service center for North Carolina’s land trusts. On behalf of that community of land trusts, CTNC moved forward to help educate the North Carolina public and decisionmakers about the growth of the land trust movement.

We explained that land trusts represented and fulfilled the concerns of people across the state who realize they could save important community green, open spaces and natural areas, valued streamways and greenways, wildlife habitats, historic and culturally treasured rural landscapes, public water supply watersheds, urban gardens and waterfronts, hiking and walking and biking trails, scenic vistas, and other important outdoor recreational areas.

We attempted to impress the public that, while national groups including The Nature Conservancy were doing important environmental protection work, North Carolina’s home-grown land trusts who focused at the “grassroots” local level merited their support to save the natural areas, green spaces, and rural landscapes most valued and beneficial to their local communities.

The 10 years from 1984 to 1995 saw the births and burgeoning growth of private land trusts across North Carolina. The most active land trusts have been the following:

• Blue Ridge Conservancy, a merger of two land trusts High Country Land Conservancy and Blue Ridge Rural Land Trust, established 1995, blueridgeconservancy.org.
• Catawba Land Conservancy established 1991, catawbalands.org.
• Conserving Carolina, a merger of two land trusts – Carolina Mountain Land Conservancy, established 1994 and Piedmont Land Conservancy, established 1990, conservingcarolina.org.
• Conservation Trust for North Carolina, established 1984 and reorganized 1992, ctnc.org.
• Eno River Preservation Association, established  1966, enoriver.org.
• Foothills Conservancy of North Carolina, established 1995, foothillsconservancy.org.
• Highlands-Cashiers Land Trust, 1883 derivation, reorganized 1992, hicashlt.org.
• Mainspring Conservation Trust, established 1999 as Nikwasi Land Trust and later named Little Tennessee Land Trust mainspringconserves.org.
• New River Conservancy, established 1974, newriverconservancy.org.
• NC Coastal Land Trust, established 1992, coastallandtrust.org.
• Piedmont Land Conservancy, established 1990, piedmontland.org.
• Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy, established 1974, appalachian.org.
• Tar River Conservancy, established 1983, tarriver.org.
• Three Rivers Land Trust, a merger of Land Trust for Central NC, established 1995, and Sandhills Area Land Trust, established 1991, threeriverslandtrust.org.
• Triangle Land Conservancy, established 1983, triangleland.org.

I had the privilege of directing and growing the Conservation Trust for North Carolina for 12 years. During my tenure as its director, the Conservation Trust established and administered programs assisting and advancing the network of private land trusts, including the following:

• Annual assemblies of North Carolina’s land trusts and their allies with ongoing training, seminars, dialogues, information exchange and strengthened collaboration.
• Grant funding to land trusts for protection of streams and clean water, enabled by successive grants to CTNC from the North Carolina Clean Water Management Trust Fund and from other private sources.
• Grant funding to land trusts for farmland conservation from the North Carolina Farmland Preservation Program, for which CTNC secured original funding from the state General Assembly and was contracted by the North Carolina Department of Agriculture to administer in its initial years of operation.
• Direct financial assistance to local land trusts for their organizational development, public outreach, landowner education, land conservation planning, demonstration projects and long-range planning.
• Revolving loan program to land trusts assisting them with initial protection projects transactional costs and to match public funds for land and easement acquisitions.
• A statewide public awareness campaign to build recognition of all land trusts.
• Advocacy and lobbying for more public funding and conducive public policies for land conservation, including the state’s environmental trust funds, the state’s income tax credits to donors of land for conservation, and the One Million Acres Land Protection Land Protection goal.

I was succeeded as CTNC’s executive director in 2002 by Reid Wilson, who went on later to be appointed by Governor Roy Cooper in his first term as deputy director of the NC Department of Natural and Cultural Resources and has been elevated to secretary of that department in the Governor’s second term.

North Carolina’s land trusts have led the way in saving many of our state’s extraordinary environmental assets and natural heritage. I subscribe to the concept, as environmental historian William Cronon well-articulated, “Land trusts are in the business not just of conserving lands, but of conserving the human values those lands embody…. We protect natural areas and open space because they stand for some of our most dearly held values.”

Every one of North Carolina’s land trust has its own creation story and account of its land conservation and community engagement successes. The success stories of each of our state’s land conservation trusts merit to be widely known and recognized.

Next in the series: North Carolina’s million acres protection goal finally achieved by end of 2020.

First in a series of columns on the origins of North Carolina’s natural heritage program and the statewide network of private land trusts conservancies.

While there is presently justified cause for feeling pessimistic about the future of our world’s natural and environmental health, we should retain a sense of hope and purpose in continuing efforts to protect nature and defend our environment.

Looking back on the battles fought and successes achieved over the past 50 years of the good fight for environmental protection since the great public awakening of the original Earth Day in 1970, we should recognize how far we have come and how much has been achieved. The war is yet to be won. We have lost battles and suffered setbacks, but we are not about to retreat. There are compelling motivations for us to renew and rededicate our efforts to fight on to protect our world’s natural environment and our state’s natural heritage.

When in June 1976, 45 years ago, I was hired by The Nature Conservancy (TNC) to initiate the formation of North Carolina’s Natural Heritage Program, I had little image of how far our state would progress and how many milestones would be achieved in efforts to preserve our premiere and threatened land, biota and environmental assets.

I was selected to start the program as I completed my graduate degree in regional planning at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill and concluded my research on alternative ways to conserve natural areas and rural lands in North Carolina. TNC took a chance on employing a student of environmental planning and public policy to head this new program, on my pledge to hire a staff team composed of some of the best, young conservation biologists in the state, which I did.

These were enlightened times in America’s awakening to the dimensions of environmental losses and threats, and the necessity to defend and protect our natural environment. The national leadership of The Nature Conservancy had adopted a new strategic plan returning it to is originating roots when first formed in the 1950s by the union of ecological scientists, whereby TNC would restructure its land conservation priorities to be guided by science and would strive to protect the “best of the last” as refuges of America’s most threatened species and ecosystems.

TNC’s brilliant and mercurial science program director, Dr. Bob Jenkins, envisioned that TNC could persuade all states to establish programs that would amass and maintain inventories of habitat locations of all rare and threatened species of animals and plants and go on to define and prioritize each states’ most important remaining natural areas. TNC’s strategy was first to initiate natural heritage programs and next to establish its field offices in all states. TNC would thereby focus its land-protection efforts primarily upon the priorities identified and recommended by the states’ natural heritage programs.

By the 1970s, many of North Carolina’s premiere natural areas were in jeopardy of destruction. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service estimated that half of North Carolina’s former wetlands had been drained, filled and eliminated.

By the 1970s, many of North Carolina’s premiere natural areas were in jeopardy of destruction. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service estimated that half of North Carolina’s former wetlands had been drained, filled and eliminated. Its longleaf pine forests that once dominated millions of acres of our state’s coastal plain region had been reduced to only a tiny fraction of its original expanse. Its piedmont native grasslands and savannas were nearly all eliminated. And, likewise, many other natural ecosystems had been destroyed, damaged or diminished. Hundreds of native plants and animal species – equating to a tenth of the whole diversity of vascular plant species and nearly one-fifth of the animal species in our state – were in jeopardy of elimination.

The 1970s were when the nation finally awakened to the perils of environmental degradation, with a flurry of national legislation and presidential executive orders intended to reduce unfettered pollution of our waters and air, to evaluate environmental impacts of proposed land development projects, to form the federal Environmental Protection Agency, to save endangered species, and to become wiser and more careful stewards of our public lands and natural resources.

North Carolinians had overwhelmingly passed by popular referendum a state constitutional amendment declaring it a basic responsibility for the state to act in defense of its natural environment. The North Carolina General Assembly responded with enactment of water and air pollution-control legislation, the Coastal Area Management Act – although the companion Mountain Area Management legislation failed to pass – and other environmental protection actions.

North Carolina’s state leadership in the mid-1970s was receptive to TNC’s concept and contracted with TNC to establish and operate the new North Carolina Natural Heritage Program, to be turn-keyed over to become a state agency program within several years. In North Carolina, this was the time of a progressive Republican, Gov. James Holshouser, and his lead agency executives, Jim Harrington and Dr. Art Cooper of the then-Department of Environment, Natural Resources and Community Development, were expanding the system of state parks and natural areas, establishing the state’s marine resource centers and aquaria, and implementing the new Coastal Area Management Act that included defining coastal areas of environmental concern and a new system of protected coastal reserves.

We in North Carolina pioneered in inventing a methodology for rating and prioritizing the rarity and vulnerability of individual imperiled species and their habitats, which was soon adopted nationwide by The Nature Conservancy and by other states’ natural heritage programs.

I had the opportunity and honor to build and, for its first 15 years, to direct the North Carolina Natural Heritage Program. Our mission was to identify and prioritize those places most important to save and retain the premiere ecological resources of North Carolina. This was the first comprehensive, methodical approach and attempt to inventory the state’s biological diversity and natural assets.

After hiring a fine team of conservation biologists, we set forth to assemble and maintain a statewide database on the locations and relative health and status of populations of the state’s most imperiled and rarest species and its natural ecosystems, which we called “natural communities.” Our charge was to take stock of our state’s remaining natural areas and native species habitats and then devise strategies to protect and sustain the most outstanding components of our natural heritage.

We in North Carolina pioneered in inventing a methodology for rating and prioritizing the rarity and vulnerability of individual imperiled species and their habitats, which was soon adopted nationwide by The Nature Conservancy and by other states’ natural heritage programs. We also pioneered as one of the first states to define and identify our extraordinary range of natural communities and ecosystems. We quickly devised and launched a program of education and voluntary conservation agreements that informed landowners about the significance and conservation management needs of natural areas in their ownership.

The Natural Heritage Program is now part of the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources Department and in the Division of Land and Water Stewardship. The North Carolina Natural Heritage Program has amassed a database on more than 30,918 locations of imperiled or rare species and exemplary natural communities. Its database is used more than 3,000 times annually for land use and development decisions, conservation planning and research projects, and its database website is consulted over 22,000 times each year.

In 1979, we created the state’s registry of protected natural areas, first through state administrative rule, and undertook a systematic effort to educate landowners and negotiate voluntary conservation management agreements with both public agencies and private owners of exceptionally important natural areas. Already by 1990, over 280 natural areas had been registered as voluntarily protected by their owners, ranging from numerous individual and corporate property owners to the U.S. Forest Service, Army, Air Force and Marine Corps, those including dozens of natural areas defined for conservation management in Croatan National Forest, Fort Bragg, Dare Bombing Range and Camp Lejeune.

The Natural Heritage Program and its registry of natural areas were formalized in 1985 with enactment of the North Carolina Nature Preserves Act, which passed the General Assembly only one vote short of unanimous concurrence by both legislative chambers. That law also created the state’s system of dedicated nature preserves — essentially with the state holding permanent conservation easement use restrictions and management agreements with the public and private owners of important natural areas. Each dedicated nature preserve entails a permanent conservation management agreement with the landowner, and each is approved by the governor and Council of State. Any alteration to a nature preserve agreement requires approval by the governor and Council of State.

