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horseshoe crab Reeds Beach Delaware Bay

Building a Stronger Delaware Bay

This guest post was written by “Captain Al” Modjeski, Habitat Restoration Program Director for the American Littoral Society, as part of our #StrongerCoast campaign. Here, Captain Al describes work to restore multiple beaches along the Delaware Bay.

horseshoe crab Reeds Beach Delaware Bay

A horseshoe crab on the sand at Reeds Beach. Photo credit: Steve Droter

In 2012, Hurricane Sandy’s powerful westerly winds caused a storm surge so strong it stripped the sand right off most of the beaches on the New Jersey side of Delaware Bay. The sand was washed into adjacent marshes, exposing large sections of peat and leaving the sand well above high-tide line.

In the storm’s aftermath, conservation groups rallied together with community and state leaders, local biologists, and local contractors to deal with the environmental damage.

“It was a crisis response; we were racing against a firm deadline of the horseshoe crabs arriving on the beach,” said Tim Dillingham, executive director of the American Littoral Society. “But we were also intent on rebuilding habitats along Delaware Bay in order to strengthen the ecology, communities, and economy of that area. We set out to build partnerships and relationships that would invest everyone in working for a healthy and resilient Delaware Bay.”

The immediate concern was that nearly 70 percent of horseshoe crab beach habitat was destroyed and its loss imperiled not only the horseshoe crabs that spawn there, but also shorebirds like the Federally listed red knot, which stop on those beaches each spring to feed on crab eggs before flying to their nesting grounds in the Canadian Arctic. The birds and crabs help fuel a multi-million-dollar annual ecotourism industry in New Jersey’s Bayshore region.

“The horseshoe crabs can’t lay eggs on these beaches because the exposed sediment is anoxic [devoid of oxygen]. If the crabs were to lay eggs here, they would just die,” said local biologist Larry Niles. “In just one day, these very important beaches went from highly suitable to unusable.”

horseshoe crabs Thomspons Beach Delaware Bay

Horseshoe crabs spawning on Thompsons Beach as restoration finishes just in the nick of time. Photo credit: Shane Godshall, American Littoral Society

Within days after the storm had passed, just over a mile of damaged horseshoe crab beach habitat was restored. With further funding from the Service and National Fish and Wildlife Foundation, the team was able to continue efforts and by 2017 had restored eight Delaware Bay beaches to their pre-Sandy footprints by bringing in more than 200,000 cubic yards of coarse-grained sand and removing 2,000 tons of rubble. The team also designed and constructed five inter-tidal oyster reefs to keep the sand on the beach, while beginning work to restore portions of the marsh behind those beaches.

“No one seemed to care about [Reeds] beach before,” said local resident Harry Bailey. “Storms came and destroyed the beaches, and no one came to fix it. These organizations came in; now the beach is built up, the horseshoe crabs are back, and birders from all over the world come here to see the birds.”

Harry Bailey Reeds Beach

Harry Bailey, resident of Reeds Beach. Photo credit: Steve Droter

“The economy of Cape May County is so heavily tourism dependent, and more and more people come to the bay because of the scenic beauty and the wildlife,” said Cape May-Lewes Ferry Marketing Manager Michal Porch. “It’s in our best interest to maintain the economy and peoples’ jobs by protecting and preserving the environment.”

For the construction companies involved, millions of dollars of the grant funding went directly to them and further stimulated local businesses indirectly.

“It’s what drives our economy down here,” said JR Heun of H4 Enterprises. “Without the tourism, the infrastructure wouldn’t be there for us to have our workload.”

However, this restoration may mean more to the bay communities, the residents, the businesses, and the economy of the bay than simply protecting streams of revenue.

“Our restoration did not just restore the ecologic resource value for birds and crabs, but it also restored Bay-wide faith and hope. In the face of despair, the Bay community saw it had not been forgotten and people’s lives could be restored and even improved,” said Capt. Al Modjeski, Habitat Restoration Program director for the American Littoral Society.

