Tours Educate Public About Wetlands

  • Morgan Swamp. (Photo courtesy of Julie Grant.)

One hundred years ago, people were draining swamps and other wetlands as quickly as possible. In many places, farmers wanted the land to grow crops. But biologists and others have come to realize the value of wetlands as habitat for wildlife and as a filter to clean the water. Now, one group is opening up a swamp to the public so that more people understand why wetlands are important. Julie Grant reports:

Transcript

One hundred years ago people were draining swamps and other wetlands as quickly as possible. In many places, farmers wanted the land to grow crops. But biologists and others have come to realize the value of wetlands as habitat for wildlife and as a filter to clean the water. Now, one group is opening up a swamp to the public so that more people understand why wetlands are important. Julie Grant reports:


You really get the feeling you’re in rural America on these roads. The streets signs around here, if there are any, are often painted by hand. The land is flat as a pancake, and in many low-lying areas the ground is wet. But there used to be a lot more water.


More than half of the nation’s wetlands have been drained, much of that happened in the mid 1800s. These lowlands were no exception. Biological historians say the land around here was once a swampy forest. But people chopped down the trees, they drained swamps and marshes, and they started farming this river valley in Ohio.


Randy Edwards is spokesman for the Nature Conservancy. He says draining the wetlands back then changed the way the river flowed.


“We have made an effort to restore them and bring back the natural water flow to the area. We’ve had a lot of help from the beavers.”


That’s right, he said they’ve restored wetlands with the help of the beavers.


“I’m serious. They may not know it, but the beavers are an important partner of ours in the restoration of wetlands in Ohio.”


The Nature Conservancy has been buying and preserving wetlands in the lowlands of the Grand River Valley in northeast Ohio for more than twenty years. Now, it’s opening 1000 acres of this area, called Morgan Swamp, to the public.


It’s only a short walk from the new parking lot, through the forest, and onto a wood deck that overlooks the swamp, to see what all this beaver business is about.


“So from the overlook here, you can see what was at one point, a multi-tiered set of beaver dams. There’s the one that’s right in front of us, and you can see that the dam has been here a long time. There’s lots of vegetation growing on it.


If it weren’t for these beaver dams, Edwards says this wouldn’t be a life-giving pond and wetland area; it would just be a stream running through the woods. This past spring a flood burst through part of the dam. Edwards says the Nature Conservancy was worried the whole pond would drain.


“But instead, the beavers have been working at it little by little, and have blocked it up with small saplings and mud, whatever they could find to block up the whole. There’s still water running through there, but it’s not enough to drain the pond.”


And the beavers’ work benefits the entire area. A rare type of forest has come back to life. Hemlock conifers, with their flat, delicate needles grow here, and so do many rare species of wildflowers, such as the endangered painted trillium: a small white flower with a splash of red in the center.


Jim Bissell is the director of Conservation at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History. He says the swamp makes a home for spotted turtles, rare rattlesnakes, salamanders, and lots of birds. And he credits those busy beavers for creating the ponds at Morgan Swamp.


“Morgan Swamp, it was the biggest hemlock swamp in the state before it was drained, and then caught on fire, and the peats burned. But it started to recover when the beavers returned.”


Beavers disappeared because they were trapped for fur, and then their habitat was destroyed. Bissell says so much water had been drained and so many trees cut, that in the 1920s this area looked like a flat barren prairie, instead of a wetland forest.


But, people began to realize the lowlands really weren’t all that good for growing hay and other crops. Many just abandoned their farms. Within 20 years, the forests were regrowing and the beaver returned.


The Nature Conservancy normally doesn’t open its properties to the public because they’re too fragile, but Randy Edwards says the Conservancy made an exception with this swamp.


“We believe that the more you provide people with the opportunity to witness firsthand and experience firsthand the natural settings in Ohio, really especially the unusual natural settings, the more willing they’ll be to protect it.”


And instead of seeing swamps as something to be drained, Edwards hopes people will see wetlands as valuable habitat for all kinds of animals, and a necessary part of the environment that helps keep the water clean.


For the Environment Report, I’m Julie Grant.

Related Links

Tree Farmer Makes Season Merrier

  • Duke Wagatha drives down from northern Michigan each year to sell his Christmas trees. While in Ann Arbor, he and his crew live in this 1951 Vagabond trailer.

It’s that time of year again – parking lots across the country are filled with Christmas trees. Just about one out of every three people who celebrate Christmas buys a live tree. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Mark Brush spent some time with one tree grower in the height of tree selling season:

Transcript

It’s that time of year again – parking lots across the country are filled with Christmas trees. Just about one
out of every three people who celebrate Christmas buys a live tree. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s
Mark Brush spent some time with one tree grower in the height of tree selling season:


(sound of generator, saws, people chatting)


It’s a crisp afternoon at this Christmas tree lot in Ann Arbor, Michigan. That generator you hear is
powering the electric saws. They trim up the base of the tree so it’ll fit your tree stand. The guys’ hands
are blackened with sap and dirt from handling the hundreds of trees that came off of flat-bed trucks. They
take the bundled trees – open them up, and stick them onto stands. They’ve created a makeshift forest in
the middle of this strip mall parking lot. Customers wander through the forest searching for the perfect
tree.