Today, the number of recorded site occurrences of rare and threatened species tracked by the North Carolina Natural Heritage Program exceeds 30,000, and nearly 2,500 natural areas are rated as possessing ecological assets of high significance. By the fall of 2020, 184 areas embracing more than 440,000 acres have been formally dedicated into the state’s system of nature preserves. Another 355 areas covering a total of more than 743,000 acres, including national park lands, are currently enrolled on the state’s natural areas registry with voluntary landowner conservation agreements.

While too many of our state’s ecological treasures have been lost or remain in peril, many of our extraordinary natural areas have been protected and sanctuaries have been reserved for many of our most threatened species. Since the formation of the North Carolina Natural Heritage Program in 1976, more than 1.5 million acres have been protected and conserved statewide.

The Nature Conservancy committed its efforts to protect a few dozen of our state’s most important natural areas – a goal that it has nearly achieved. But who would and could protect the many hundreds of other places that contain and sustain our state’s many ecological assets and natural heritage treasures? That challenge became my own personal mission … and the story of the growth of North Carolina’s statewide network of private land conservancies, known generally as land trusts, was launched.

While still at the helm of the state’s Natural Heritage Program, I founded in 1984 the private, nonprofit North Carolina Natural Heritage Foundation, which advocated for and provided training assistance to local groups and dedicated instigators to form what would eventually become the statewide network of private land trusts. I authored or coauthored first editions of guidebooks for how to organize private land trusts and explaining land conservation options and sources of assistance for landowners.

In spring 1991, after heading the North Carolina Natural Heritage Program for 15 years, I earned my badge of courage by being fired by state agency heads for too passionately defending environmental resources and being too “green.” Newspaper editorials across the state protested my termination, and I eventually won my lawsuit for wrongful dismissal, but by then a good friend had been hired to move to North Carolina and direct the program for its next 18 years.

Immediately after my exit from state employment in 1991, I became the executive director of the Conservation Trust for North Carolina, which was redesigned from the former Natural Heritage Foundation. CTNC first served as the incubator and then as the service center for North Carolina’s community of regional and local land trusts. The several dozen private land trusts working collaboratively across our state have collectively protected many hundreds of natural areas and more than half a million acres as treasures of North Carolina’s natural heritage. More of their inspiring stories deserve to be told and merit greater public awareness and honor.

Much has been accomplished but much more needs to be done to safeguard, steward and defend North Carolina’s still imperiled natural environment and natural heritage.

Next in the series: The origins and growth of land trusts in North Carolina.

The word “shark” conjures fear in many people, but these important large predators serve a critical role in the ecosystems in which they live.

Most sharks do not pose a threat toward people who venture into their domain. In fact, the sand tiger shark is one reason why so many scuba divers from across the world visit North Carolina’s “Graveyard of The Atlantic” – to dive with and photograph these magnificent animals that call the region’s shipwrecks their home.

National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration marine ecologists and their colleagues from the North Carolina Aquariums and South-East Zoo Alliance for Reproduction and Conservation sent remotely operated vehicles, or ROVs, to study and videotape how sand tiger shark presence related to reef fish on six Atlantic shipwrecks.

“We found that where the sand tiger sharks were present there was a higher variety of reef fish present that created a halo effect surrounding the sharks,” said National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration ecologist Avery Paxton.

“Slowly cruising sand tiger sharks can act as a predation refugia, a large structure to hide behind during major predation periods on the reef. We filmed and observed mackerel scad schooling in close to sand tigers when we first dove the (wreck of the) USS Tarpon, we observed this association to change depending on time of day,” said Richard Gilmore Jr., senior scientist with Estuarine, Coastal and Ocean Science Inc. and a noted shark researcher. “We put our ROV on the bottom adjacent to the wreck for nearly an entire day at a time and watched the change in sand tiger behavior and the fish associated with them, actually surrounding the shark body until an hour or two after sunset.”

“We could do this as we used SIT (Silicon Intensified Cameras) on our Super Phantom ROV. The SIT cameras were special low-illumination cameras that allow viewing underwater during extreme low-light periods. There is no color, but you can see sand tiger behavior clearly at depths of 150 feet in clear water up to 60-90 minutes after sunset before astronomical twilight,” Gilmore said.

“What we discovered was that the mackerel scad would move closer to the shark as the sun set. There is higher predation during the crepuscular (twilight) period. We also actually filmed little tunny and common amberjack diving through the scad around sunset and afterwards. This is a typical period for densely schooling prey species to seek shelter on a reef or shallower nearshore waters where predators cannot get below them,” he said.

Gilmore said the scad were clearly using sand tiger sharks as a refuge from predators.

“We actually filmed the scad leaving the wreck and swimming up around the sand tiger’s body as the shark neared the wreck, then leaving the shark as it swam away from the wreck,” he said.

New research has shown that sand tiger sharks actually invoke changes to local fish species that are found on these same shipwrecks.

“We saw a lot of midwater-column species, including large jacks, barracuda and small silvery fish, hanging around the sharks. We discovered that sand tiger sharks play an important ecological role on shipwrecks by impacting the variety of reef fish seen at the same time,” Paxton said.

“On wrecks where there were no sharks, we saw a higher number of bottom-dwelling species, such as grouper and sea bass,” she said.

“Unlike other sharks, the sand tiger shark is holding sentinel over these shipwrecks off North Carolina. It surprised me how dramatically the reef fish species varied on wrecks when the sharks were not there,” said NOAA ecologist Chris Taylor.

Sand tigers are the top predator that balances the flora and fauna of the reef, analogous to the wolves of Yellowstone controlling elk populations or in Canada “keeping the caribou strong” as the Inuit say, or lions on the Serengetti controlling antelope and hyena populations, Gilmore said.

“Our team’s research has shown sand tiger sharks are important  to maintain a diversity of species on shipwrecks,” said Paxton. “They create a fascinating ecological mix of small, large and colorful species of fish all over the wrecks, making the shipwrecks an oasis for marine life.”

The Lore of Diving with Sand Tiger Sharks

Divers from across the world have been visiting North Carolina for more than 40 years for the plethora of shipwrecks found off the state’s coast, but for many, it is the sand tiger sharks seen on the same wrecks year after year that lure them.

“North Carolina was a destination I and a couple of my buddies wanted to visit for the last two years. It is within driving distance from Massachusetts and Connecticut and is what we would consider warm-water diving. Wrecks and sharks in the Morehead City area were the two big attractions we came to see,” said Massachusetts diver Denis Erofeyev.

“We got to see younger and faster sand tiger sharks inside some of the wrecks, such as the Aeolus, and much larger ones outside of the wreck of Caribsea. At the Caribsea, we swam inside with a group of 10 to 12 sharks that were all 6 to 7 feet long,” he said. “I didn’t do a whole lot of research on the species before the trip, so I was just excited to see sharks I haven’t seen before. During a two-hour ride to our first dive at the Aeolus, other divers told us about the ‘shark room’ and sharks swimming right at you in the corridors, which was exactly what happened, and I was thrilled to be in the water with them. I was amazed how unafraid they are of the humans. I would go there again to get more time in the water with them,” said Erofeyev.

“However, if Denis decided to touch one of them as one of our photographers did, he would experience a bite reflex that aquarists know well. It may be painful,” Gilmore said.

Sand tiger sharks do not get spooked or show much interest in divers, “but they know you are there,” said technical diver, Michael MacDonald.

They are docile until you touch one, he added.

“Sand tiger sharks make excellent photography subjects since they are not spooked easily.  I just enjoy watching them and you can often get very close to them. They often swim with their mouths open and you can get really nice shots of them with their mouth and rows of teeth exposed,” he said.

Long-term observations that continued into the night helped researchers conclude that sand tiger sharks are active nocturnal feeders and mate at night. The hypothesis is supported by observations by commercial fishermen, ROV recordings that showed increased swimming speeds — sharks chasing sharks — after sunset and increased incidence of mating scars on the same individual after a night between filming periods.

“Males are as scared as females as this is the only shark that I know of that keeps males at bay until they want to mate, and they all mate on the same night. The Sidney Aquarium observations from decades ago indicated that there was an alpha male that mated first,” Gilmore explained.

The large presence of wrecks off the North Carolina coast make for a fantastic dive destination, MacDonald said.

“A large amount of the wrecks are World War II-era and many have a history attached to them. While I prefer natural wrecks, North Carolina has also sunken many artificial wrecks (the Aeolus and Spar). These wrecks are teaming with marine life, huge bait balls and often large schools of sand tiger sharks, said MacDonald. “I firmly believe that when the conditions in North Carolina are good, it is some of the best diving in the United States.”

MacDonald said he usually visits North Carolina in late May to early June, when the water is still relatively cold by North Carolina standards but comfortable compared to New England waters and visibility is 50-60 feet on the offshore wrecks.

“While May can sometimes be early for sand tigers, we have always had pretty good luck,” he said.

On one trip in late May 2013 he said there must have been more than 100 sand tiger sharks on the Spar. It was a memorable experience seeing a wall of sharks, he said.

In 2018, while diving at the Papoose, there was a similar experience with 30 to 50 or more sand tiger sharks along with dusky and bull sharks, he said.

Generally, May through October is the best time to see sand tigers off North Carolina. June and July are also good. Later in the summer and early fall can also yield results but being peak hurricane season, divers are more likely to miss days of diving due to weather. By late June, the Gulf Stream has moved closer to shore and visibility can often be 70-100 feet or more on a lot of the offshore wrecks, MacDonald said.

Sand Tiger Shark Biology

Sand tiger sharks are found in all warm-temperate and temperate waters throughout the world. The sand tiger shark does not occur in the tropics. It does not occur in estuaries south of Cape Hatteras as adults, only to the north in the Chesapeake, Delaware and Narragansett bays.

In North Carolina, It’s long been known that there was a southern migration of sand tigers from waters north of Cape Hatteras. “However, our studies showed that it was the male sand tigers that migrated to North Carolina wrecks south of Cape Hatteras, all the way to east Florida to mate during the winter. The females never migrated,” said Gilmore. “We had groups of females that we sampled all year off east central Florida in the same area.”

Sand tigers are bulky in appearance with a flattened round, pointed snout. Their eyes are small and do not have eyelids. They have three erect functional rows of narrow anterior upper and lower jaw teeth used to grasp and swallow prey, not to cut or attack anything they could not swallow.

Sand tiger teeth are distinct in that the sand tiger can only consume small prey. It cannot cut prey with flat, serrated upper jaw teeth as seen in bull, sandbar, dusky and other common sharks.

Also, sand tigers will surface and gulp air to help balance their buoyancy.

“This species is usually harmless toward humans during regular daytime activities, but at night, sand tiger sharks become aggressive predators and have been known to attack a diver’s video light or dive light, apparently mistaking dive lights for the bioluminescent trail of a fleeing fish,” Gilmore said.

