this was the situation when i visited the park on the morning of january 4, 2022. during a brief conversation, a park attendant explained the absence of the animals. the weather was warm and the manatees only gathered in the park’s waters when they needed the artificial warmth generated by a nearby power plant. 

the warm conditions of that morning meant the only manatees i saw on that trip were plastic statues. it was disappointing for me as a wildlife photographer on a family vacation to florida –– but i do not begrudge the animals for not making an appearance. they were better off foraging for food while the weather was warm than huddling together in the aquatic equivalent of a climate refugee camp. these animals have suffered through a lot in the last few years and need every day of warm water they can get. 

florida’s starving manatees

the manatee population living along florida’s east coast has been suffering from an “unusual mortality event” or ume since december 2020. the florida fish and wildlife conservation commission (fwc) reported that 1101 manatees died across florida in 2021. for comparison, the fwc reported just 637 manatee fatalities in 2020. the number of manatee fatalities in 2021 jumped 476 deaths over the 5-year average of 625 fatalities a year. according to florida director of the center for biological diversity jaclyn lopez, the manatee deaths witnessed in florida between the beginning of the ume and february 2022 are equivalent to 12-13% of the state’s total manatee population. 

according to lopez and the fwc, the cause of the recent manatee death crisis is the collapse of the seagrass population in warm water areas that manatees in eastern florida use to survive the winter. high levels of nitrogen and phosphorus caused by human water pollution (such as agricultural and suburban waste water runoff) allow naturally occurring algae to grow into harmful algae blooms. these algae blooms block sunlight from passing through the water to the seagrass beds below, devastating the manatee’s main food source. the manatees are then forced to choose between congregating in warm water areas that no longer have enough seagrass to support them or venturing out into areas where the winter water is too cold for them to survive. 

both lopez and the fwc point to indian river lagoon as the epicenter of this crisis. according to lopez, the lagoon is kept at a toasty 68 degrees because of artificial warming created by discharge from a nearby nuclear power plant. it has traditionally been an indispensable wintering area for manatees, but now it no longer has enough seagrass to support the animals who gather there, causing mass starvation and numerous fatalities. 

emergency lettuce for manatees

the united states fish and wildlife service (usfws) and the fwc have responded to the ume with the formation of a joint incident management team with a joint unified command (uc) to coordinate the government’s response. under the framework of this taskforce, federal and state conservation officials have worked together to monitor the situation, keep the public informed, and minimize manatee casualties. the most drastic effort undertaken by the taskforce was a pilot feeding program in which officials would provide manatees with lettuce. according to the fwc, before the feeding program manatees would “completely fast or consume elements with no or little nutritional value, including sand or other debris.” the supplemental feeding trial was implemented in order to “reduce the negative health impacts of prolonged starvation and possibly reduce the numbers of deaths and manatees needing rescue.”

the manatees began to eat the lettuce wildlife officials placed into the water on january 20, 2022. the fwc does not currently have an estimate on the total number of manatees fed by the program. the number of animals visiting the temporary field response station (tfrs) in indian river lagoon, where the feeding was being carried out, varied, with a single-day high of 800 individuals. the feeding program was discontinued on march 31, since most of the manatees dispersed to better feeding grounds as the waters warmed. a scaled down uc is continuing to monitor the area for distressed manatees over the summer.

when asked about the feeding program, lopez called it a “necessary stopgap” and “an essential emergency measure” but argued it was not a viable long term solution. patrick rose, executive director of the save the manatee club, agreed with lopez, saying the program “cannot possibly be relied on for the long term future.” he also called the program “tragically necessary” and said that the need for it was “predictable” given the government’s failure to adequately deal with water quality issues. 

the lawsuits

three conservation groups, the center for biological diversity, defenders of wildlife, and the save the manatee club, have responded to the ume with lawsuits against the usfws and the environmental protection agency (epa).

according to lopez and rose, the conservation groups hope the lawsuit against the usfws will force the agency to update the “critical habitat designation” of florida manatees. critical habitat is defined as the air, land, food, and water essential for the survival of a species. rose explained that the current critical habitat designation for florida manatees was included in the original 1973 endangered species act and that it has not been expanded to keep pace with new science and regulations in the years since that law’s passage. the endangered species act requires federal agencies take into account how their policies impact the critical habitat of endangered and threatened species when crafting policy.

according to lopez and rose, the usfws actually agreed with environmental groups that the critical habitat designation for florida manatees needed to be updated back in 2008. however, the agency has so far not dedicated the needed resources to update the designation. the agency currently has until june 24 to answer the complaint of the conservation groups in court. lopez put the purpose of the lawsuit succinctly, saying, “if we protect manatee habitat, they won’t starve to death.”

according to the save the manatee club, the lawsuit against the epa over its failure to consult with the usfws on water quality standards and its inadequate enforcement of those standards was filed on may 10. 

when asked about the lawsuits, a representative of the usfws said: “the u.s. fish and wildlife service is aware of the litigation, but we do not comment on litigation as a matter of policy.” the agency also said that: “the existing florida manatee critical habitat designation includes the indian river lagoon at the epicenter of the ongoing ume.”

the uncertain future of a florida icon

in the long term, efforts will need to be made to restore water quality and manatee habitats so that these herbivorous marine mammals can thrive without human feeding programs. hopefully these changes are made so that tourists and florida residents alike will be able to enjoy the spectacle of seeing these wonderful creatures in the wild for generations to come.

i sat down with gowans, who specializes in cetacean (or marine mammal) research at eckerd. gowans leads the school’s dolphin project and collaborates with amy siuda, an eckerd associate professor of marine science, on a microplastics monitoring project. 

when i sat down with gowans, she told me that the red tide this past summer “was one of the most severe ones i’ve ever seen. i’ve been here now 18 years and i’ve never seen the level of fish kills that we saw in tampa bay.” 

in the following conversation, we discuss how the dolphin and microplastics research projects have been impacted by the piney point spill and the past summer’s red tide event. we also discuss the value of long term studies and the insight they provide when dealing with ecological disasters such as piney point.

