Salt Marsh

Up at 6:00 am to drive to south Houston to meet the exec director of Natural Legacy, a ecology program that I do work for, to meet her highschool students to go to Galveston Bay to plant in the coastal marshes. It's been threatening rain the last few days and was supposed to pour today, but I didn't care. The last of my big responsibilities were over for the month and I wanted to just get outside somewhere were all that I was required to do was to dig a hole and put a plant in it. We got to the site and registered then took a brief van ride to a boat landing then across a small bay that had already been half planted last year. These little islands of plants sprung above the water. Fish, crabs and shrimp lay their eggs there because of the protection from predators. We stepped out of the boat into knee high cool Gulf waters. Large plastic tubs lay in the center of each island. The islands had been made by dredging the surrounding waters. We were supposed to plant the Core Grass plants around the perimeter. The grass smelled like rotten eggs because of the high levels of hydrogen sulfate in the ground from which they were grown. The soil in that area underwent anaerobic decay rather than the aerobic that normally occurs on land. We took turns with the shovels, prying back the sandy soil below the water and placing the grass within. Each time the plant hit the soil, it seemed as though they grasped out to each other, the plant sinking in the soild and the soil reaching up towards it like lovers reunited.

As we planted, more and more people arrived by boat. Soon the shallow bay was filled with middle school students, biologists, conservationists and directors. The directors were, of course, barking orders and pointing fingers here and there.

On one of the shallower islands in a dry spot, the skimmers had already started nesting. They're black birds with white outlined wings and thin, orange bills. They detach their lower mandible as they fly above the water skimming the tops. They squacked at us as we invaded their territory. Two eggs lay in the middle of the small island. On another island, a stranded jellyfish about the size of an apple lay pulsating on the shore attempting to return to the water. It's ochre veins throbbed attempting to push it's way through the air across the sands. Debbie picked it up with a shovel and placed it back in the water. In the distance, we could see the bands of dark grey clouds. Near lunch time, the boat guy arrived announcing that everyone would need to leave soon because the storm was about thirty mintues away. Instead of leaving on the boat, we walked across the marsh onto the access road and hopped into the van.

When we returned to the park, there were hotdogs, chips and sodas for everyone. I don't care for hotdogs much but I was so hungry that I chowed down on two of them. After a few mintues of the festive celebration of the work day, a park ranger announced over a bullhorn to everyone that the storm was almost here and people who parked in the field needed to move because otherwise they might be trapped there when the rain hit. I volunteered to move the van. By the time I drove to the cement road about 100 feet away, the wind was blowing so hard that I could barely open the door. I put on my rain jacket and started running back to the tent. By this time, the rain was falling in sheets. It blew off my cap. I ran quicker. Earlier in the week, I'd slighly pulled a muscle in my calf while jogging. As I ran, I felt a little snap down there, then suddenly, I wasn't running any longer and felt a searing pain in my leg. Dang, I'd really pulled it now. I walked back to the tent and would have been soaked if not for my trusty jacket. We waited underneath the big tent watching as the organizers attempted to take the covering off the smaller tents. One had already blown away. The rain was closer to horizontal than vertical as the wind whipped it around. The large tent which we were under began to creak. It had already come off of it's foundation in two places. One of the organizers announced, "Everyone, get your t-shirts and return to your vehicles. We're afraid for everyone's safety in the tents." They ran to the van and I hobbled along behind them. I was drenched as we sat in the van waiting for rain to let up. Debbie's mother had left a message on her cell phone saying that storms were headed for that direction and that she should get out of the water immediately. Debbie laughed because the message had been left hours ago while we were right in the middle of the marsh.

When the rain let up slightly, we drove home without incident. I limped back to my apartment, drenched and satisfied.


- posted by Brian Herod @ 4:26 PM