“Many nocturnal predators key on and chase “biological light,” produced by swimming fish disturbing microscopic plankton that produce light when disturbed, like aquatic fireflies. This is bioluminescence. But they certainly do like to feed voraciously in groups at night. Ask the croaker and net fishermen off Hatteras,” he said.

Sand tigers have two dorsal fins that are just about the same size. Nurse and lemon sharks both share this trait and are also found off North Carolina, but other than the dorsal fin similarity, nurse and lemon sharks look nothing like sand tiger sharks. The fin structure and body shape of the sand tiger makes them very easy to identify. Sand tigers have a distinctive “hump” on their backs that no other shark in local waters will feature.

Sexual maturity for males is reached when the shark is about 6 feet in length, or 6-7 years of age. Females mature when they grow to about 7 feet in length or reach 9-10 years old. Females give birth to a single pup from each of two uteri, who will devour their siblings in utero.

“They are the only shark species known to do this. They also feed on unfertilized eggs until a month of two before birth. All the lamnoid sharks (makos, great whites, threshers) feed on uterine eggs. We call this oophagy. Most sharks do not reproduce this way. Many reproduce like us, with a placenta and nourishment directly from the mother through the uterine membrane. Bull sharks have a little belly button when born where the placenta had attached. However, there was not doctor to tie it off, it closed and healed naturally,” Gilmore said.

“Mating is thought to take place between late March and April, with an average litter of two pups one from each uterus,” said Kate Goggin, a NOAA representative.

Female sand tiger sharks captured south of Cape Hatteras in studies were always pregnant if they were mature females resident in permanent spawning populations between June and November, Gilmore said.

“Every year males would show up on the North Carolina wrecks during the winter and spring and be lacerated by females and females lacerated by males. These were the obvious mating scars observed every year. No other shark that we know of shows mating scars on males. The sand tiger always does. These scars can heal within a month or two. We have documented that. They heal very quickly. You have to be there when they are mating,“ Gilmore said.

Catching Sand Tigers Prohibited by Federal Law

It is illegal to harvest a sand tiger shark. NOAA says, “If you don’t know, let it go.” This refers to sand tiger sharks and several other commonly encountered but prohibited shark species found in the U.S. Atlantic, Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean. The list includes great white, dusky, bigeye thresher, sand tiger and longfin mako, to name but a few.

NOAA suggests practicing the following safe catch-and-release practices if you happen to hook a shark:

• To maximize survival, keep the shark in the water. Use heavy fishing tackle to minimize the amount of time you spend fighting the shark. This will increase the shark’s chances of surviving the encounter.
• Do not gaff a shark that you plan on letting go. Use the leader to hold the shark at boat-side with its head underwater facing into the current.
• Remove hooks by using a dehooking tool. If you cannot remove the hook, or if removing it would cause harm to either you or the animal, cut the leader as close to the hook as safety allows to minimize any and all training gear that could adversely impact the shark once released. You can also use bolt cutters and remove the hook itself.
• When releasing the shark, let water flow through its gill slits by moving the animal forward in the water, or by placing the shark so the current flows toward its head until its energy returns.

Citizen Scientists Wanted

Spot a Shark USA is a citizen science program led by the North Carolina Aquariums to engage divers in sand tiger shark research and conservation. Photos of sharks you submit to SpotASharkUSA.com help solve mysteries about these imperiled sharks.

How do you photograph a shark for this project? Position yourself at a right angle either the left or right side of the shark, being careful to not block or alter the sharks behavior swimming through the water column.

The North Carolina Aquariums ask that you try to include the entire side of the sand tiger shark in your photos. Make sure your best photos are submitted that clearly show the sharks spots and markings including scars on the animal.

If you find yourself in a school of sand tigers, focus your attention on one animal at a time and do not try for super-wide-angle photos, but rather get single shark side-view images that show the body markings clearly.

Here’s how the project works: Photograph individual sand tiger sharks, post your images on SpotASharkUSA.com, where researchers will then try to identify each animal.

This is your opportunity as citizen scientists and avid lovers of the sea to make a difference and help protect and conserve the magnificent sand tiger shark.

Reprinted from Island Free Press

Due to the relatively new and welcome addition of oyster farms in our estuarine system, this cherished bivalve is available year round, even when there is no “R” in a month.

But “the season” continues to be heralded with excitement and celebration. It represents a time for communities to bundle up and gather in our quiet time to catch up, to warm our hearts, and to slurp salty oysters as we also warm our hands and tummies over an open fire and a steaming pile of oysters.

Seven years ago, the North Carolina Coastal Federation hosted their first annual Hatteras Island Oyster Roast along the docks in Hatteras village.

There was some slight concern that it may not be the ideal site because who wants to come to Hatteras in the winter? Well, it turns out, a lot of oyster lovers do!

It has become not only a lucrative fundraiser for the Coastal Federation, but just as importantly, a highly anticipated social gathering and a key promotional tool for the work of the organization that is dedicated to clean water. (Editor’s note: Supporting the Coastal Federation also supports Coastal Review Online.)

This year’s “Shellebration of Clean Water” sold out a full two weeks before the event.

Many eyes were continuously on the seven-day forecast app from www.forecast.weather.gov, and the weather cooperated again. The rain ended in the morning, and by show time, the skies, while not clear, were not dripping rain either, just as they said, It was, as many noted, “Oyster Roast Weather,” and everyone showed up.

More than 400 people plus an army of volunteers filled the parking lot at Oden’s Dock, thanks to the hospitality of Dan Oden and his family.

Federation staff, board members and volunteers worked side by side with volunteers to present a wintertime outdoor oyster feast that mimics the considerably smaller family and friends gatherings that we know and love.

This year’s oysters at the annual Hatteras Island Oyster Roast were from North Carolina, harvested from the Newport River, and coordinated and delivered from Fulcher’s Seafood.

Led by Kelsey and Taylor Aiken of Jeffrey’s Seafood, and Parc Greene, owner of Risky Business Seafood, hardy Hatterasmen spent hours transporting, cleaning and cooking oysters and delivering them piping hot and steaming to the long tables and the waiting diners, many of whom came with their own well-used oyster knives, ready to go and some even brought their favorite condiments to supplement the hot sauce and crackers provided.

Breakwater Restaurant chef Tracey Morris produced gallons and gallons of his delectable homemade, traditional Hatteras style clam chowder, and Conner’s Supermarket provided rich corn bread, an essential accompaniment and a real crowd pleaser.

This year, with a major nod to the concern over our over-dependence on plastic, rented metal spoons and ceramic cups were provided.

Friendly islanders sliced the big pans of cornbread and ladled the chowder while they got to enjoy a quick “hi” to everyone as they passed through the line. Thank you, Beth Midgett, Tracie Shisler, Ricki Shepherd, Sue Mattingly, Jennie Veal, Marcia Lyons, and Linda and Bill Lengyel for making everyone feel welcome.

It was easy to share happy greetings, since nearly everyone who was served had a big smile and a warm thank you.

Volunteers brought sweet treats for the dessert bake sale, and local artists, artisans, restaurants, and small businesses generously donated amazingly varied items for the hugely successful silent auction. This year, there was even a wine tasting for 12 on offer from Trio on the Outer Banks.

There was, as always, a burn barrel or two with local wood salvaged from recent storm damage for hand warming, (and some oyster grilling while we’re at it), provided by Jon Kelmer and tended by Jim Lyons, and even more volunteers were busily collecting and recycling the shells for restoration. Noah Dixon headed up the recycling effort for other items.

All the while, local musicians Blurky’s Quirky Friends, kept the music rolling all afternoon, adding to the jollity.

To cite a cliché: it was definitely a win-win situation.

We all had a great time feasting and visiting together. Our local Pamlico Sound got more materials for future oyster reefs, North Carolina Coastal Federation had an opportunity to showcase their success story and raise awareness to hundreds of people, as well as funds for their all-important work.

The Coastal Federation vision is “A natural, beautiful coast that is a great place to live, work, and visit.” Their stated mission: “The North Carolina Coastal Federation empowers coastal residents and visitors from all walks of life to protect and restore the water quality and critically important natural habitats of the North Carolina coast.”

Make time to visit their website and consider a membership so you too can be a part of this grassroots, truly community-oriented organization, learn about their many year-round volunteer opportunities, and receive updates on their fascinating work all along our coast. While you are there, why not Adopt-an-Oyster (or a bushel) in honor of this special event?

Crassostrea virginica, our native oysters, are vital to the ecological balance of the North Carolina waters. “In three years, your baby oyster(s) will be all grown up, filtering 50 gallons of water a day and providing a home for shrimps, crabs, and fish!”

Now, let’s explore the many ways to enjoy oysters. I informally surveyed friends to see how they like to eat or serve them and what a great response. People who love oysters really, really love ‘em and they were more than ready to enthusiastically share.

Here is a sampling of their tastes:

“Salty, ice cold, and fresh! With lemon and horseradish on the side! And sliced kiwi!” Kiwi? That’s new to me, Catherine James of Fox Watersports and local artist. Have to try it.

“Flecks of ice. Tiny splash of squeezed fresh lemon. And every third one, a single dot of Tabasco.” (Every third one, Mike Voiland, retired director of North Carolina Sea Grant? Why?)

Ice is a recurring ingredient.

Ricky Moore, chef advocate of local seafood delivered fresh from the Carolina coast, including lesser known species familiar only to natives, and owner of Saltbox Seafood Joint in two locations in Durham, likes his “raw on the half shell, served ice cold on crushed ice, so that the shell is semi buried. (I like them) with fresh traditional garnish and I enjoy them with one of my favorite Muscadet … 2014 Domaine de la Pepiere Muscadet Sevre-et-Maine Sur Lie ‘Les Gras Moutons’, Loire, France.”

I don’t know that wine, but Loire wines are often “flinty” which would pair well with oysters.

Ricky’s menu is inspired by “the classic American fish camps and waterside seafood shacks” and he believes that “ordinary, simple food can be extraordinary when executed at the highest level.”

David Glenn, Science and Operation Officer at the National Weather Service, Newport/Morehead City office, likes his “Steamed, dipped in butter, then across a saltine cracker with a little Tabasco hot sauce …  great, now I want some oysters.”

From Frank Tursi, former Cape Lookout Coastkeeper, founding editor of Coastal Review Online and present Mayor Pro Tem of Swansboro, a colorful, sentimental tale:

“Like we used to do them at Cape Lookout before they cleaned up the place and hauled all the old, derelict cars away: dig a hole on the beach, start a fire from driftwood or downed limbs – old live oak was the best. When you have good, glowing coals, throw a rusty hood retrieved from the dunes from an old Ford or Desoto over the hole. Empty a bushel of oysters on the hood, and cover with wet burlap. When you hear the pops, they’re ready. I still occasionally have dreams about those smoky, salty oysters.”

A number of people suggested variations on that theme.

“SC Lowcountry style – slow steamed by covering in wet burlap suspended on a steel sheet over a wood fire.” From Jessica Whitehead, North Carolina’s first Chief Resilience Officer.

A method used here, too, with the fire contained in a homemade cinder block “fireplace” and oysters shoveled onto the grate and then onto the serving table.