—

this interview has been edited for clarity and length. 

kaitlyn copland: what research have you conducted that is related to the piney point spill? 

shannon gowans: amy siuda and i have had a long term monitoring project looking at microplastics in tampa bay. one of our monitoring sites that we’ve been monitoring for quite some time is close to the sunshine skyway, a bridge not that far from where the outflow was.

our initial concern was: how did this plastic barrier break down? and is it shedding microplastics into tampa bay? we found that the values that we got while the piney point outflow was going on were much, much higher than we’d ever seen before in our years of monitoring. 

we then set out to try to collect some more samples and try to see what was going on––and also to see if we could get some samples much closer to the outflow. we’re again seeing some elevated levels, but not as high as they had been.

the question is: were we getting elevated out-flow levels from piney point? there were so many boats in the area that it might have been stirring up sediments that may have had microplastics in them. or, was it after they started pumping the water that caused all this turbulence and registered things?

overall, we are not sure if these statements hold true. we’re continuing on with our long term monitoring to see what happens. microplastics were not the first level of concern with something like piney point, but because we had this long term monitoring program it was worthwhile to investigate.

kc: can you share how the dolphin project has been impacted? 

sg: currently, nutrient pollution is unlikely to harm marine mammals because the pollutants are not problematic for mammal’s health. we’re much more concerned about how the nutrient input that is having a long term impact on the ecology of tampa bay, and how that relates to these top predators.

we know that when we have harmful algal blooms that lead to large fish kills, we end up with issues with our dolphins because their food source has been largely removed. 

kc: how has the past summer’s red tide event affected the current dolphin population? 

sg: we didn’t see an uptick in mortality directly due to piney point, but we are concerned about what’s going to happen given the prey base that got lost with that red tide. it’s difficult to tie those two events completely together, but it is likely that these events may be related; the red tide was already present before piney point came in, but the nutrients that were released would fuel an algal bloom––which is exactly what we saw.

kc: was this past summer’s red tide more severe than in recent years?

sg: one thing is that it was within tampa bay itself and happened over a relatively short time period. that may mean that it didn’t impact all of tampa bay, which may mean fish and animals that are feeding on fish may be able to just move somewhere slightly different and find better conditions. 

so, we may not see that large an impact because it was a very intense event but over a short time period. in 2005, we had an exceptionally long red tide event that actually persisted over several years––there were high levels of red tide over several years. they weren’t as high as we saw last summer, but that’s what had a really profound impact on the dolphin population because they went through a long spell where their food––their prey––was produced. so, both can be problematic and it’s just going to be waiting and seeing what we end up with.

kc: do you have any thoughts on how this spill might play out over the coming months, and maybe even into the next year?

sg: so much depends on what happens with the interaction with the currents and the tides. at the initial input of nutrients, they were dispersing through skyway bridge and moving outwards into the gulf. piney point was initially very, very strong in tampa bay, but that has dissipated into the gulf of mexico. 

that’s also going to be something to watch because to remove (a lot of these nutrients) from the system they either have to be diluted in a larger quantity of water, or they end up in the sediments. if they get out to the deeper water into the sediments, then it’s harder to have storms that stir them up. in the shallow waters like tampa bay, those sediments can be easily disturbed by storms. so, again, it’s going to be seeing what happens to that nutrient influx. 

we don’t have the high algal counts right now that we were seeing earlier in the summer, but the nutrients haven’t completely disappeared from the system. we’re actually just starting to head into the time when we typically see larger red tide events, because red tide is typically a fall-winter event. seeing what happens to those is going to be something that we want to watch long term––and really looking at what kinds of larger-scale, ecological changes may be happening.

kc: if an event similar to piney point was to occur again, what do you think needs to happen? 

sg: what needs to happen is to have regulations to ensure that, if we have these phosphate reservoirs, (they) need to be well maintained, and, ideally, (regulations) working on removing them so that they’re no longer at this bar. that’s the work of land use policies and a lot of other people. 

we need to change legislation to hold the companies that are producing these pollutants responsible. even if the companies sold or closed down, they’re still the ones who created those pollutants.

kc: do you have any final thoughts, or something important to share about like the piney point spill regarding your research?

sg: i think one of the things that piney point shows is the value of having long term monitoring plans where we know what happened, what the conditions were like before something happens so that we can see what happened during the event, and then afterwards. 

if you go in at the crisis point, you don’t know what the conditions were like beforehand. yes, you can see what they’re like during the crisis point and what happened moving forward, but you don’t have that comparison. if we really want to understand what’s going on with our ecosystems and, if there is a catastrophic event, be able to then try to turn them back to those pre-existing conditions, we have to know what those conditions were. we don’t know if all we ever do is respond to catastrophe. we have to be monitoring (conditions) in the long term to see what’s going on and not waiting until it’s a crisis point.

—

the value of research

ultimately, long term monitoring research projects provide great value when mitigating ecological disasters similar to piney point. gowans’ research has discovered that plastic levels have increased significantly and the dolphin’s prey population––fish––have decreased. 

it is currently undetermined if the spill is the source of the elevated microplastic levels and increased severity of the red tide that killed the fish. this is an event that will play out over the coming months, and its effects will be determined by currents and tides.

for more information and updates on the piney point spill, visit protecting florida together.

the entire city of st. pete has implemented an ordinance banning plastic drinking straws. gina driscoll, vice chair of the st. petersburg city council, was one of the founders of the “no straw st. pete” campaign which ultimately led to the ban being passed in 2018. 

“it was never really just about plastic drinking straws,” driscoll said. “it was starting with that one simple object that grew into a bigger conversation about making better choices for the environment.”

an estimated 6300 million metric tons (mt) of plastic waste had been produced between 1950, when the large-scale production and use of the material began, and 2015, according to a study from that year. of that 6300 mt, a mere 9% has been recycled. another study showed that in 2010 alone, 275 mt of plastic was produced in 192 coastal countries. somewhere between 4.8 and 12.7 mt entered the ocean that same year. st. petersburg’s proximity to the florida gulf coast pins the municipality at the front of these issues. 

passionate about the environment and sustainability, driscoll wanted to figure out how st. petersburg could “lead the way” in getting rid of single-use plastics. during her first year on city council, driscoll came across an article about a ban on plastic straws in fort myers. 

“sometimes we find great ideas by looking at what other cities are doing,” driscoll said. 

this led to the formation of a campaign called “no straw st. pete,” which worked in collaboration with local organizations like “i love the burg” and suncoast rise against plastics coalition, even including the national bank ozk. businesses could pledge to go “straw free” and join the campaign, getting them a sticker on their door and more credit among environmentalists. by december 2018, the campaign had demonstrated that banning plastic straws could be viable. 

the suncoast rise against plastics (rap) coalition is composed of 17 institutions and environmental groups including tampa bay watch, st. petersburg audubon society, clearwater marine aquarium, and national groups like oceana. 

oceana field representative for the florida gulf coast, hunter miller, was involved with the st. petersburg straw ban from early on, meeting with the suncoast rap coalition and members of the st. petersburg city council. 

miller acknowledged that the coalition means more than just passing laws. volunteers work hard during beach clean ups and other events throughout the area, but the pollution problems still linger. 

“what we’ve found is, and what volunteers have found, is that those individual things are important, but they’re not going to get us to where we need to be,” miller said. “and that’s what really kind of brought the coalition together.” 

nevertheless, volunteers were a driving force behind this campaign, according to miller. after the “no straw st. pete” campaign started in early 2018, volunteers from the st. petersburg community went door-to-door to businesses to propose the straw ban and try to rally support. 