As part of the restoration, the Society began a paid U.S. Military Veteran Intern Program, where local veterans were hired to help with the restoration work and monitoring.

That program “has given me something to do and I’m learning as I’m doing it, so I’m enjoying it tremendously,” said U.S. Army Veteran William Anderson, regarding his internship.

reef building Thompsons Beach Shell-a-Bration

Tim Dillingham, American Littoral Society executive director, tosses shell bags to Beth Freiday of the Service during the 3rd Annual “Shell-A-Bration” at Thompsons Beach. Photo Credit: David Hawkins, American Littoral Society

The Society also held Local Leader Focus Groups to engage surrounding municipalities and community events like annual “Shell-a-Brations,” where hundreds of volunteers were involved in constructing the oyster reefs at restored beaches. Tying together all of those other efforts were yearly “Veteran’s Day on the Bay” gatherings, where the reefs were named to honor U.S. military veterans and the resolve of the Bay community to persevere against all odds.

“I think it’s very important that with this project, these organizations are helping both veterans and youth as well as educating people about the environment and how important it is to take care of it,” said former mayor of Middle Township Tim Donohue. “It’s good to get kids and families involved in the project to understand the significance of the Bay.”

Though it has been only five years since the storm, the Society and its partners hope to continue to holistically restore the Bay, and thereby help create even more sustainable and resilient natural and human-built communities that are informed by events of the past in order to be better prepared for the future.

At Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge, Mother Knows Best

A new video from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service offers an overview of the coastline and salt marsh restoration at Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge on Delaware Bay. “Building a Stronger Coast: Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge” is a behind-the-scenes look at how engaged partners and visionary science came together to improve conditions for wildlife and the local community.

After Hurricane Sandy breached the beach at Prime Hook, spilling salt water into an area long managed as a freshwater marsh, refuge staff decided to work with Mother Nature to build a stronger coast.

“We know that we’re going to see more-frequent intense storms,” said Refuge Manager Al Rizzo, “so we didn’t want to put it back into a situation that was vulnerable to the next storm.” Credit: Citizen Racecar

The $38-million project, supported by federal funding for Hurricane Sandy recovery, rebuilt 4,000 acres of marsh and one mile of dune and barrier beach over 18 months. The restoration, one of the largest and most complex of its kind on the Atlantic Coast, enhances habitat for migratory birds and other wildlife. It also makes the coast more resilient to future storms and sea-level rise.

A suction-cutterhead dredge expands the width and depth of one of the primary channels in the marsh. Credit: USFWS

The refuge is an important stopover site for migratory shorebirds, including federally threatened rufa red knots, which rest and refuel there during their long migrations along the Atlantic Coast. Delaware Bay also has the world’s largest population of horseshoe crabs, which spawn in the spring. The birds can eat their fill of the crab eggs, then be on their way north.

For decades, refuge staff managed the marsh as freshwater habitat for ducks and geese by blocking tidal flow from the bay. Hurricane Sandy flooded the marsh with sea water, killing the freshwater plants.

After closely studying state-of-the-art computer models, managers decided restoring the marsh to its natural state was the way to go. It is open once again to the ebb and flow of the tides, which will let salt-marsh plants and wildlife return.

“The project is an investment that is already paying off,” said U.S. Sen. Tom Carper (D-DE), who is featured in the film. “The dunes are holding up, the marsh is rebounding, and wildlife is thriving. I hope other areas of our country — and the world — can learn from this success.” Credit: Citizen Racecar

The restored marsh will buffer the effects of storms and sea-level rise, protecting private property and public infrastructure, such as roads. Acting like a giant sponge, the marsh will absorb water to reduce flooding. It will also offer recreation, such as fishing, hiking, and wildlife watching. A new low, wide dune and barrier beach offer a natural defense against rising water.

Managers will use storm-tide sensors, placed in the marsh, to gauge the project’s success. The sensors measure wave height, speed, force, and extent during storms. The information will help scientists create better models for storm surge and flood forecasting, as well as understand how restored marshes spread out storm-tide and wave energy.