“Open, place on a rack. Keep the liquid in the shell, add a pat of butter, and ground fennel, put on the grill or in the oven until bubbling away.” Ah, fennel, as told by Kal Gancsos, my purple martin guru and neighbor

Most people will eat them any which way: raw, chilled, steamed, grilled, or deep fried. Several mentioned loving the tiny live crabs sometimes found in the oyster shell, and everyone wants them salty.

Stewed and scalloped are favorite preparations along with fritters, and Oysters Rockefeller, (traditional and with cheese, bacon, and spinach). A lot of mentions of saltines and butter and hot sauce and horseradish.

One Hatterasman, Richie Midgett, said he likes oysters “out of Pamlico Sound,” and another, loves “Chargrilled in NOLA!” This responder also loves oyster shooters. Raw oyster, vodka, tomato juice, lime juice, horseradish sauce in a shot glass – oh, yes!

Who is the oyster shooter fan? You guessed it – Dennis Robinson.

Coastal Federation Advisory Board member and chef-owner of Coastal Provisions Oyster Bar and Wine Cafe in Southern Shores, Coastal Cantina (Duck), and Cravings Steak and Seafood (also in Duck) Dan Lewis, serves them with a take on the classic French mignonette sauce.

“We call ours Hog Island Mignonette, after the Hog Island Oyster Company’s on the Sonoma Coast. It’s rice vinegar, cilantro, jalapeño, and black pepper. It’s best on raw oysters as putting on a hot one makes the vinegar more potent.”

They also serve an oyster Po’ Boy Taco with “crispy fried oysters, lettuce, tomatoes, Old Bay tartar sauce on a flour tortilla.” Now, that’s a different taco.

Coincidentally, I have a favorite Hog Island sauce too. And it includes bourbon, which is not an  ingredient usually associated with seafood. You may want to serve it with bourbon on the rocks. People seem to enjoy that surprise.

Hog Island Grilled Oysters With Garlic Chipotle Butter

50 fresh, local oysters

1 pound (4 sticks) unsalted butter softened to room temperature

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup bourbon (plus a nip for the chef)

2/3 cup finely chopped garlic

1 10-oz can of chipotle chilies in adobo sauce, chopped

Hatteras Saltworks Smoked Pecan sea salt (Thank you, Michael & Alyson Flynn, for that great suggestion)

In a medium bowl, dissolve the brown sugar into the bourbon

Combine the butter, brown sugar/bourbon mixture, and other ingredients in a medium bowl and mix well though it will remain a bit lumpy in texture. You can use a food processor if desired.

Pile the butter along the center of a sheet of parchment paper, working to form a “log.” Wrap it in to a log shape and refrigerate at least one hour. The finished roll should be about the dimension of a cube of butter only longer – about a foot.

Fire up the grill to medium hot. Shuck the oysters and remove butter from the fridge and slice into thin pats, about 1/4” long.

Place the oysters on the grill and top each with a pat of butter. They are ready when the butter and oysters are bubbling and sizzling for and the edges of the meat begin to curl. Remove from grill and let cool briefly.

Sprinkle a dash of smoked pecan sea salt for added depth of flavor.

NOTE:

You’ll get the same effect by combining the ingredients as above and spooning the mixture onto the shucked oyster. Do it when they are on the grill to avoid spilling the butter sauce as you move the oysters.

And another grilling recipe from Hog Island incorporates exotic flavorings that I love.

Harissa Grilled Oysters

24 fresh, local oysters

8 piquillo peppers

2 arbol chilies, dried

1/2 teaspoon cumin, finely ground

1/2 teaspoon coriander, finely ground

1/4 cup Italian parsley, chopped

1 garlic clove, peeled

Extra Virgin olive oil

rock salt for broiling and serving

Place piquillo peppers, arbol chilies, cumin, coriander, parsley, and garlic in a food processor and process on high. Slowly drizzle olive oil as needed to emulsify to the consistency of thick ketchup.

Place Harissa sauce in a glass container with a lid or a squeeze bottle, and refrigerate.

Shuck the oysters keeping the liquid in the shell with the meat and set aside on a baking sheet or a platter.

Put a tablespoon or a squeeze on each oyster.

Pace directly on a medium hot grill or under a broiler for approximately 5-7 minutes until the sauce is bubbling and the meat is beginning to curl.

Garnish with the parsley and serve hot, on a platter lined with rock salt to keep oyster shells from tipping.

Undeniably indulgent, the following recipes are worth straying from your normally healthy menu repertoire once in a while.

For a substantially decadent oyster meal, stew them as Lynne Rossetti Kasper of The Splendid Table does.

Classic Creamy Oyster Stew

1 pint shucked fresh oysters in their liquid

4 tablespoons butter

2 medium shallots, minced

1 small garlic clove, minced

Kosher salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

4 cups whole milk

2 cups heavy cream

2 or 3 drops Tabasco sauce (or to taste)

Oyster Crackers or Saltines

Extra butter

Lift the oysters out of their shells, checking for bits of sand and shell.

Pass the liquid through a fine strainer.

Chill both oysters and liquid separately.

In 3 to 4 quart saucepan melt the butter over medium heat, stir in the shallots and saute until the shallots are softened and clear. Do not brown them.

Cook 30 seconds and stir in the milk, cream, oyster liquid and Tabasco. Bring to simmer.

Cook 2 minutes at a gentle bubble, take care they don’t boil over, and keep at a simmer.

Turn the heat down so the liquid barely bubbles, blend in the oysters and cook them for just a minute or until their edges begin to curl. You want them very tender.

Serve the stew right away with crackers.

Some people can’t resist swirling extra slivers of butter into their serving. Why not? What’s a little more in an already decadent dish?

Another oh-so-sinfully-rich recipe is this Southern Living scalloped oyster casserole.

Scalloped Oysters

This recipe is from Southern Living Magazine and “calls for minimal ingredients, effectively highlighting the fresh, briny flavor of the oysters.”

Alternating layers of oysters and buttered saltines with extra butter that melt and form pockets in the casserole is further enriched with cream poured over it all just before it goes into the oven. No other ingredients required or even desired. A classic on many southern Thanksgiving tables, it is welcome any time.

8 tablespoons cold butter, divided into 1/2 inch pieces, plus more for greasing the dish.

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper

2 pints fresh shucked oysters, undrained

1 cup heavy whipping cream

5 cups finely crushed saltine crackers (from 2 cracker sleeves)

2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf (Italian) parsley

Generously butter a 13×9 inch baking dish. Preheat oven to 350. Cut 6 tablespoons of the butter into 1/2 inch pieces, and set aside.

Pour oysters in liquid over a fine mesh sieve into a medium bowl. Measure 1/3 cup of the strained oyster liquid into a small bowl. Discard remaining liquid or reserve for another use.

Stir cream into oyster liquid.

Cut the oysters into 2 or 3 pieces.

Microwave remaining 2 tablespoons butter in e medium glass bowl on HIGH until melted, about 30 seconds.

Sprinkle bottom of prepared baking dish with 1 cup of the crushed crackers. Arrange 1/4 of the oysters, spaced a few inches apart, over crackers. Sprinkle with 1/4 of the salt and pepper mix. Arrange 1/4 of the butter pieces around the oysters.

Repeat layers 3 times and top with reserved melted butter-cracker mixture.

Pour oyster liquid-cream mixture over all. Bake on preheated oven until puffed up, firm, and heated through, 30 to 35 minutes.

Sprinkle with parsley and serve hot or warm.

Oysters make for wonderful appetizers, satisfying dinners, and great excuses to get messy with friends. So, enjoy them every way possible and recycle the shells so there will be oysters in the sound for years to come.

And, reserve a few to toss around the base of your fig tree. The old-timers said they promote healthy growth and good fruit.

The Outer Banks Visitors Bureau is the prime sponsor for the Hatteras Island Oyster Roast and can be credited for in its success in the past few years. The support from this Visitors Bureau event grant has helped the Oyster Roast grow and expand to exceed capacity, with so many attendees making a weekend trip out it.

Other sponsors include Atlantic Reefmaker, Buxton Auto and Marine, City Beverage Co., Coastal Engineering and Surveying, Dixon and Dixon Law Offices, Mellow Marsh Farm, Midgett Realty, Quible and Associates, Scenic Consulting Group, Shore Details
Southern Bank, Towne Bank and Wild Water Protein.

This story is provided courtesy of the Island Free Press, a digital newspaper covering Hatteras and Ocracoke islands. Coastal Review Online is partnering with the Free Press to provide readers with more environmental and lifestyle stories of interest along our coast. 

On a blustery morning in May, I stood on a “hill” overlooking Maeslantkering. Holland doesn’t have any real hills. I know what I stood on – soil dredged and formed into a small mountain. Road cyclists circled us, training on the only elevation they can find in their backyard.

The name Maeslantkering contains the Dutch suffix “kering,” meaning “gate.” This structure is the gate to end all gates. The supreme gate. It sits in two pieces on either side of the Maas river. The wind whips up white caps as container ships pass by. Rotterdam – and its commanding port – is just to our west.

The gate came to exist here as a solution to one of Holland’s water challenges. Following a deadly flood in 1953, The Netherlands was devastated. The waters took about 2,000 lives and wreaked havoc. About a quarter of the country is below sea level. Storms coming from the north, as this one did, push vast amounts of water down the rivers and over the dikes.

I tried to compare storms but found these fronts from the north are nothing like hurricanes or cyclones. Cold arctic winds stir up trouble leaving Iceland and push the North Sea to its brink.

The Dutch vowed “never again,” and they stuck to their word through the decades. Maeslantkering came online in 1997, and it was the final and most complicated piece of the puzzle.

Other flooding solutions in the Netherlands are forever – think dams or dikes. The Maas river had a unique set of needs. Blocking it – permanently or partially – was completely out of the question. Rotterdam made that crystal clear. The port won’t slow down at all.

Behold the solution. Beyond the Keringhuis welcome center is an enormous white structure sitting peacefully on the riverbank, and it’s twin lies on the other bank.

Each wing of the Maeslantkering is just as long as the Eiffel Tower is tall. At its base is a rounded cuff of metal sitting in a perfectly curved slip. At its tip is a single, massive pivot point created out of 1.5 million pounds of steel and concrete.

When deployed, each wing pivots, extending the rounded cuffs out toward each other. It takes a few minutes to get each wing into position, but the port isn’t protected yet. Doors open at the base of each cuff, allowing the river to rush in and displace the air. The Maeslantkering slowly sinks to the base of the river. It’ll rest on a specially made platform to keep the gate level and safe. In the final moments of its submersion, the power of the river itself blasts away any sediment that’s piled on the platform.

As if that wasn’t impressive enough, know it’s a robot. This gate is designed to deploy automatically in the worst-case scenario.

Having just watched the coast of North Carolina struggle through hurricanes Matthew, Florence and Michael, I couldn’t help but feel a bond. The power of water is humbling. The odds feel insurmountable. But the rewards of living in such a place? Worth the risk.