“it takes a village, really, when you want to get something ambitious done,” miller said. “but that strong volunteer legwork and people coming together is what it takes.” 

and businesses really were open to this idea of banning straws. miller said that a survey sent out to businesses after the ordinance was put in place showed “overwhelmingly positive” attitudes from businesses in response to the ordinance, and very few businesses in the st. petersburg area opposed it. 

according to driscoll, businesses were not forced to quit plastic straws cold turkey. there was a “phasing period” that started with straws being available by request only or in drive thrus. now, plastic drinking straws are not allowed anywhere in the city of st. pete, unless by special request due to medical conditions. 

kahwa coffee, a tampa bay coffee chain, is one business in st. petersburg that has been with this from the start in 2018. according to kahwa marketing associate natalie moore, the business is close to “i love the burg,” which is how they got on board with the “no straw st. pete” campaign. 

“we were one of the first to partner with them and start removing plastic straws from the company,” moore said. “also with the production of sippy lids, we kind of stray away from offering straws at all.” 

on behalf of the company as a whole, moore said that they have seen mostly positive attitudes from customers about the straw ban. 

“there always are people who don’t like it, but we do provide the alternative sippy lid so you don’t necessarily need a straw,” moore said. “but honestly, a lot of our customers are local and very involved with the community, and they’re completely on board with the no plastic straws.” 

additionally, kahwa has reusable plastic and metal straws available for sale.

there are 13 kahwa coffee locations across the tampa bay area, and even though straws are only legally banned in the st. petersburg locations, kahwa does not offer plastic straws at any of their locations, according to moore. 

that being said, if you go to a dunkin’ donuts in st. petersburg, you’ll likely be given a blue compostable straw instead of one made from plastic. but if you drive just ten minutes away to the neighboring city of gulfport, you’ll get a plastic straw from the same franchise. 

and that doesn’t just apply to dunkin’ donuts. gulfport also considered banning plastic straws the same time that st. petersburg did; but, the city council voted to table the consideration in 2018. similarly, st. pete beach, a separate township from the city of st. petersburg, lacks a ban on plastic straws. a lot of businesses in st. pete beach and all the beaches close-by do try to stay away from single-use plastic, but there is no law requiring them to do so. 

st. petersburg, gulfport, and st. pete beach are all in the same county. so at a county level, there are no laws against plastics. it’s at the smaller city level that some laws do exist. 

according to associate professor of marine science at eckerd college amy siuda, policy is one of the most impactful ways to reduce single-use plastic pollution. 

“having the codified (ordinance against plastic straws) is much more effective than just asking people to reduce their straw use,” siuda said. “because then it’s just not available. you can just remove those things from the system and people will find other ways to live without a plastic straw.” 

siuda has been at the college for six years and runs the tampa bay microplastics monitoring program with professor of biology and marine science shannon gowans. the program is a part of the larger tampa bay estuary program. 

siuda agrees that single-use plastics are something that can be avoided.

“single-use plastics are mostly unnecessary,” siuda said. “if we can reduce our single-use consumption, then we can reduce, hopefully, a lot of the harm that can be happening in the environment from plastics.” 

siuda and gowans’ monitoring research focuses mainly on microplastics and how these “invisible” plastics can be affecting all sorts of organisms. as a plankton ecologist, siuda has focused her attention on how these microorganisms, or copepods, are interacting with microplastics. gowans, a marine mammalogist, realized that a larger grazer is also being affected by plastics in the bay––manatees. 

while, according to siuda, the majority of plastics are coming from the land and not from river runoff, humans are not always the main transportation of these plastics. when terrestrial animals, like a squirrel for example, get ahold of these plastics while scavenging, they inevitably break those plastics down. 

“they’re dropping microplastics in the process of that, or breaking that thing down physically into smaller pieces that make it into the ocean as microplastics,” siuda said. “the big stuff is harmful to bigger organisms, but the little stuff is kind of harmful to everything.” 

siuda also added that larger plastics are capable of transporting invasive species across water systems, having serious negative impacts on ecosystems. 

this research and monitoring helps to buttress policies, and aids in educating others on the harms of single-use plastics and microplastics. according to siuda, education starts the process of getting support from people, which leads to policies. 

just by choosing not to take one plastic straw, consumers have the ability to limit the amount of single-use plastic going into the system. 

“i know it seems like one person can’t make a difference, but you have to start somewhere,” siuda said. 

the idea of starting somewhere small often leads to a larger-scale change. miller said that this is a driving force for systemic change. 

“what really brought people out to hit the pavement,” he said, “is the excitement to systematically address this problem through policy and knowing that the changes that they’re biting for locally are going to fuel the movement for bigger change at the state level, and the national level.”

––

editor’s note: this story is the first in the planet forward series “so long, single-use?” check back over the next several weeks for more stories about how communities and individuals can––and are––reducing single-use plastic waste.

luke strominger writes:

as a floridian and beachside resident, i value the importance of the environment in our everyday lives. without a sustainable environment, our economy will depreciate. each year millions of tourists travel to visit our pristine beaches, resulting in economic prosperity across the state. issues like sea-level rise and severe weather threaten the economic success brought by them. finding innovative market-based approaches and utilizing natural solutions to their greatest potential is key to solving these issues. for these reasons, i’m excited to visit glasgow and attend cop26 and gccs with the american conservation coalition. 

world leaders gather at cop26 to collaborate tackling climate change on a global scale. time and again these international discussions have inspired grand quotes and foreboding predictions over fruitful action. therefore, it’s incredibly important for the conservative point of view to be not only present but heard. conservatives seek pragmatic and commonsense solutions that can be acted upon now without the strain of bureaucracy. one of the leading conservative voices at cop26 is rep. john curtis, founder of the conservative climate caucus. he will be leading a delegation there, showing that both ideological groups are engaged on the climate. historically, conservatives have led on these issues. one such accomplishment was the enactment of the environmental protection agency under the nixon administration. 

there will be over 100 exhibitors and 200 events at cop26. given this, i plan to learn from and share my experiences with attendees and exhibitors, who are taking action in their communities. every region of the world has its own environmental challenges and natural solutions. it’s important to understand them in order to formulate an effective overall strategy. this is especially true when discussing a global approach to climate change. 

through my experiences in florida, i’ve seen how limited government, free markets and natural solutions have all intertwined to form an effective conservative approach. targeted state funding has helped protect our natural solutions, like the everglades, and increased our resiliency to sea level rise and hurricanes. the free markets have helped mitigate effects, such as mote marine laboratory, which has restored 100,000 corals in florida’s coral reef, an ecosystem that has suffered in part due to climate change. 