“Federal funding for Hurricane Sandy recovery has provided us with a window of opportunity to protect this fragile marsh, while also helping protect our coastal bay-front communities from flooding,“ said Delaware Sen. Gary Simpson (R-Milford), who is interviewed in the video. Credit: Citizen Racecar

Returning the coastline to a more natural state makes it a healthier place for both wildlife and people to live — proving that sometimes, Mother really does know best.

View the video here.

Red knots battle climate change—on both ends of the Earth

Today we’re sharing a story from Audubon Magazine written by Deborah Cramer, author of The Narrow Edge: A tiny bird, an ancient crab, and an epic journey. The tiny, threatened red knot is an omen for how devastating ocean acidification can be.

The vast, unbroken beach at Bahía Lomas stretches for about 30 miles along the Strait of Magellan in Tierra del Fuego, at the southern end of South America. I’ve stood for hours hoping to see shorebirds in this remote, inhospitable place, where the wind blows at hurricane strength, the trees are forced into a permanent lean, and the ebbing tide disappears beyond the horizon, about four miles away. When it returns, rushing in over the wide mudflat, shorebirds follow, thousands of them, appearing first as puffs of smoke in the distance, then in large flocks, rising and falling in smooth, sinuous curves. They alight on the mud, and I am surrounded by birds.

They are mostly Red Knots, sandpipers that have come to winter on this vast beach. Slightly larger than robins, Red Knots travel some 19,000 miles every year, sometimes flying for six or eight days at a stretch without stopping to rest or feed. Their marathon journey, from one end of the Earth to the other and back again, distinguishes the Red Knot as one of the avian kingdom’s most accomplished fliers. Ornithologists have long recognized the knot as sublime. Alexander Sprunt Jr., preeminent South Carolina ornithologist, writer, ardent conservationist, and, from 1935 to 1973, supervisor of the National Audubon Society’s southern sanctuaries, saw more than his share of charismatic birds, including colorful Carolina Parakeets and fabled Ivory-billed Woodpeckers. To Sprunt and his colleague E. Burnham Chamberlain, writing in the 1949 edition of South Carolina Bird Life, the small, less conspicuous knot nonetheless held a special place, representing “an untrammeled wildness and freedom that is equaled by few and surpassed by none.”

red knots

Red knots at Mispillion Harbor, Delaware. Delaware Bay hosts the largest concentration of the rufa red knot subspecies during the spring, when knots on their marathon migrations stop to refuel and take advantage of the largest gathering of horseshoe crabs in the world. Credit: Gregory Breese/USFWS

Curious about how such small birds can manage such extraordinary journeys, I followed them—from the treacherous shoals along the Magellan Strait, to a crowded resort in Argentina, up along the East Coast of the United States, into the icy Arctic, and then back, along the muddy shores of James Bay, through the dense fog of Quebec’s Mingan Islands, and then into the bay behind my home in Massachusetts. I found them there one autumn day—young birds that a couple of months earlier had walked half a mile, perhaps a mile, from their nests to the sea, and then, inconceivably, begun their first long migration, along a route they’d never traveled, to a destination they’d never seen. The story—of their tenacity and the tenacity of the hundreds of people I met along the way dedicated to providing the birds safe passage—became my 2015 bookThe Narrow Edge: A Tiny Bird, an Ancient Crab, and an Epic Journey.

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Just as the book was going to press, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service listed the rufa Red Knot as threatened under the Endangered Species Act, the first U.S. bird listed explicitly because its existence is imperiled by global warming. The knot they describe, Calidris canutus rufa, is one of six subspecies of Red Knots worldwide, distinguished by its Eastern Seaboard migration. Since 2000 the rufa Red Knot’s population has declined by roughly 75 percent at key stopovers. Threats to the bird, according to the USFWS, are likely to put the rufa Red Knot “in danger of extinction in the next few decades.”

One might think a bird that each year flies the length of the globe and back—a bird that finds sustenance and shelter in places as widespread and diverse as the Jersey Shore, the Arctic Circle, and the Magellan Strait—might be immune to the warming planet; might, if one of its homes or stopovers becomes unsuitable, simply find another. It’s more complicated than that.