The Dutch have a saying. “God created the world but the Dutch created the Netherlands.” For better or worse, these communities are committed to this remote flatland. Innovation is the only way to survive. Home is home.

People continue to “create the Netherlands” every day with their own small-scale stormwater projects. I was tickled to find rain barrels, pervious pavement, green roofs and other best management practices on display at the Keringhuis. These look familiar.

The risks of stormwater feel familiar as well. In the event that a big rain event comes from the south, the Rhine will be swollen and dangerous as it enters the Netherlands. Every home has a stake in absorbing some of their own runoff to make sure the river stays at safe levels. As a bonus, every home has access to subsidies if they use low-impact development techniques.

They are evolving just as North Carolina is evolving. Damming large bodies of water brought the Netherlands safety, but today’s leaders question the ecological effects (spoiler: they weren’t great). Natural hydrology can’t be beat. Sometimes it can even be a smarter investment.

The new Dutch manner of thinking is called “Building with Nature.” My favorite example of this approach is the Zandmotor, quite literally, sand motor.

On the remote ocean shoreline, dune health is critical. The challenge is: sand moves. Waves reclaim it. Dutch ships would pump sand from the ocean floor up onto the beach over and over, along the whole shoreline. “I know this. It’s beach renourishment,” I thought to myself.

But the Dutch wanted to cut costs. Instead, one ship pumped all the sand into one spot: a giant reservoir of sand in a carefully chosen location. Then, they let the sea do the rest. In theory, the waves will carry the sand along the beach, adequately renourishing the breadth of the shore. Time will tell.

I was stunned. I presumed there was only one way to do it. Learning about this alternative was thrilling.

That’s my biggest takeaway: there’s plenty of room to think outside the box. As North Carolina recovers and rolls forward, what new ideas will we uncover? We need to be ready to work smarter, not harder.

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review Online welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. The opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review Online or the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

The devastating impacts of Hurricane Florence to residents and businesses in eastern North Carolina remind us of just how vulnerable the state is to severe storms and flooding. Hurricane Florence produced torrential rains causing severe flooding that breached levees, closed major roads and inundated entire communities. Thousands of homes in the eastern part of the state were destroyed.

Unfortunately, many of those impacts were felt most acutely in the regions of the state that were still in the process of recovering from Hurricane Matthew, which struck in October 2016. Many of the homes that flooded from Florence had also flooded from Matthew and some of these same homes had even flooded before during Hurricanes Fran and Floyd in the late 1990s.

To reduce the risks of future flooding, communities across the state have been acquiring and removing the most vulnerable homes from the floodplain. These acquisitions, known as buyouts, are funded primarily by the Federal Emergency Management Administration (FEMA). Since the 1990s, FEMA has funded the acquisition of over 50,000 homes, including some 5,000 homes in North Carolina.

By removing homes from harm’s way, buyouts can permanently reduce a community’s vulnerability to flooding.

Homes that are acquired with FEMA funds must be removed or demolished and the land protected in perpetuity as open space. By removing homes from harm’s way, buyouts can permanently reduce a community’s vulnerability to flooding. However, buyouts also can reduce the local tax base and stick local governments with the bill for maintaining the now-vacant properties. Since buyouts are strictly voluntary, not all eligible homeowners participate, thus limiting the use of the acquired lands. The most common use of buyout lands is vacant lots. Although some communities, such as Charlotte and Rocky Mount, have created parks, community gardens and greenways.

In response to Hurricane Matthew, over the last year we have been leading a team of researchers at UNC-Chapel Hill to study and identify ways to improve floodplain buyouts in North Carolina.

The goals of the study were to estimate the net financial impacts of buyouts on local governments in North Carolina and to explore the factors that might motivate people to participate in a buyout.

The project examined the impact of buyouts in eight communities: Charlotte, Greenville, Kinston, Lumberton, Raleigh, Rocky Mount, Seven Springs and Windsor. These communities vary in size from Seven Springs (pop. 110) to Charlotte (pop. 842,051). As part of the study we met with local officials, created GIS maps of buyout areas, and collected financial data to estimate the loss of tax base and the costs associated with maintaining the buyout properties.

We also tried to estimate the savings, or avoided losses, that the buyouts will provide during future floods. What expenses will the community not incur because the acquired homes will no longer be there to flood?

Our research findings suggest the financial impact of a buyout varies by community and depends on a number of factors, including:

• The spatial pattern of the buyout. For example, many buyouts resemble a checkerboard, with vacant homes interspersed among occupied houses.  With this pattern of acquisition, most communities simply plant grass on the vacant lots and mow regularly. This can be costly, with few environmental benefits.
• Future use of the property. Some communities have created a community amenity, such as a park, out of the acquired lands.  Others simply lease the isolated, vacant lots to adjacent landowners. The spatial pattern of the buyout largely determines what the community can do with the land afterwards.
• Where people go. If buyout participants leave the community, then the community suffers a loss of tax base.  In many cases, participants are able to find replacement housing within the community. Everyone benefits if communities can quickly help buyout participants find local and non-flood prone housing.
• What costs get reimbursed. Federal and state grants often cover the bulk of local expenses during buyouts if they are in response to
• State or federally-declared disasters. In cases where flooding is localized, local governments can be made to foot much more of the bill.

Our final report contains a number of recommendations, including the need to develop incentives at the state level that allow for efficient and complete buyouts rather than a scattershot approach.  Importantly, policies and funding should support participants in the buyout to relocate to affordable housing as close as possible to their existing community (and in areas that are not prone to flooding).

As state lawmakers and state agency officials begin the long process of helping communities recover from Hurricane Florence, improving the flood plain buyout process offers an opportunity to make the state more resilient for future storms and protect residents in vulnerable areas.

Learn More

• Read the full report

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review Online welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. The opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review Online or the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

EMERALD ISLE – They came and set up their beach chairs in the darkness and waited while the lullaby of crashing waves attempted to sooth them asleep. Yet, they were too excited for sleep and would not surrender to that dark silent curtain.

For 11 nights, volunteers endured rain, tortuous mosquitoes, howling wind and on one night it was so cool that they wrapped up in blankets sipping on hot tea. They told stories to pass the time and on clear nights, they gazed deep into the stars and into the misty Milky Way. On one of these nights, they were able to see the International Space Station as it arched across the sky. As it streaked by at 17,500 miles per hour, one of the observers, commented, “It is kind of a juxtaposition staring up at modern technology while waiting on something from prehistoric years.”

Sea turtles are thought to have been swimming the oceans of the Earth since the late Jurassic period, around 150 million years ago.

After walking day after day, scouring the beach for sea turtle tracks carved in the sand, citizen-science volunteers hope to find a nest full of eggs. Almost two months of patience is then required for the warm summer sun to incubate the eggs deep in their sandy den. After 50 days of incubation, the volunteer nest-sitters will start their nightly vigil. They now wait for their reward, to see baby hatchlings make their trek to the ocean.

On May 20, around 4:30 p.m., one of these primeval beasts swam ashore and crawled up the sloping beach to the base of the primary dune in Emerald Isle. However, this particular turtle was different from the typical loggerhead sea turtles that we have come to expect along the North Carolina coast. Much to the surprise of a few beachcombers, this female nested during the daytime, which would be unusual for a loggerhead or green sea turtle. In addition, the tracks etched in the sand were quite narrow for these large reptiles. These clues led to the conclusion that this nesting female was a Kemp’s ridley sea turtle, a critically endangered species.

The rarest and the smallest of all seven species of sea turtles, the Kemp’s ridley weighs in at around 100 pounds with an oval-shaped, olive-grey-colored shell reaching 2 feet in length. This is less than half the size of a loggerhead. What makes this nest even more interesting is that Kemp’s are mostly found in the shallow waters of the Gulf of Mexico, where they munch on crabs, shrimp and shellfish. Some of these sea turtles make their way around the Florida Keys and head up the Atlantic Coast all the way to Nova Scotia. Some have even crossed the pond and have been found off the coast of Ireland. These wandering turtles are usually juveniles that have taken a ride on powerful ocean currents.

The Kemp’s ridley has been a bit of a mystery, a riddle, if you will. Noticed by early sailors and fishermen, it was long thought to be a hybrid sea turtle unable to produce eggs, since no one had ever documented a nesting female.

This small sea turtle caught the eye of a fisherman from Key West, Florida, Richard Kemp. He recognized distinctions that led him to believe that this was a unique species and sent a specimen to Harvard University. In 1906, his study and identification of this reptile led scientists to name the turtle in his honor.

Knowledge about the Kemp’s ridley nesting biology remained a conundrum for scientists for another 56 years. Since biologists have never seen them nest, it was theorized that the female might produce live hatchlings. It was also thought that the Kemp’s species had somehow become infertile and that the species would eventually die out.

In 1947, Andres Herrera, identified as an engineer, sportsman, naturalist and a tourist in various writings, was flying his small plane along the coast between United States and Mexico. Looking down on a beach near the Mexican town of Rancho Nuevo, Herrera witnessed not hundreds, but thousands of Kemp’s ridley sea turtles on the beach and those in the water he described as “blotches of confetti.”

Herrera had heard rumors and whispers of a nesting spectacle such as this and came prepared with a 16 mm camera. He landed his plane on a nearby beach and began filming this daytime mass nesting known as an “arribada,” or mass arrival. At last, the riddle was solved! All the biologists now knew where the Kemp’s ridley nests.

Well, hold on, not just yet.

Satisfied with his find, Herrera put aside the film, perhaps in a drawer where it sat for 13 years. Somehow, in 1960, the film came to be viewed by the eccentric Henry Hildebrand, a marine biologist. Hildebrand shared the film with the scientific community much to the delight of famed sea turtle researcher Archie Carr.

Carr, who, for years, had walked hundreds of miles of ocean shoreline in search of nesting Kemp’s, was so excited that he proclaimed,“It made Andrés Herrera in my mind suddenly a cinematographer far finer than Fellini, Alfred Hithcock, or Walt Disney could ever aspire to be. … to me Andrés Herrera is a man who ought to be knighted, or to get a Nobel Prize, or some kind of prize.”

A study of Herrera’s film determined that close to 40,000 Kemp’s nested on that day alone along a stretch of beach 16 miles long. With the cat now out of the bag, researchers descended on Rancho Nuevo. But upon arrival, they were surprised to find only around 2,000 nesting individuals.

Since the time of the Herrera discovery, the harvesting of the eggs and the turtles themselves had severely decimated the population. Thought to be a powerful aphrodisiac, the eggs were like gold, fetching a high price. With each turtle laying around 100 eggs, this was a lucrative business.

With this being the only significant nesting site for the Kemp’s ridley, the Mexican government took action to protect this nesting site. However, the numbers continued to fall due to poaching and their accidental capture in fishing trawl nets. The species was on the road to extinction.

In the late 1970s, the United States and Mexican governments collaborated with biologists through the Kemp’s Ridley Sea Turtle Restoration and Enhancement Project to establish a new nesting colony at Padre Island National Seashore in Texas. This bold experiment would test the theory that sea turtle hatchlings somehow imprint on the beach where they hatched.