having said that, local action is the basis for global cooperation on climate change. actions like cleanups, forums, and events with local officials all play a role. it not only increases one’s knowledge of the issues surrounding their area but also motivates others to continue spreading awareness leading to the multi-tiered approach demonstrated in florida. if this is a focus of discussion at cop26, i believe we can truly 2022年卡塔尔世界杯官网 by having an understanding that tackling climate change should not be a one size fits all approach but a global partnership that takes every region’s challenges and solutions into account.

clay robinson writes:

arizona is ground zero for environmental action. the grand canyon state is growing at an exponential rate, both in population and industry, increasing our need for innovation in the energy sector and new technology for water storage and conservation capabilities. as an activist with the american conservation coalition, i look forward to visiting glasgow to attend cop26 and gccs to engage with on these issues and bring what i learn back to arizona.

as a native californian, i’ve experienced water shortage first-hand and the effects it has on the agriculture industry and residential population. for a majority of my childhood, i lived in a severe drought and learned at a young age to conserve water. when i moved to arizona, i had an understanding that water conservation would be just as important, especially in the desert. as arizona continues to grow, we need to manage our water efficiently and create new technologies that reduce waste.  

then there’s the emerging energy question: can arizona sustain its growth while providing quality, clean, and cost-effective energy supply? this is where cop26 and gccs will prove to be crucial to our future activism and policy advocacy in the state. the opportunity to hear from world leaders and organizations committed to solving the same environmental issues we face in arizona at this summit will be an invaluable experience.  

we have the opportunity to capitalize on the momentum happening in arizona. i’ve already seen how a market-based approach has been successful. arizona farmers are developing technologies that reduce water consumption, arizona’s competitive economy has invited several electric vehicle companies to produce the next solution in transportation, and our universities are working to sequester carbon from the atmosphere using carbon capture technology. innovation is alive and well in the grand canyon state, but there’s still more we can do.

there is not a one-size-fits-all solution to climate change. that’s why we need a market-based, innovative approach that focuses on issues in a local context. the american conservation coalition and its partners in the united kingdom and australia can play a key role at the summit by offering a competing perspective to the progressive narrative — one that works and has been proven to be successful. 

how can the conversation in glasgow help arizona find climate solutions to water and energy? global engagement will lay the foundation for local action in communities across our country, including arizona, because it presents a unique opportunity to learn from leading scientists, activists, and government officials who have taken action on these issues. the experience in glasgow will prove to be invaluable to our work in arizona as we build our strategy to advocate for water security and clean energy.

moving the planet forward will require more than rhetoric—it means taking action. the alarmist attitude will not solve climate change. rather, it will be a combination of common sense solutions and bipartisan conversations that will change the direction of our environment, especially in arizona.

—

about the authors:

luke strominger is a 2020 graduate of the university of central florida, and clay robinson is a sophomore at arizona state university. both are activists with the american conservation coalition and based in florida and arizona, respectively.

but this story’s strand ends and begins 20 years later and 1,100 miles away, on the last legs of a sun-filled melty kind of january day along otter creek. driving down from middlebury, vermont, swamp road carries you downhill with the orange orb of the sun in your rearview mirror as you descend into the kingdom of the swamp. the thin ribbon of road suddenly seems tenuous among an endless ice that maroons even the mighty bare trees, consuming the land and leaving behind bubbles and pools that reflect the pink of puffy clouds sailing overhead. from the vast cedar forests in the heart of the swamp to the north comes a gloomy wind that rattles along a lone leaf, interrupted only by a moo from a far-off pasture. for my first sojourn into the swamp, i had joined along with a swamp landowner and a bobcat hunter and had made sense of the swamp through their eyes, through the animal tracks they followed and beloved trees they owned. but on my own, the swamp spoke a language i couldn’t speak, a world that was tantalizing and eerily beautiful but locked beyond my reach. but i reminded myself that swamps are messy places, lacking the clear lines of a beach or of a mountain peak. thus the answers they give are never simple, weaving back on themselves like their winding waterways, creating far more questions than answers, and yet always drawing you deeper in. though a part of me whispered that my quest to find an understanding for or connection with the swamp in this strange new home of mine was futile, i couldn’t help but feel that with time, whether once the spring floods created a world of water, or summer created a buzz of greenery, the swamp might slowly peel back its secrets.

if thou canst not journey thither,
canst not find the lapland-highway,
hasten on a little distance,
in the bear-path leading northward…
swamps there are in which to wander,
heaths in which to roam at pleasure.”
— from the kalevala, epic of the finnish people, compiled by elias lönrot from traditional finnish singers

these questions and answers of the swamp weave their way back in my bloodline for the 700 years my mother’s family has farmed along the banks of the kemijoki river in finnish lapland. every summer our family returns for weeks or months at a time to the farm where she grew up. drawing one’s finger eastwards along a map, our small farm, clinging on to the river, soon gives way to mighty spruce and birch forests broken up by endless swamps indicated by broken blue lines. after all, the finnish word for finland is suomi, which literally translates to… swamp. it was in these swamps as a toddler that i first learned a kind of negotiation with the natural world, discovering its bounty of golden and violet berries, conditioning myself to its hordes of mosquitos, and learning a respect for its shape-shifting reaches where a careless wanderer could become hopelessly lost. i followed the footsteps of my grandmother and my mom, picking up scattered pieces and weaving stories of their swamp wisdom before i took my first steps on my own.

but in my first semester at middlebury college, the lack of any swamps in sight summed up how i felt in a new distant place—rootless without the people and landscapes of florida and finland that had created who i was and what i valued. even scenic sunsets over the adirondacks, or the very name of the college’s outdoors club, the middlebury mountain club, seemed to sneer at me with images of heartless granite peaks waiting to drop rocks or avalanches on me.

yet it was a weekend job pushing a brush mower in the dizzying heat of early fall amongst the woods and fields of orchards of professor marc lapin’s farm that i first considered that there may be more to vermont than i had given it credit for. lapin spent his weekdays as an environmental science professor at middlebury. but his weekend passion was working his land in nearby cornwall, vermont. his description of my project for the day soon turned into soft-spoken recollections and reflections on place, on the history and ecology of the champlain valley, on the abenaki indian word for otter creek, onegilwizbo.

biking my way back from his place one day, i was inspired to open a map of the champlain valley, and found highlighted in swaths of green and zig zags of blue — a vast swamp south of middlebury. it was the cornwall swamp, described as the most biodiverse wetland in all of new england. the more i learned about the swamp the more it presented a contradiction, or at least a question mark, to the image i had of vermont as a place devoid of the life i had found in florida.

