| 22 February 2009
What was once the southern terminus of the Indian River Lagoon, one of the most diverse marine ecosystems on the planet, is now a sandbar, complete with footprints and shell beds. We can however, control habitat destruction, or at least minimize it.
Habitat destruction and increased fishing pressure are soaking up the resources !
If you asked me a week ago what I thought was the greatest threat to Florida’s fish population, I’d have unequivocally said “angler pressure,” an answer based on boat ramp parking spaces or the recent lack thereof.
I can tell you that in the area of the state where I live (Stuart), on any given windy day the lea side of the Indian River hosts a steady parade of anglers, most of which are wondering if the guy ahead of them is catching any fish. And given the gamut of hooked baits a fish has to run to make it up either coast on a sunny day, I’m surprised some restaurateur hasn’t come up with a cyber fishing and meal deal.
Were it not for a Kool-Aid gulping of conservation and the fact that poor angling skills usually result in lost fish, Florida could go the way of Japan, where the fish are so non-existent anglers routinely discuss how good the fishing is….everywhere else. But Florida is one of those states the by definition (flat and wet), plays host to more fish habitat than an armada of anglers can cover. So by default, the fish thrive, or at least that’s how I saw it.
Then I went fishing last week, during what the local paper advertised as the “Brightest moon of the year.” The pertinent point to the moon phase relates to the tides, with extreme low water bordering on “all you fatso’s need to get out and push the boat” levels. It was the first time in a couple of years that I’d seen some of the large areas near the St. Lucie Inlet go dry, and it was a rude awakening, and not just because I was the only fatso who had to get out and push.
Plenty of boaters were taking advantage of the dry expanse by pulling onto the sandbars and hanging out with their families. And therein was the epiphany--everybody was playing on sandbars that only a few years ago were grass beds. The sea grasses, like the politicians who previously set precedent for the water drainage from Lake Okeechobee to the St. Lucie River, were gone.
It’s debatable whether a tag team of hurricanes named Francis and Jean put their direct hit double whammy on the grass beds, or the constant flow of fetid water from Okeechobee did the trick, but the grass is gone, replaced by empty sand. And while that sand is great when the kids are running around barefoot, to anything juvenile and marine that exposed bottom makes them an easy appetizer for cruising predators.
Thanks Mike, we feel you!
Snook Foundation members and subscribers are welcome to catch the spirit of keeping fish around. Chaining ourselves to mangroves is Not Necessary. Like never before, our interests are being heard in the rooms where permits are let and decisions affecting the health of our nursery and juvenile habitat are made. Thousands of anglers can see the results of habitat destruction, and are stepping up.
Think about it: “If they were going to do it, it would have been done long before now. Something different by different someone’s is what's needed”. That's us! the Snook Foundation is your voice for habitat! Check it Out!
Snook Foundation members and subscribers are welcome to catch the spirit of keeping fish around. Chaining ourselves to mangroves is Not Necessary. Like never before, our interests are being heard in the rooms where permits are let and decisions affecting the health of our nursery and juvenile habitat are made. Thousands of anglers can see the results of habitat destruction, and are stepping up.
Think about it: “If they were going to do it, it would have been done long before now. Something different by different someone’s is what's needed”. That's us! the Snook Foundation is your voice for habitat! Check it Out!
And when the meals come easy, it isn’t long before all the meals are gone. Once that happens, the predators scatter like cockroaches when the light comes on.
As I gazed across the open expanse of dry sand, it was obvious that a major portion of the sea grasses were gone, with no sign that they actually existed. No early growth, no sparse patches, just wet quartz.
What was once the southern terminus of the Indian River Lagoon, one of the most diverse marine ecosystems on the planet, is now a sandbar, complete with footprints and shell beds. I’d estimate that 40 percent of the grasses that were there five years ago are now desert, with little or no growth on them and similar odds of coming back.
That made me think about the fish habitat around the state--about the beach renourishment projects that cover the patch reefs with sand, the walling of mangrove shorelines, the dumping of water and its associated runoff, the development of wetlands. Not a week goes by where some municipality in the state is fighting for its habitat. And over time, the numbers creep up like a too small pair of underwear.
An increasing population and decreasing habitat are two intangibles that will always be a threat to Florida’s natural resources. But fortunately one of them we can contain with a BIG wall, No Trespassing signs and a box full of stun guns (only kidding).
We can however, control habitat destruction, or at least minimize it. I've never been a tree hugger, but I'm quickly developing some mangrove love lest I have to tell my kids that there used to be fish and birds and all kinds of cool life in their local waters.
Habitat protection and restoration is an issue that as an adult, and as a member of the human race, I need to press, simply because I can. I’ve seen what five years can do to a coastline, and now I’m scared to think what it’ll look like over the next 20 or so. Sadly, I suspect we all have seen the best of times precede the worst of times.