In 2014 the National Audubon Society’s science team published the results of a seven-year study showing how global warming might affect North America’s bird species in the coming decades. The Audubon Birds and Climate Change Report showed that of 588 North American bird species considered, 314 of them could lose more than half their range by 2080. That means that for these birds, the area with the climate conditions they need to survive will shrink or shift so dramatically that they’ll be left with less (often far less) than half of the suitable range that exists today. It’s an alarming prediction, particularly when there’s no guarantee the birds will find new habitat elsewhere.

red knot

A red knot parent and chicks near Hudson Bay (northeastern Canada). The females generally depart a few days after the eggs hatch, leaving the males to tend the young until they’re old enough to fly. Fortunately, baby Red Knots—as is true with most other sandpipers—can forage for themselves as soon as their down is dry and they can walk, which happens within a few hours of hatching. Credit: Brad Winn, from Audubon website

Shorebirds spend their lives at the delicate places where sea meets land—one of the front lines of climate change—and are therefore particularly vulnerable. In 2014 scientists led by Michael Reed from Tufts University and Hector Galbraith, then at the Manomet Center for Conservation Sciences, reported that global warming exacerbates the risk of extinction for nearly 90 percent of North American shorebirds. The team evaluated threats the birds may face in a warming world, including a shrinking tundra; rising seas; ocean acidification; increasingly stormy weather; and dependence on specialized environments, such as Delaware Bay. In their analysis, even at its lowest sensitivity, 20 populations of North American shorebirds, including the Red Knot, would fall into the U.S. Shorebird Conservation Plan’s highest-risk category—“highly imperiled.” As their world heats up, Red Knots are threatened almost everywhere along their flyway: The warming, acidic sea inhibits the growth of the shellfish the birds need to fuel their impressive migration; rising seas may flood their seaside homes; rising temperatures threaten to shrink their Arctic nesting grounds and expose them to more predators. No matter where they go, no matter how many new homes they might seek, Red Knots can’t escape the effects of global warming.

To power their long migrations, these tiny birds require phenomenal quantities of energy-rich food. Along the route, they gorge on tiny mussels and clams, horseshoe crab eggs, and sea worms, packing in energy for the flights ahead, burning it off on the wing, and then refueling again at the next stop. In Delaware Bay they nearly double their weight—a metabolic feat that would likely make any human attempting it seriously ill but that crowns knots as powerhouse long-distance fliers and one of the animal kingdom’s most rapid and efficient energy consumers. Ocean acidification, a largely invisible consequence of global warming, may soon compromise the quality of Red Knots’ food, if it hasn’t already.

Tagging red knots on Cape Cod. The yellow tag is a geo-locator; the lime green alphanumeric flag means it was banded in the U.S. Credit: USFWS

Tagging red knots on Cape Cod. The yellow tag is a geo-locator; the lime green alphanumeric flag means it was banded in the U.S. Credit: USFWS

As carbon dioxide emissions rise, the pH of seawater drops, and it becomes less saturated with aragonite, a mineral clams, mussels, oysters, and scallops require for building strong shells. In increasingly acidic seawater, these animals’ shells are smaller, thinner, and weaker, and their larvae grow more slowly, with fewer surviving to settle on the sea bottom. Mussels are unable to cling to their homes on rocky tidal flats. In a 2012 symposium, the International Geosphere-Biosphere Programme, UNESCO’s Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission, and the Scientific Committee on Oceanic Research concluded with “high confidence” that mollusks are “one of the groups most sensitive to ocean acidification.” Ocean acidity is increasing rapidly—more than 10 times faster than at any time in the past 55 million years, and possibly at a rate unprecedented in the past 300 million years. Red Knots weren’t around then; they don’t benefit from an evolutionary history of adapting to such rapid changes in ocean chemistry and the problems it brings to the shellfish that, in most places along the flyway, are their primary source of food.

Finish reading Deborah’s story on Audubon’s website.