Newly laid eggs on the beaches of Mexico were transported to Padre Island. Here they were incubated and as the hatchlings scampered down the beach, they would hopefully, pick up on natures cues that this is “their” beach. Recent research indicates that they somehow utilize the earth’s geomagnetic field to find their way home. Thousands of eggs were relocated for years and in 1996 the first nesting adult female returned. In 2017, 353 Kemp’s nested on Padre Island National Seashore. After 40 years, this project is continuing to foster the recovery of this species.

As some of the Emerald Isle nest-sitters were distracted by the bioluminescent algae glowing in the surf, at 1:30 a.m. one of the volunteers noticed a depression in the sand above the nest chamber. After 60 days, the eager hatchlings were climbing on the backs of each other like rungs on a ladder. Finally, just before dawn, the tiny creatures seemed to boil from the sand. Cautious at first, they began to crawl toward the ocean with the escort and protection of their volunteer guardians. As the incoming waves reached out to greet them, they scrambled down the beach where their beaks were finally kissed by the sea.

Their journey had just begun.

A few days after the nest hatched, Dale Baquer, Emerald Isle Sea Turtle Patrol program coordinator, supervised an excavation of the nest to inventory the contents. Zone coordinators Jami Thomas and Sue Toth began the delicate task of digging through the sand to locate the empty eggshells and rescue any stragglers still in the nest. After a little digging, the white leather-like shells spilled from each handful of sand. The shells were organized in neat rows to ensure an accurate count.

Quite a crowd had now gathered, curious to see what was going on. A murmur of excitement jolted the group like an electrical current as two tiny hatchlings were found deep beneath the empty shells. Families with children were lucky to be strolling down the beach at just the right time. Like security guards protecting a celebrity, the sea turtle volunteers kept the giddy crowd at a distance as these two strutted to the ocean on a carpet of sand. This nest was a great success, out of 86 eggs, 82 developed into strong hatchlings that made it into the ocean.

As I watched the hatchlings, I realized that of the hundreds of nests that I excavated and inventoried during my career as a park ranger, I had never seen a Kemp’s ridley hatchling. I watched them closely, urged toward the ocean by an instinctual zest for survival and on a collision course with the baptism of a white, foamy wave that would sweep them into their ocean home.

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.

Editor’s note: To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review Online welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. See our guidelines for submitting guest columns. The opinions expressed here are not those of Coastal Review Online or the N.C. Coastal Federation.

The inexorable rise in global temperatures, combined with a strong El Niño, puts 2015 in the record books while burying a key, but bogus, argument used by those who deny that our climate is changing.

Last year is officially the hottest year in recorded history, according to independent analyses released last week by NASA and NOAA scientists. If this sounds like something you’ve heard before: It is. This time last year, those same agencies announced that 2014 had been the hottest year in recorded history. But 2014 squeaked by the previous record set in 2010 by less than five-hundredths of a degree. 2015 blew the doors off that record by 0.16°C. That may not seem like much, but it’s the largest margin by which a previous annual temperature record was broken

Globally, all but two months, January and April, were the warmest in recorded history, as the above chart shows. And this warmth wasn’t limited to some random, remote area in the middle of the ocean or Siberia. In the United States, every single state east of the Mississippi River just had its warmest December on record.

RIP “Hiatus”

Temperatures last year are the latest nails in the coffin for an unfortunately popular misconception about climate change. Called the “hiatus” or “pause,” this oft-cited talking point says that global temperatures peaked in 1998 and have not risen since.

Temperatures last year were, in fact, unusually warm in 1998, thanks in part to a strong El Niño that year. During El Niños, warmer-than-usual ocean water covers the equatorial Pacific Ocean, typically resulting in warmer-than-average global temperatures. 2015 saw the start of the strongest El Niño since 1998, and so we would expect warm temperatures in 2015, all else being equal. But, as the plot in the accompanying chart shows, all else is not equal. El Niños have been getting warmer over the past 30 years, with the 2015 El Niño just the latest, and warmest, example.

The “hiatus” is based on comparing the strong 1998 El Niño to following years, which were at best weak El Niño. 2015 was a strong El Niño year, as well, making a comparison to 1998 more reasonable. Still, any comparison of a single year to another year is not only pretty silly, it is scientifically and statistically wrong. Earth’s climate is a complicated beast, and many different factors—a lot of which are still poorly understood—cause year-to-year swings in global temperature. If we look at the records over longer time periods, though, the trend becomes obvious: Global temperatures are increasing. This would be true regardless of whether 2015 was the warmest year on record or not.

2015 Context

What does a 0.9°C warmer world actually mean? To get context, we can step back to the last time when scientists know global temperatures were quite different from today: The peak of the last ice age, around 20,000 years ago. Even though thermometers were only invented 300 years ago, scientists can infer temperatures at the last ice age by measuring biological and geochemical artifacts that are related to temperature, such as tree rings, coral growth and ice cores. A recent compilation of hundreds of these measurements by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change suggest the ice age world was, on average, 4.4 ± 1.3°C colder than the 20^th century.

In other words, the temperature difference from average last year (+0.9°C) was up to 30% as large as the temperature difference at the peak of the last ice age, when ice sheets up to a mile thick covered North America down to New York, global sea level was about 450 feet lower—equivalent to the height of Great Pyramid of Giza—and wooly mammoths roamed across the high latitudes.

This isn’t an entirely fair comparison; there were undoubtedly warm and cold years during the last ice age. But the bigger point is this: Earth’s history is marked by massive physical and biological changes associated with relatively small changes in global temperature. A year that was 0.9°C warmer than average, on top of now 39 straight warmer than average years, is a change that simply cannot be ignored. Fortunately, the recent climate agreement in Paris is a key first step to potentially limit the consequences of climate change in the future, when the record warmth of 2015 will be easily forgotten under the weight of increasingly extreme years.

To Learn More

• NOAA’s 2015 State of the Climate Report: Global Analysis
• NOAA’s 2015 State of the Climate Report: U.S. Analysis

It’s time for the Army Corps of Engineers to bring some sanity to the examination of building a terminal groin at Rich Inlet on Figure Eight Island.  It’s received an overwhelming stack of detailed comments from numerous federal and state agencies and community organizations, and it’s clear that the current draft Environmental Impact Statement is beyond hope of ever being viewed as having any credibility.

The draft document prepared by the applicant’s hand-picked and long-time terminal groin consultants is simply too biased in its construction to ever be considered an impartial and fair review of possible project alternatives for the island.

We have to ask why an Environmental Impact Statement is being prepared. A complete permit application has never been submitted. Normally for projects proposed by private parties with private funds, the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) review would only begin after a complete permit application has been submitted and a determination that an Environmental Impact Statement is necessary because the project has the potential to cause significant environmental impacts.

In this case, no complete application has ever been submitted to either the federal or state agencies. In fact, because the applicant has not secured the necessary private property rights to build its preferred alternative a complete application is not even possible under both federal and state permit application rules. Until a complete permit application is submitted and these property rights are secured, it is a colossal waste of everyone’s time and resources to evaluate the terminal groin alternative.

There’s even a question of whether any property is currently imminently threatened, and therefore whether state law allows consideration of a terminal groin. The inlet channel is shifting naturally, and the beach in front of houses that were imminently threatened is currently building back. The beach is accreting in front of the properties that are currently sand-bagged, and they are no longer within 20 feet of an erosion scarp. None of these properties can be deemed “imminently threatened.”

The project has not been adequately defined to even trigger a NEPA review. The project’s scope, purpose and need have been drastically changed without any public notice in the Federal Register. In this case, the applicant has been on a fishing expedition regarding project alternatives, and it has identified and defined these alternatives with no involvement by any outside agency or the public in the past two years. There has been no ongoing role in the development of the study by the Corps appointed “Project Delivery Team” that has not met for two years. This has allowed the applicant to define the project alternatives that are not its preferred alternative. They have been defined in a manner that makes them appear less desirable.

The draft study cannot be salvaged to make it a useful document. While it might be possible to correct inaccuracies, omissions, content and the disorganized state of the document, making the study a truly independent and unbiased analysis of alternatives will be impossible. It is fundamentally flawed because it is entirely constructed around justifying the terminal groin alternative.

One of the consultants that helped prepared the study recently made a presentation to the Figure Eight Homeowners Association annual meeting.  His handouts further document that the consultant is totally sold on the need for a terminal groin, and the one-sided presentation to the homeowners clearly was designed to sell that alternative instead of giving a fair and balanced analysis of possible alternatives. Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinions, but just like the Corps would not hire the Coastal Federation to prepare this study, it should not be relying on a terminal groin advocate to do it either.

It’s time to call a time-out, and halt the study process.  If the Figure Eight Homeowners Association wants to pursue a terminal groin, it should be required to submit a complete and acceptable permit application to the federal and state agencies. This will require proof that it has the property rights acquired from numerous individuals to build the structure on their land. Then a proper scoping notice can be published that fully discloses what’s proposed, independent contractors can be hired to prepare the report, and the process can start again if necessary.

Trying to fix the current process simply won’t work. Let’s hope the Corps of Engineers agrees, and we can all get back to work that’s much more beneficial and productive for our coast.

Local governments in coastal North Carolina paid hundreds of thousands of dollars in 2011 to lobby Congress for federal funds for their shore protection projects. Financial disclosures indicate that payments to lobby Congress by these same local governments have been made for years. However, a recent ban on “earmarks” means that more often than not shore protection project budgets are now set by the President’s administration and not by lawmakers. In recent years, funds for these projects dwindled as competition for shrinking federal funds becomes more intense even among beach communities.

According to 2011 Congressional lobbying disclosure,Howard Marlowe & Co. received more than $200,000 from local taxpayers to lobby for federal appropriations and earmarks for the upcoming fiscal year. His North Carolina coastal clients included:

Carteret County, $73,600; Brunswick Beach Consortium, $37,500; Beach, Inlet and Waterways Association, Inc., $35,000; North Topsail Beach, $20,000; Surf City, $20,000; and Topsail Beach, $20,000. Wrightsville Beach, Carolina Beach and New Hanover County paid Marlowe less than $5,000 each quarter.

Many of these local governments and associations have retained Marlowe for many years. Marlowe’s firm received more than $1.4 million from clients in 2011. However, since 2008, Marlowe’s overall income has declined each year from a high of over $2.2 million. Bucking a national trend, many of his clients in North Carolina continue to pay consistently for lobbying services, with the exception of New Hanover County, which curtailed its annual payments of $40,000 after 2009. Client payments by year can be seen here.

Rules Change

Lobbying Congress for money is an age-old pastime, but the rules of the game have changed dramatically in recent years. Now funding priorities for shore protection projects are mostly decided by the President and the Army Corps of Engineers, and not Congress.

That’s not the way it used to be. The President would release his budget in February, and Congress would approve a final budget by the beginning of the fiscal year that begins on October. The process has changed significantly.  Congress typically passes a defense bill quickly, and then stalls on everything else.