as the first snows of winter fell, i learned that now deer and other wildlife would be finding a winter refuge in the swamp’s cedar forests. in the spring and fall, the swamp was a crucial stop-off for migratory birds, and in the summer a home to bear, moose, and bobcats. lapin sent me a report he had co-authored on the swamp, which offered that “those who have visited the swamp will concur that a combination of hydrology, periglacial geomorphology, vegetation development and forest history that includes both natural and human forces has shaped an incredible natural area. from aesthetic, emotional and spiritual perspectives, one need not know much about these things, but rather, only visit the swamp.”

in my new life that didn’t yet feel like a home, learning that there was a place that could be as mucky (apparently as deep as 26 feet) and buggy and wet as the swamps of florida and finland sounded like a call back home, my chance to find a watery way into vermont’s wild soul.

fitz and the swamp

somewhere deep in the northern reaches of the cornwall swamp, thomas “fitz” fitzpatrick — a swamp aficionado, historian, and a landowner — is on the wheel as we turn off the main road and bump along an icy dirt track, passing abandoned farm fields and an icy cattail swamp dammed up by beavers. as we ascend into a swamp island, a prominent “no trespassing” sign announces that we’ve arrived; we soon enter a parklike stretch of woods and walk our way down to a shoreline of cattails. as we enter, there’s a palpable change in fitz, as he laces every observation – from that patch of woods he hopes to turn into a meadow to this road lined with logs that he placed one by one – with a palpable sense of pride and ownership. this is fitz’s place.

i had found fitz on a quest to find a local who was well-acquainted with the swamp for my project, the kind of person of the swamp who looked away from the mountains and who had found amongst the muck and the bugs the song and wisdom of the swamp. it seemed a daunting task, and i procrastinated accordingly. but another middlebury professor, peter lourie, suggested contacting a friend of his, who in turn suggested contacting my new friend and local character, best known as fitz. i overcame my fear of driving in the ice for the first time to visit his home in east middlebury for an interview.

a spry 65, fitz came out to greet me and soon ushered me in to turn on a tv screen revealing a satellite view map of the swamp. it was an impressive expanse of green, bordered by the blue ribbon of otter creek to the east and sprawling into farms, woods, and roads. he calls it “the only real wilderness in the champlain valley,” just one piece of what really is a vast swamp that runs along otter creek for 15 miles, even though farms and drainage ditches fragmented it into smaller pieces. he asks me to take a closer look at what seems to be just a green monolith on the map, outlining a swamp “island” with drier land and mature hardwood trees, surrounded by a sea of wet, grassy swamp with dead trees. the 115 acres of swampland he owns and loves center around one of these swamp islands, places full of rich organic matter and life.

two days later, fitz and are finally on his beloved property, after a chance encounter on the road while bobcat hunting with barry forbes and his grandson cameron. we sit in plastic chairs on the waterfront, humbled by the view of a wide-open cattail marsh framed by breadloaf mountain and a sky of blue and swirly white clouds. the only sign of humanity is fitz’s hand-built plank dock that winds deeper into the marsh. waving his hand over the view, fitz narrates the poetry of the seasons of the swamp. in the springtime, mountain snowmelt creates a flooded landscape often 3-4 feet deep with water. the swamp becomes a haven for migratory birds that fill its canopy with birdsong. fitz invites me to join him this spring when “you can drive out to the islands with a boat,” for a swamp motorboat ride and an island barbeque — a tough offer to refuse.

then, says fitz, “the world just starts to grow.” as a profusion of plant life explodes in the summertime, it sucks up that water and the swamp slowly recedes. the peeling eaves of bark in shagbark hickory trees come alive with vast colonies of bats, including the endangered little brown bat. fitz shows me a photo of what i assume are hundreds of geese. but on closer look, i realize that they are deerflies that arrive “by the hundreds and thousands, and they scratch for blood.”

the legendary swarms of the swamps of finland have inspired mosquito killing championships. when a champion of the event was asked what he would do with the $350 in winnings from the competition, he said, “go someplace where there are no mosquitoes.”

the swamp takes a toll in other ways as well; because swamp trees live in more stressful conditions, fall comes early to the swamp, where peak foliage is already happening at the end of september. today the marsh is a brown slush, but when the swamp freezes over properly, fitz experiences the magic of what could never be a sport in florida’s swamps: ice skating.

“i’ve skated so much around and across that swamp that the only way i can get back is by following my tracks,” he said.

before the advent of electric or gas heating, a freeze in the swamp would prompt local families to bring in teams of horses and log and pull out trees from the rich cedar forests in the heart of the swamp for firewood. as we contemplate winter’s kingdom over the swamp, fitz rises and takes me on a walking tour around the edge of his swamp island. the dry park-like woods he actively manicures to our right become a flooded world of ice and pools our water to our left. we walk around what he calls “the mother tree,” a towering tree at the edge of the island almost 5 feet in diameter that seems to command the energy of everything around it.

fitz’ story in the swamp today began when he met and married his wife constance while living in alaska during the 1980s. he owned a salmon boat while she was a rehabilitation therapist. constance suffered from multiple sclerosis, a debilitative and progressive disease that leaves its victims bedridden and robs them of basic functions. they moved back to vermont in 1997 to seek treatment for constance. over the next 13 years, during the brief periods of respite from round-the-clock care for her fitz would find solace in visits to the cornwall swamp, returning to the place where he had hunted in his youth. as his fascination with the swamp grew with each visit, fitz searched local archives to track down old land titles and property maps of the swamp. piece by piece, he purchased what is now a 115-acre plot from sellers who sometimes didn’t even know they owned a piece of the swamp.

fitz’s trail camera captured this deer in his property in the swamp. behind are maps he has unearthed of ownership plots in the swamp- one from the 1910s and another from the late 1700s.
after his wife passed away in 2010, fitz devoted himself to working his land, felling trees, clearing trails, and constructing a dock as he prepares to build a cabin that will overlook the open woods and open marsh in the place he loves. as we return to his shoreline by the dock after a looping hike, fitz shows me a small series of gorgeous marble stones, incongruous in the dark earth. fitz plans to create a memorial for her out of a particularly smooth and beautiful marble slab. he will inscribe in stone the words from her obituary: “she lived so honestly, she gave so generously, she took so gracefully, and she loved so perfectly.” fitz usually bring forth a stream of eloquent observances and recollections. but now he is at a loss for words in a silence from a loss that words can’t capture. it hits home how much the swamp must mean to fitz. the zulu word ubuntu literally means “i am because of you,” and is often described as the community of life to which we belong, where each of us is a unique part that supports the whole. it’s a word that reminds of why fitz and i and all of us find such connection and meaning in our relations with family, with our community, with the natural world. in the wake of his loss, far more than just recreation, fitz found that participating in the constant renewal of life in the swamp has been a way to still go on living, immersed in creation’s healing and joys large and small while still celebrating her memory.