Duke Wagatha runs the tree lot. He appears each year from north Michigan to sell his trees:


“We get here the weekend before Thanksgiving. Takes us probably about a week, or
five days to get set up, with the idea of opening the day after Thanksgiving. We like to let folks get one
holiday out of the way and then we start on the next.”


“Hello folks, how may I help you?…” (fade tree lot sound under)


He calls his business ‘Flat-Snoots Trees.’ You couldn’t tell from looking at his face now – but he
calls it ‘Flat-Snoots’ to make light of a broken nose he suffered in high school.


Duke seems to be a hard working free-spirit. His coveralls are all tarnished with pine needles and sap.
And when he moves, you hear ringing from the bells on his hat. He moves between the trees in his
parking lot forest telling his customers jokes and filling their heads with visions of Scotch pine, Fraser
firs, and Blue Spruce.


Margaret Jahnke has been buying trees from Duke for more than six years:


“He just makes it really personable – and there was one year it was really kind of warm and he had his
Hawaiian shirt on and his straw hat, and he was out here partyin’ away! And I’m like, ‘Whoa!’ It’s fun
to come, you know, just to run in, you know, to talk to him. And they’re really helpful!”


While they’re in Ann Arbor, Duke and his crew live in a 1950’s vintage trailer. The trailer’s paint is
faded, but Duke spruces it up for the holidays with wreaths and pine bows. And when you step inside, the
old lamps and rustic furniture make it seem as if you’ve stepped back in time.


(sound of trailer door opening)


“Whooo! It feels better in here doesn’t it?”


(sound of trailer door closing)


The trailer also doubles as his office. Customers pay for their trees in here and on occasion they’ll have a
complimentary nip of what Duke calls his “bad schnapps.” And the kids might be offered coupons for
free hot chocolate.


Duke is from Mesick, a small rural town in northern Michigan. Christmas tree farming is big business
in Michigan. The state is second only to Oregon in the number of acres that are in Christmas tree
production.


Duke, however, calls himself a small-time grower. He’s a carpenter by trade, but his work tends to dry up in the
long winter months:


“It’s not enough to make a living for me and my family year-round, uh, but it’s a good extra source of
income and uh, winters are tough up there, so if you make a little bit of extra money – winters are tough
and expensive – uh, living in the country, you know, like anybody, you got propane bills and all that, and
it’s a little colder up there, so to make a little bit of money going into winter is pretty nice.”


A lot of work went into growing the trees that have now arrived on his lot. Each summer workers plod
through the rows and rows of trees swinging razor sharp machetes. They trim each tree to give them that
classic, symmetrical, Christmas tree shape.


After about ten years, the trees are ready for harvest. They’re cut, they’re run through a baling machine,
and they’re loaded onto trucks and shipped down to the lots.


(sound of tree lot with sound of Duke)


Even though there’s a jovial atmosphere on the lot, there’s also a sense of urgency. After all, Duke only
has a few weeks to sell trees that in many cases have taken more than ten years to grow.


And while selling the trees is an important part of Duke’s income – he gets something else out of it. He
really likes people. And he enjoys making connections with them – whether it’s getting them to laugh, or
just simply helping them buy a tree:


“Sometimes you get some grumpy folks coming in, and it’s usually just because they’re overwhelmed
with shopping, it’s cold out, they didn’t wear their long underwear, or whatever, but we can usually get
them turned around, you know, we have a little fun with them. Like I say, if we have to bring them to the
trailer and have a shot of bad schnapps with ’em – hey, that’s just fine too.”


It’s closing time at the tree lot. The workers are headed for a warmer space. Right now, Duke’s trailer is
filled with his relatives and friends.


(sound of door opening)


“Come on in! This is Duke’s family. It’s warm in here, huh?”


(more rowdy banter)


Duke will continue to sell his trees right up until Christmas Eve. Then he’ll drive home to spend a few
days with his family before he comes back to tear the lot down:


“It’s kind of like the circus coming to town. You build up your tree lot, you almost build like, well I
wouldn’t say a village, but a little spot where there was nothing – just an asphault parking lot. And when you leave – there’s nothing
left – we sweep up and go – so it’s almost like a mirage. Were those guys really here?” (laughter)


And so, they spring to their trucks and drive out of sight, knowing they helped make the season
merry night after night.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Mark Brush.