Instead, “continuing resolutions” are passed that temporarily provide base funding to keep government agencies and programs operating. Some of these resolutions allow agencies to spend what’s in the President’s proposed budget, or to spend at the previous year’s levels, or for projects that might have been included in any version of the Senate or House Energy and Water Development Appropriation bills. These instructions change from year to year, but the President’s budget rule seems to be the most consistent.

For shore protection projects that are eventually funded, Congress appropriates money either through the Energy & Water Development Appropriations bill, or wraps all the unfinished appropriation bills into an omnibus package (affectionately termed a “mega bill”).

In year’s past, the normal function of Congress was to consider each appropriation bill so as to add or cut what was in the President’s budget. For beach projects, the Corps’ entire budget was a series of earmarks. Each named project got a certain amount of dollars.  But when the Republican leadership in the House pledged in 2010 that there would be “no earmarks,” it made it almost impossible for any member of Congress to add anything into the budget and direct any particular agency what to do. The “no earmark” pledge by default allows the President to outline his spending priorities and Congress has in essence forfeited its ability to change them.

For fiscal year 2012, no stand-alone budget bill ever passed Congress. It eventually gave the Corps approximately $44.7 million for shore protection projects, and told it to develop a “work plan” for how that lump sum was to be spent. So instead of earmarking, Congress gave Corps the authority to set its own spending. The work plan is available here.

Little Flows Back

Small amounts of federal money for shore protection projects flowed back into North Carolina in fiscal year 2012. The Wilmington District of the Corps received $287,000 to investigate how to reduce storm damages in Surf City. More N.C. beach communities are proposed for funds in the President’s recommended $44.8 million shore protection budget for fiscal year 2013, but the total appropriations are meager compared to the communities’ wish list. Requests for N.C. projects in the President’s budget are listed below.

It is difficult to tell just how effective Marlowe & Co. actually is in helping its clients obtain federal funds for shore protection projects. The total amount of money available for shore protection projects from the federal budget has been stagnant in recent years under both Republican and Democratic Presidents, and those communities with long established Congressionally authorized projects tend to be first in line to receive these shrinking funds.  In fiscal year 2012, 93 percent of the federal funds for shore protection projects went to communities and organizations that Marlowe did not represent. Marlowe had 31 clients in 2011 that are all competing among themselves and with every other beach community for these limited project funds.

Marlowe has his own political action committee as part of his efforts to influence Congress. Most of his political donations go to Democrats. To see his giving history, go here.

Beach communities remain pretty inventive when it comes to getting federal dollars. Federally declared disasters have become a pipeline to “repair” shore protection projects that would otherwise not be eligible for federal dollars. That will be the subject of another blog in the future.

Corps Projects

Here’s the authorized shoreline protection protects at the Corps’ Wilmington District. This does not include appropriations for dredging projects.

Fiscal Year 2012

Investigations

Surf City         $287,000

Shoreline protection projects nationwide received $44,700,000. The actual appropriations for N.C. projects represented 0.6% of total appropriation.

Fiscal Year 2013

Investigations, President’s budget

Bogue Banks                                       $445.000

Surf City and North Topsail Beach         $225,000

Investigations Subtotal                      $675,000

Construction, President’s budget

West Onslow Beach (Topsail Island)     $200,000

Construction Subtotal                       $200,000

The president in his proposed budget recommends appropriating $44,800,000 for shoreline protection projects nationwide. The proposed $875,000 expenditure in North Carolina represents 1.9% of total appropriations.

Editor’s note:The N.C. Coastal Resources Commission at its meeting in Beaufort today will once again consider a coastal planning policy for sea-level rise. The commission’s panel of scientific advisors presented the commission with a draft policy in March 2010. It projected that sea level along the N.C. coast could rise 15 to 55 inches by 2100 because of a warming climate. That forecast and most planning recommendations were removed from a later draft after objections from development interests and some coastal counties. The commission asked the Coastal Hazards Science Panel, its advisors, to respond to the objections. The panel did so recently in an “addendum” to its original report in which the so-called “Science Panel” unanimously reaffirmed its findings. All of the authors, except for Dr. Reide Corbett, are members of the panel.

By Robert S. Young, D. Reide Corbett, David Mallinson, Charles “Pete” Peterson, Stanley R. Riggs, Antonio B. Rodriguez

We would like to take this opportunity to add our own personal perspective to the just completed “addendum” report authored by the Science Panel. It should come as no surprise that the panel unanimously voted to support the science behind the projections in our first report. The Science Panel is composed of very well qualified scientists and engineers, some of whom have spent their careers examining the nature and impacts of changing sea levels in North Carolina. The state is fortunate to have such expertise available for consultation.

Dr. Robert S. Young

Dr. Reide Corbett

Dr. David Mallinson

Dr. Charles “Pete” Peterson

Dr. Stanley Riggs

Dr. Antonio B. Rodriguez

No one wants to think about the potential for a meter of sea level rise, but this projection is clearly the national and international consensus being used for planning the potential impacts of rising sea level over the next century.

Much has been said in the media over the last few months, and we respect the right of all North Carolinians to have their say, and to participate in the discussion. We would like to address a few of what we believe are important misunderstandings or misconceptions:

There is no scientific consensus on global climate change and the expected acceleration of sea level rise:  There is, in fact, clear scientific consensus on global climate change amongst scientists. Every major scientific organization in the United States, Europe, and Asia has produced statements supporting the science behind the human contribution to global warming and indicating an expected acceleration in the rate of sea-level rise over the next century.

There are other viewpoints, but they do not represent the vast majority of scientists. We like to think of it this way. If you had a persistent cough, and you went to 100 doctors for a diagnosis and 98 doctors said you had lung cancer, while two doctors said you simply had a throat tickle, we are guessing that you would take the cancer diagnosis seriously. You might even begin to seek treatment. In the case of sea-level rise, 98 of the 100 scientists are telling you that there will be an acceleration in the rate of rise this century. It is up to you to decide what to do about it.

These scientific organizations embrace climate change so that they can continue to get grant money:  This assertion is a bit absurd. Organizations like the National Academies, the American Association for the Advancement of Science, the Geological Society of America, the American Geophysical Union and many others have all supported the science behind global change. Yet, a very, very small percentage of their members conduct funded climate change research. Rather, these diverse groups of scientists have examined the evidence and, based on the facts, found it to be convincing enough to produce scientific statements regarding the need for public action and continued research.

If it is true that these policy statements will lead to an increase in the funding for global change research, then all of the other scientists in these organizations have just “shot themselves in the foot.” There is only so much research money to go around. If it is all going to climate change, then the other scientists in these many organizations are likely to have less funding available for their particular research interest.

A far more likely scenario than a conspiracy to get funding is this: The scientists and engineers in these organizations looked at the peer-reviewed literature and concluded that global change is real, and that an expectation for an acceleration in the rate of sea-level rise is reasonable.

Even talking about one meter of sea-level rise will impact insurance rates and harm the coastal economy:  We find this hard to believe. First of all, the insurance companies are well aware of the science behind global climate change and the prevailing projections of sea-level rise. They have funded much research into the science, hazards and risks associated with sea-level rise, coastal erosion and storms. Nothing in the Science Panel’s report or the discussion at the Coastal Resources Commission will come as a surprise to the insurance industry.

Second, the real and immediate threat along the N.C. coast remains property damage resulting from storms. Some areas of the United State have experienced multiple storm impacts; yet, their coastal economies continue to thrive. Dauphin Island, Ala., has been nearly wiped off the map several times in the last 30 years. Each time the barrier island was rebuilt, and the economy there chugs along. One might question whether or not this is good policy, but it is hard to imagine that something as abstract as a 100-year projection for rising sea level is going to impact the coastal economy when the very real prospect of storm impacts has not slowed coastal growth.

The scientists and engineers who project a one-meter sea-level rise by 2100 are calling for an abandonment of the coast:  This is simply not true. Currently, the rate of sea-level rise does not appear to be accelerating (although scientists do expect that to change in the future). If you are building a single-family home, or a subdivision, you probably don’t need to do anything other than account for storms. In many respects, the best way to prepare for sea-level rise over the next two to three decades is simply to do a better job of preparing for major storm impacts. If you are building a nuclear power plant, an airbase or a major port facility (all of which are expected to last longer than a single-family home), you should take the potential for sea-level rise into consideration.

We may never get to that projected one meter of sea-level rise: We WILL experience a sea-level rise of one meter.  We don’t know if it will be 75 years from now or 150 years from now, but we will get there. As we do, the map of Eastern North Carolina will change. It has already changed dramatically from the last 500 years of sea-level rise.  The uncertainty in the future rate and acceleration of global sea-level rise is the main reason why the Science Panel suggested updating and reviewing the report’s projections every five years. Regardless, it is perfectly reasonable for local and state planners to begin consideration of how the map may change in order to develop very long-term plans for adjusting. This is done in order to preserve and protect the coastal economy, not to plan its abandonment.

One final note, we all have a stake in the preservation of North Carolina’s coastal resources, North Carolina’s coastal economy and the wise management of both. Discussing the potential for future sea-level rise in a frank, polite and constructive manner is our effort to contribute to that wise management. We hope that it will be received as such.

Unless it’s a gift for Christmas or a birthday, when my two teenage boys ask for money they know they’ll be held accountable for how it’s used.

Requests by state agencies for appropriations from the N.C. General Assembly typically are met with similar expectations of accountability. State programs don’t simply get funds because they exist. They must justify their budget needs each year, and account for how they spent the money they have been given in the past.

At least as a taxpayer I hope that’s how it’s done.

Twenty-three years ago lawmakers decided that annual budget requests and agency reports weren’t sufficient to obtain a comprehensive understanding of the environment.  They wanted more, so legislators asked the secretary of the N.C. Department of Environment and Natural Resources to report every two years on environmental conditions and trends, and what’s being done to protect and restore environmental health.

In a recent email with Bill Holman who lobbied for this law in 1989, he said “…the idea was to provide an opportunity for [the department] to identify the state’s important environmental problems and make recommendations to the General Assembly on how to address them.”

Holman later served the department as its assistant secretary and secretary between 1998 and 2000.  He feels that it has never effectively utilized this report even when he was there.

Past reports started seriously enough even before the legislative mandate.  In 1987 under Gov. Jim Martin’s administration, the department prepared a report that attempted to convey to the legislature good and bad news about environmental trends across the state. That first report helped to inspire the legislature to make the biannual report a statutory mandate.  In response, two more reports were prepared in 1989 and 1991 that were pretty comprehensive in nature, and which even included a preamble by Martin himself.

Then, as these types of exercises tend to do, the reports became much more glossy presentations that looked and read much more like tourism brochures rather than serious analytical reports that digest and evaluate the status of environmental protection efforts.  And somewhere along the line, the requirement that reports be submitted to the lawmakers every two years was forgotten.

The most recent report was released early this year eleven months late after some prodding from the NC General Assembly.  It follows the now standard flowery format that celebrates our beautiful and productive environment, while providing little meaningful analysis of the numerous environmental challenges that confront the state now and in the future.