tracking and seeing in the swamp with barry

in the moment when i truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment i also love him. i think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves. and then, in that very moment i love them — i destroy them.”
— ender wiggin, ender’s game, by orson scott card

there’s a feeling that you get, yeah you’re happy you got the animal. but at the same time there’s the feeling in your mind: what do i do? i don’t have that particular animal to chase anymore. without a doubt, hunting is killing. some people it bothers. and i think it should bother you to a point. you’re taking another life. just got to look things over and give thanks.”
— barry forbes, lifelong hunter and trapper in middlebury (radio interview)

as a blue pickup truck rolls up, i’m instructed to hop in the back, where i’m promptly smothered by kisses from a hound dog by the name of harriet. i shake hands with barry and his grandson cameron, while trying not to set off the gun my legs are awkwardly wrapped around. i reflect that life can take you in funny places; this is certainly not the thoreauvian saunter of contemplation and robert frost poetry i had originally envisioned for my journey into the swamp. for starters, i am following barry, legendary lifelong trapper, tracker, and hunter. furthermore, we’re headed to the cornwall swamp to hunt bobcats, relying upon harriet’s tracking nose and chasing skills and barry’s generations of tracking and hunting knowledge. barry needs snow to track properly, and his dogs can’t walk on a crust of ice. a string of poor winters related to climate change have made bobcat hunting harder, but this year the conditions are finally holding up.

the truck halts without warning, and cameron hops out to peer at a promising track – bobcat. a back and forth begins. what did the cat weigh? how “hot” (fresh) are the tracks? as he hops back in, harriet’s occasional whines turn into a constant drone. barry coos “i know you’re anxious, huh girl?” barry owns 20 hounds that are crucial for tracking down bobcats, but the comforting noogie he gives her reveals his soft spot for them. barry explains “this is a dog we have a chance to own, she’s showing a lot of potential. she did a real good job for her first time out” yesterday, when she chased and treed a bobcat that eventually got away, as often happens. after all, barry only has a 10% success rate while hunting for cats. considering that their pelts may sell for only $40, it’s clear that the hunt has a meaning for him far more than any kind of business sense. a pick-up comes our way with a father and son out rabbit hunting. they pull up for a chat with the easy camaraderie of fellow hunters. barry quips, “i found with age i’ve slowed down a step with age. not two! just one.” although he is in his mid-60s, barry’s relentless quiet energy that allows him to spend all day tromping the swamps on the trail of bobcats.

we come upon a particularly promising track.

“there’s that 30-pounder.”

“not a bit of snow on those tracks.”

the tracks must be fresh. the hunt begins. they devise a plan: cameron and i are to follow a narrow, cleared alley of snow between two stretches of woods while barry and harriet pursue the main track. as we begin, my anticipation is dampened in my first step by a thorn that’s inflamed my right foot for the past two weeks, despite my excellent prescription of ignoring it and doing nothing. on the next step, i’m ruminating on all the possibilities through which my clumsiness and general inexperience will manifest itself dramatically and ruin everything for them. suddenly i spot a small brown ball running up a slope.

“what’s that?” i whisper to cameron while i wildly wave my finger. he looks up and his eyes light up.

“possum! hey, you’ve got a good eye.” cameron smiles. perhaps i might have a chance in the swamp after all.

when we come across cat tracks again, cameron lays down his middle finger into a toe mark. if it’s this size, the bobcat is big enough to hunt. but if it’s the size of his pinky finger, “we need to give them a few more years.” behind a split second of shooting action is endless periods of walking, analyzing, and understanding. barry and cameron know the swamp like the back of their hands, predicting how to trap a cat in a thicket surrounded by more open areas. the whole day i’ll continue to be quietly awed by the intimate knowledge and the stories barry and cameron find in tracks, the way they can put themselves in the place of a bobcat and in the wider landscape and imagine where it would rest, where it would hide, and where it would run.

as we cross a particularly icy part of the swamp, our feet sometimes plunging through the crackling ice into the muck below, a growing crescendo of high-pitched barks pierces our ears. harriet is in active pursuit, and we snap to a level of alertness i never knew i had. as we crash through the swamp after harriet, my pulse speeds at full tilt, every atom of my being is on the hunt, dodging branches and following the direction of her cries. i suddenly realize that exactly this, this thrill of the pursuit, this complete immersion, is what we were born to do from our days as hunter gatherers that ran animals down through our endurance. suddenly barry informs us on the radio that harriet is not after any kind of bobcat—she is astray on the trail of a coyote. we find harriet unchained and on the run and panically coax her to come to our side, lest misfortune befall a coyote or harriet or both. all of us huffing and puffing, barry arrives crestfallen. we’re at a loss as to what to do next; all the excitement has likely scared off the bobcat. i sense barry regrets that he may have let harriet go too easily; in a vocation where you only successfully get a kill 10% of the time, one is always learning.

yet in the aftermath of the excitement, i also feel an inappropriate sense of…. relief? it’s clear after spending any amount of time with barry that he does every action with a sense of deep morality and respect for the woods and for wildlife. but lord, what would i do if we shot a bobcat? a scenario plays on repeat in my head: after an epic chase, a graceful bobcat is fatally struck; i run over and cradle its head in my arms as i witness, in the words of aldo leopold, “a fierce green fire dying in her eyes.” oh, my feline comrade, oh worthy adversary, farewell to thee!

yet i remember that barry must confronts the truth of killing face to face, while i purchase it in neat plastic wrap at the supermarket that obscures the far worse cruelty within. in today’s florida, we turn our backs away from the swamps that surround us but kill them and their inhabitants with our hunger for new space for subdivisions and more water for our lawns. barry said “there aren’t many of us [traditional bobcat hunters] left… we’re a dying breed.” every year, fewer and fewer hunters are getting out into the woods in vermont and across the us—the number of hunters in vermont has declined by 2% every year since the 1960s. barry expresses regret that so many of us spend much of our time behind a computer, and hopes more people can “just get out into the woods.”

perhaps the world needs barrys and camerons, those who can return to live in the hunter’s landscape that we once all called home, of living in tracks and signs and reading hummocks and clusters of trees where the swamp comes alive. during my first semester at middlebury, i mostly explored the woods of vermont in the tunnel of well-worn trails, breezing past the unfamiliar woods on the way to a scenic vista, feeling like a stranger in these woods. it’s missed something, missed something the strand of something i felt on summer days in finland my sisters and i would race rusty bikes to lassinjänga swamp, named after my great-uncle lassi eilitta. there we would drop our bikes to hop over a ditch and step into the swamp, hopping between carpets of moss to scan for orange hilla, berries that only grow in these swamps of the far north. each july, their emergence sparks a national obsession called “hilla fever,” as families like ours return to the same swamps that we have for centuries, bringing a thermos of coffee to spend the whole day hunting for hilla. like any bobcat hunter knows, a real hilla picker can’t just show up in the swamp and find one’s quarry patiently prostrate. it entails suffering, trudging miles through the bog and sometimes plunging into the water and muck, losing what feels like pints of blood to hellacious mosquitoes. it requires listening to the swamp, reading patches of grass and clusters of pines that may hint where the next island of golden berries may be amongst a mossy sea.

barry says that despite the thrill of a successful kill, “it’s not whether we get something or not, it’s about being out there with the dogs”. for him, hunting’s meaning is ultimately in something like the spirit of ubuntu, being out in the woods, depending upon his dogs and his hunting partner, learning from the animals he hunts. sometimes after hours of moving from one hilla berry to the next deep in the swamp, you realize that you have suddenly forgotten any sense of self amongst the sphagnum and the sun. you follow the same rhythm as the 30 generations of your family who have picked the same berries in the same swamp for 700 years.

back at middlebury, i collapse exhausted into my bed for a deep afternoon sleep. in confused dreams, i see a vivid image of a bobcat track, blue in the melting snow. i imagine the swamp crisscrossed with tracks of possums, coyotes, deer, and cats, their stories weaving in and out of each other and bringing the swamp to life with the hidden mysteries of their lives. tomorrow, barry, cameron, and harriet will again be on the pursuit deep in the swamp. fitz will be out in his piece of paradise, taking in his view of the cattails and bread loaf mountain. and my gut tells me that though i may be hemmed in within four walls and fluorescent walls for the next few days or weeks, soon the swamp will call again, and i’ll be there again, somehow finding my place in the swamp.

—

this piece originally published in winter term 2018: https://sites.middlebury.edu/adventurewriting2018/student-work/oscar-psychas/

while the florida keys government and environmental groups are bracing for sea level rise, what do residents think? this podcast episode examines residents’ opinions on sea level rise and the most concerning environmental issues facing the keys.

most people i spoke to acknowledge that sea level rise is an issue, but it isn’t their main concern. instead, they are most worried about protecting the reefs and reducing consumption of single-use plastics. one man says he doesn’t believe oceans are rising.

younger generations will likely be more directly affected by changes due to sea level rise. high school senior jillian duclo says she is already noticing the effects of rising oceans. hear from her and others in this final episode.

the first podcast episode in this series covers what sea level rise looks like in the keys. in the second episode, hear about the economic impacts of sea level rise in the keys. 

the florida keys are making changes as sea levels rise, and every change comes with an immense cost. for example, people are adapting to nuisance flooding by elevating the roads, which is an expensive process for the keys government. in fact, it can cost about $10 million to elevate a mile of road two feet, and the county has over 300 miles of roads.

residents face the expense of elevating their homes, as well. currently, regulations about raising homes are intended to prevent flooding from hurricane storm surges, but this will also help protect homes from the effects of sea level rise: higher storm surges and more permanent flooding in the future.

additionally, if sea level rise deters tourism to the keys, every level of the economy from the government to businesses to individuals would be affected. 

in this podcast episode, hear about economic impacts of sea level rise in the florida keys.

the previous episode covered what sea level rise looks like in the keys. next, in the third and final episode of this series, i talk to keys residents about their opinions on sea level rise. you can find that episode here.

“i’m not betting on the fact that we’re going to save any of this. i’m betting on the fact that this is all going to change.” – chris bergh, the nature conservancy

a chain of low-lying islands, the florida keys, are already affected by sea level rise. plant and animal species, such as south florida slash pines and key deer, are losing their habitats as oceans rise and saltwater encroaches on their territory.

 

keys residents are also impacted by sea level rise, which causes nuisance flooding and worse storm surges and threatens future permanent inundation of some areas of the islands. 

in this first episode, i investigate what sea level rise looks like in the keys and some ways in which people are preparing for ever rising levels.

next, hear about the economic impacts of sea level rise in the keys. you can find the second episode in the series here. the third and final episode, in which i talk to keys residents about their opinions on sea level rise, can be found here.

pielet was the first speaker of the day.

“my entire life has been plagued by the words ‘now is the time to act’ but my generation cannot do this alone,” she said to the crowd, and they cheered in response.

inspired by greta thunberg, the 16-year-old climate activist from sweden famous for starting fridays for future, young people around the world organized local climate strikes. in this worldwide call for climate action, the city of st. petersburg joined in on a momentous day.

pielet was originally drawn to the issue of climate change through her love of animals and the environment. as a child in illinois, she would regularly ask to visit the zoo, aquarium, or go to a park so she could spend time outside and observing animals.

although far from home, she was drawn to the mystery of the oceans in particular, which is why eckerd’s campus was an appealing option for college. the liberal arts school sits on florida’s gulf coast, and on any given day you can see dolphins from the campus’s beach, making it a popular place for marine science and environmental studies students. today pielet stands as the president of eckerd college’s “scubi jews” club, a scuba diving club facilitated by eckerd college’s campus rabbi. as the leader of scubi jews, pielet organizes events such as waterfront clean-ups and dive for debris, where dive-certified students can help clean up the trash found at the ocean floor.

now, looking into the crowd of faces at the climate strike, pielet continued: “we have everything to gain from climate action and everything to lose from inaction.”

the responding enthusiasm from the crowd was infectious. that support likely comes from witnessing climate change, firsthand.

florida faces serious impacts of a changing climate — some of which have already been felt by the intensified hurricanes and sea-level rise. both will continue to worsen if nothing is changed. 

tourism is a large part of florida’s economy, thanks to its beautiful beaches and other recreational opportunities, seafood, and amusement parks. impacts of the climate crisis are an immediate threat to florida’s economy, which is why, pielet said, we need to talk about the money. 

“there will be so many jobs if we start trying to build more green infrastructure, and renewable energy,” she assured. 

the biggest roadblock? political will, pielet said.

one of the struggles in making progress is that many have a different idea of how to go about addressing this issue, or not addressing it at all.

“i don’t think it’s about trying to convince people that (climate change) is real or not,” pielet said, “but it’s more so just voting them out… and voting in people who are serious about it.”

with the 2020 presidential election coming soon, addressing the issue of climate change is more urgent than ever. many who are concerned about the environment are looking for candidates with a climate plan.

the city of st. petersburg proves that important action can be taken at the local level, too. in april 2019, st. petersburg adopted an integrated sustainability action plan, which outlines a blueprint for the city to be fossil fuel-free with a thriving economy by 2035. the plan includes implementing more public transportation and bike routes. 

as i sat speaking to pielet in the park while her dog zoomed around us, i noticed the determination in her voice and the purpose in her tone.