Much of the data and commentary presented in the report provide virtually no insights into environmental issues.  The impact on the Department’s ability to safeguard the state’s environment caused by a 40 percent cut in its yearly operating budget is not examined. The report is silent regarding lack of adequate staff to carry out legislative mandates that provide critical oversight of environmental standards and permits. For example, there are now nearly 13,000 permits issued for coastal stormwater systems in the 20 coastal counties, and yet the department’s staff to issue permits and monitor their compliance has been cut significantly. It also fails to report that the N.C. Coastal Resources Commission lacks sufficient funds to hold its regular meetings, making it difficult to address pressing policy demands.

Before time and money is spent preparing the next report in 2013, it’s time to refocus on the purpose of this report, and what it should contain.

The existing legal requirements are quite clear:

• Identify and analyze current environmental protection issues and problems;
• Document trends in the quality and use of air and water resources;
• Inventory areas of the state where air or water pollution is a problem or may be a problem in the next two years;
• Explain current efforts and resources being spent to correct pollution problems, and estimate what additional resources are needed to solve potential problems;
• Explain goals and strategies to protect the environment; and
• Suggest needed environmental legislation.

The report should provide a candid and honest evaluation of how well funds have been used to protect the environment, and where there are gaps and problems with management efforts.  This would provide regular measurable benchmarks upon which performance of the department can be measured, and its future needs addressed.

Perhaps it’s naive to expect any agency to evaluate itself.  That’s probably why the report has never been used to clearly communicate with lawmakers vexing management challenges the department faces.

The outcome of the election for governor later this year is highly uncertain.  This means the current leadership of the department may or may not be around next February when the next report is due.  That’s no excuse not to make the required 2013 report a priority right now.  A valid, analytical assessment of environmental needs is urgently needed no matter who’s in charge next year.

If a serious effort is not made to make the next report a meaningful and timely exercise that lives up to its legislative mandate, lawmakers should either eliminate the report or assign it to an independent third party to prepare.

It is pure insanity to keep preparing the report the same way over and over again, and expect a different, more meaningful result.

Recent studies find that motorists in North Carolina are stuck in some of the worst congestion in the United States, wasting more than 47 hours a year in traffic jams. And at a time that one-quarter of North Carolina’s major roads are deteriorated, nearly a third of the state’s bridges are in need of improvement and traffic congestion continues to choke major roads, North Carolina faces a $65 billion transportation funding shortfall through 2030.

Next time you’re stuck in traffic wasting expensive gas getting no where fast, you can turn your thoughts to the empty 27- mile four-lane superhighway that may soon be built with nearly $400 million taxpayers dollars through the Alligator River Wildlife Refuge in Tyrrell and Dare counties.

The official justification for turning U.S. 64 into an expressway has nothing to do with existing traffic congestion on this roadway. Except for the occasional bear or red wolf, it’s a lightly traveled roadway most days and there’s rarely a need to slow down except to avoid getting a speeding ticket.

Evacuating the Outer Banks from Whalebone Junction in Nags Head south to Ocracoke in 18 hours is the major justification for building the new road. A 2005 modeling study concluded that by 2030, it would take nearly 40 hours to get every vehicle that would need to use U.S. 64 out of Dare County if the existing road is not improved.

Other reasons given are to bring the existing highway into conformance with a highway plan that the state has imposed on itself, and because the bridge over the Alligator River will someday need to be replaced. Those justifications by themselves would never warrant spending so much money on this project when more modest highway and bridge improvements would suffice.

Digging deeper into the hurricane evacuation justification reveals that the estimated future evacuation time that’s projected is based upon faulty assumptions that don’t reflect reality.

Dare County evacuates visitors the way they came to the county. That means nearly 70 percent of the vehicles evacuating leave by U.S.158 and not U.S. 64. Even if there was a dire emergency, and more cars were directed to use U.S. 64, the fact that evacuations normally begin up to 72 hours prior to a storm for Ocracoke and Hatteras Islands was not factored into the model that calculated clearance times.

Many people and their vehicles will have already left Dare County before the critical 18 hour clearance time since early mandatory evacuation orders are always given for Hatteras and Ocracoke Islands. These areas need to be vacated early because of the ferries and the vulnerable situation along Highway. Even if all these cars were directed to leave by U.S. 64, most will be long gone before more easily vacated areas of the county begin their evacuations.

Take away this “evacuation” justification for building this massive and expensive highway, and it’s tough to conclude that the significant tax dollars and environmental damage and social upheaval the project will cost can be justified.

State leaders should use these highway dollars elsewhere. There are plenty of congested highways that need improvements, or the funds could be used to avoid having to raise $5 million in ferry tolls annually for the next 200 years.

Remember when coastal real estate was a liquid asset and great investment?  If you wanted to make a lot of money quickly, the conventional wisdom was to buy some coastal real estate, hold it for a few years and then flip it to the next hungry investor. Like a house of cards, such trading collapsed with the Great Recession of 2008.  Speculators who failed to cash out before the real estate bubble burst found they were stuck with overpriced land, houses and empty lots that nobody wants.

The fallout of this rampant speculation in real estate has been catastrophic on the economy. Investors face foreclosures, the banks crashed and needed large taxpayer bailouts and small businesses went bankrupt. Joblessness swelled and continues to linger. An economic malaise infects our thinking making it hard to feel optimistic about the future.

No one predicts with any certainty when real estate will once again be viewed as a safe place to put your money. Needless to say, people now buy real estate when they really need a place to live, and if the price is reasonable. It’s clearly a buyer’s market.

In hindsight, it’s easy to see now that what occurred in real estate during the boom years could not be sustained. It’s just not possible to defy the basics of growth and demand.  Past permanent and seasonal population growth estimates based upon the U.S. Census have been remarkably accurate. The amount of real estate that was transformed into development projects greatly exceeded projected population demands. This over-supply in real estate projects combined with the downward spiral in the ability of people to afford to buy them all combined to cause the inevitable to happen—a crash in the market.

Vacant, unused development projects now consume land that would be more productive economically and ecologically as woods, farms or wetlands. Had we asked harder questions about the actual demand for these new projects and where they should be located and how they were be provided with public services, the real-estate crash might have had a much softer landing on investors, taxpayers and workers. Instead, nobody — including government regulatory agencies, lenders and insurers — imposed significant constraints on these get-rich quick ventures.  As a result, investors learned the hard way what it means to speculate with their money.  Sometimes you do well with speculations, and then again, sometimes you don’t.

There is now the opportunity to learn from our mistakes, and put in place common sense land-use plans and regulatory requirements that will help to pace and direct development based upon the future needs of our coastal communities.  Those communities that do foster sustainable land uses based on reasonable growth projections and good environmental management programs will be much resilient to future economic and natural upheavals.

Dancing at the crossroads used to be young people´s opportunity to meet and enjoy themselves on mild summer evenings in the countryside in Ireland, and it is now a key metaphor in Irish cultural and political life.

It’s also an apt way to characterize the convergence of enthusiasm for low-impact development, or LID, in coastal North Carolina. Development, environmental and governmental interests are excited about LID and are working together to make it occur. LID intersects their interests and provides a clear roadmap to promote a sound economy and environment.

Lauren Kolodij

In the past several years, huge progress has been made in gaining acceptance for LID along our coast. Hats off to the work of Lauren Kolodij on our staff. She has been our LID ambassador. Her enthusiasm for LID has infected homebuilders, local governments, state agencies and politicians and resulted in changes to state and local rules that actively encourage LID practices.

Because of Lauren, we now have an active partnership with the homebuilders’ association in Wilmington in trying to promote LID. We had a story about it on our Web site last week.

The list of local governments that have amended their local codes and adopted tools to promote LID is impressive and consistently growing.  They include:  Brunswick County, New Hanover County, Pender County, Cape Carteret, Cedar Point, Columbia, Jacksonville, Manteo and Wilmington. The N.C. Division of Water Quality and N.C. Department of Transportation have included LID in their programs, and the N.C. Division of Marine Fisheries has installed LID practices at its headquarters in Morehead city.

And thanks to our educational programs, dozens of schools now sport rain gardens for education, and serious bio-retention basins that infiltrate a substantial part of their polluted runoff. Funding for these retrofits has come from corporations like Wal-Mart as well and government and private grants.

There’s still a huge amount of work left to accomplish before LID becomes standard operating procedure all along our coast. But there’s real hope that that day isn’t too far off given the willingness of diverse groups to actively dance together to promote LID.

Insurance companies calculate premiums based on the probability of claims. They often refuse to issue coverage for potential losses when the risks of someone collecting on insurance are too high.

You would think decisions to protect oceanfront buildings against beach erosion by pumping sand, moving inlets or building terminal groins would be made in a similar fashion. Such protection efforts are only worth pursuing when risks of losses once the projects are built are low. That’s why when such projects are considered a cost-benefit study is normally undertaken.

These studies attempt to evaluate whether the economic benefits resulting from these projects are worth the investments it takes to achieve them. It all sounds logical and simple. Don’t waste money paying for projects that cost more than the benefits they derive.

However, when it comes to determining the costs and benefits of projects proposed to protect oceanfront buildings, there is a fatal flaw in the cost-benefit analysis that is typically done.  These studies fail to adequately reflect the inherent risks associated with protecting buildings in such unstable, highly dynamic areas.

This became clear during discussions at the Coastal Resources Commission’s science panel meeting in December. Tom Jarrett, a member of the panel and an engineer who works for applicants who want to build terminal groins and other beach stabilization projects, told the group that oceanfront properties could still be severely damaged no matter what’s done to protect them.  Thus, he didn’t want projects he engineers to be blamed for losses that would occur whether or not his projects are built.

Jarrett’s concerns are well grounded.  A major hurricane or northeaster will cause lots of damage no matter what we do to try to mitigate their impacts. The probability of damage is so high that most private insurance companies no longer want to do business in these beachfront areas. Jarrett doesn’t want his projects to be blamed for damages that are inevitable whether or not his projects are built.

That’s fine and good; except that the analysis of costs and benefits used to justify projects he and others want permission to build do not factor in these inevitable losses either. Cost-benefit analysis generally assumes that property that is lost under a “no action” alternative will be saved when an “action” is taken. The 100 percent “saved” value is considered a direct project “benefit.”

But in reality, those long-term predicted benefits will only be realized if the ocean remains placid, and the tide never rises. It is much more likely that there will be significant property losses under any management alternative, but cost-benefit studies that account for those losses will show much less economic benefit associated with any preferred action alternative.

Probabilities of property losses under each management alternative during the projected life of a project need to be calculated.  These probabilities then need to be used to more accurately estimate project benefits. Estimates of economic benefits will change radically if you’re simply buying a few extra years for properties versus protecting them in perpetuity.

Clearly, property insurers are not confident that projects installed to protect oceanfront structures will work during major storm events. No insurance premium discounts are offered in locations where these projects have been constructed.   These areas are still view as highly hazardous.

Any economic analysis of benefits and costs that ignores these known risks is pure speculation when it comes to making cost-effective management choices, and little more than an exercise in wishful thinking.