“finally, the pressure is on,” she said.

there are many factors that make switching to a green economy complex, she explained, but it is doable — and our future depends on it. 

after seeing the turnout at the st. petersburg climate strike, where 1,200 people gathered on sept. 20 to demand action, pielet said, “this is the most hope i’ve ever had… this could truly be a turning point.”

we have the groundwork laid out, and now it’s just a matter of acting on it.

the sunshine state’s underground freshwater reserves are being drained at an alarming rate, threatening the drinking water of millions, and severely damaging the complex ecosystem of the water cycle.

state and local governments already are working on solutions, but experts are calling for firmer action.

“if we just keep going the way we are going now, we are likely to be in trouble in the not too distant future,” said todd crowl, a professor at florida international university in the department of biology and director of the southeast environmental research center.

“the supply is finite, but the access to it is not finite. it’s limitless,” said robert glennon, regents’ professor and professor of law and public policy at the university of arizona. glennon studies water policy around the world and believes that florida is part of a greater water crisis in the u.s.  

“we americans are spoiled. we wake up in the morning, and we turn on the faucet and out comes as much as we want, for less than we pay for cell phone service or cable television,” glennon said. “most of our fellow citizens, when they think of water, if they think of it at all, they think of it as the air, infinite and inexhaustible, when for all practical purposes it is quite exhaustible, so we take it for granted.”

the associate director of the florida springs institute, heather obara, said, “we have a lot of overpumping of our aquifer, meaning that the demand for water in florida is really high, and we are using more water faster than our aquifer can replenish itself.

“we have a lot of water usage here in florida, such as large scale agricultural usage, as well as urban residential usages that are depleting the aquifer at a rapid rate,” she said.

this depletion of groundwater is a problem throughout the state, with both southern and northern florida experiencing shortages and environmental effects, according to the florida department of environmental protection. many of florida’s biodiverse ecosystems are dependent on freshwater to be clean of pollutants and at a certain water level to function.

the florida dep’s most recent water management assessment states that without new planning efforts, “existing sources of water will not adequately meet the reasonable-beneficial needs for the next 20 years.”

springs are a visible health indicator

in north florida, the natural springs are one of the best indicators of the health of the aquifers, obara said. the freshwater flows up from the underground aquifers into these springs through cracks in the limestone.

the florida springs institute, which studies north florida’s aquifers, has documented a significant drop of freshwater flowing into springs. according to a study they conducted in 2018, average spring flows in florida have declined by an estimated 32% from 1950 to 2010.

another consequence of low flow in springs is that nitrogen is polluting the ecosystem. according to obara, runoff inundated with nitrogen and phosphorus from agriculture and septic tanks is entering the water system, which shifts the balance of the whole ecosystem. nitrogen is fuel for plant growth, and when there is an overabundance of nitrogen in the springs, there are massive algae blooms. obara explains that without a strong flow, the springs cannot flush the algae out of the system, which ends up killing food sources for animals and disrupting the food chain.

“we thought we could just use and use that water, and now we’re dealing with the reality,” obara said.

the everglades is just as vital to the water cycle

unfortunately, the water crisis is not limited to north florida. statewide population growth has caused more and more land to be claimed for residential use. and local governments continue to authorize the drilling of new wells — and to expand development into swamps, despite the wetlands acting as a filter for water entering the aquifer.

like the springs in north florida, the everglades — a unesco world heritage site and a designated international biosphere reserve — is an integral part of south florida’s water cycle. the everglades plays a vital role in the delicate equilibrium required to maintain the aquifers by keeping a pressure counterbalance against saltwater pushing its way into the aquifer, said crowl, the florida international university professor. as the water drains out of the aquifer and the everglades, saltwater begins to intrude into freshwater reserves.

“it’s just a simple pressure problem,” crowl said. but the problem is only worsened by rising sea levels, which are increasing the pressure, he said. crowl studies the salinity of underground well water, sampling more than 100 wells throughout south florida.

crowl was not ready to make any predictions without continued monitoring in the future, but he did say “we are getting higher and higher concentrations in more and more of our wells where we measure saltwater intrusion. watching the rate that’s happening is a little bit scary.”

the government has a plan, but…

the florida department of environmental protection is one of the multiple statewide government agencies that are studying the problem and collaborating with local governments to address the crisis.

in a report published in 2017, the dep projected that between 2015 and 2035, the population in florida will grow by 27%, to 25.2 million, and that public demand for water will increase by 23%.

the dep has formulated a plan to address the increasing dependence on the aquifer. in the same 2017 study, they proposed 747 projects around the state to conserve water, costing $3.7 billion. the majority of the projects either use water reclamation or call for treatment of brackish groundwater.

but these projects seem to only treat the crisis, rather than address the underlying problem. obara and crowl both believe the most crucial step to addressing the crisis and eventually reverse it, is to commit to conserving the natural aquifer.

with one hand, florida’s state and local governments seem committed to fixing the problem, but with the other hand, they continue to take actions that seemingly contradict that first commitment. the miami-dade county commission recently approved the construction of american dream miami, a massive megamall, larger than the mall of america in minnesota. american dream will have 2,000 hotel rooms, an indoor ski slope, an ice-climbing wall, and a water park with a “submarine lake.” the project is now working to secure environmental and water permits for the 174-acre site, which is a previously developed area adjacent to the everglades.

“there really hasn’t been a good emphasis on conservation in florida,” obara said. “we need a shift in the mentality here in florida that we haven’t had before. we have always looked at the environment as a resource rather than something that not only benefits our health for our environment to be healthy, but it also benefits our state’s economy.”

“the point is if we don’t get the everglades restored pretty quickly to have freshwater to push back saltwater, we are going to be in a world of hurt,” crowl said.

so what can be done?

glennon suggests using economics and policy as a possible solution. he believes if the government increases the price of water, the natural economic response will be to conserve the resource. “it is a matter of supply and demand,” he said.

glennon still believes that access to water should be a human right, and suggests that 12-to-15 gallons per person, per day should be subsidized, avoiding penalizing those who cannot afford the price increase. glennon also calls for reform within agriculture, proposing that farms need to change their methods.

“i think the farmers developed their farms at a time when water was plentiful, and they’re doing what they’ve always done, using water the same way,” glennon said.

florida’s water problem is complicated and challenging to fix, but the outlook is still positive. according to crowl, it is possible to reverse saltwater intrusion, the health of the everglades can be restored, and the aquifer can be allowed to refill. for florida, there is still time to reverse the crisis.

“i am optimistic. is there a crisis? you bet there is. but can we do something about it? yes, and what we want to do is act before the crisis turns into a catastrophe,” glennon said.