Blast from the Past: Gulf Coast Edition

I recently came across this piece of mine from nearly two decades ago.  Interesting how the coast has changed since then!

It has been something of a tradition among my mom, sisters and me to spend a few days each year on vacation on the Alabama gulf coast.  Due to the severe hurricane damages it sustained over the past couple of years, however, we chose not to attempt this custom again for a while.  This year, though, we received feedback from some relatives of ours (who had actually camped in Gulf Shores State Park a few months after Katrina and the flooding that it brought with it) on the actual condition of the area, and because the news seemed pretty good, we decided last month to get a hotel room and spend some time enjoying --- if nothing else --- the gorgeous beaches.  I naturally also wanted to see to what extent the region’s ecosystems had been altered by the storms.  Fortunately, although there were places that still seemed barren and deserted, stripped somewhat of their distinctive character, the experience in general was very pleasant and indicative of nature’s resilience.

One of the first differences we noticed as we made our way around the Gulf Shores/Orange Beach area was the greatly reduced number of buildings and tourist attractions near the beach (in a way, not really a bad thing).  The absence of familiar landmarks was oddly unsettling, though; you’re so accustomed to seeing them as a tourist that you hardly notice them, and when they’re gone, you know that the landscape seems bereft of something, but exactly what it is you can’t tell immediately.  It takes a while for the feeling to sink in.  One thing we did easily notice, however, was that the sand dunes were practically gone --- they were in the process of being built up again, a job that nature will have to finish.  Park Service experts had heroically planted back the sea oats and other plants along many sections of shoreline, in an effort to accelerate the recovery.  In our frequent excursions to the beaches, I didn’t notice a major difference in the numbers of birds inhabiting the area.  Ruddy Turnstones and cryptically-colored Sanderlings skittered around at the edges of the waves, with the larger Willet occasionally showing up to utilize the deeper waters.  There were Least Terns by the dozens, diving in midair and slicing through the water to come back up with silvery fish in their beaks.  Actually, the fish were far from the only live creatures we saw in the waves --- this is where conditions seemed a little different from the other times we spent on the coast; coquinas (the little rainbow-hued clamlike mollusks) were everywhere, but there were also augers (sharp cone-shaped mollusks) and olives that were alive and burrowing into the wet sand.  My sister Deanna even discovered a hermit crab in a shell she picked up from the waves, thinking it was empty.  We all saw other sorts of crabs as we waded in the shallows, but thankfully no jellyfish.  I’m not sure whether these animals were evident simply because we were more observant this time, but I don’t remember seeing this many live seashore creatures during any of our other coastal trips, and I suspect that they may have had more opportunity (i.e., fewer human developments) to re-colonize.

Sanderlings

As far as seashore birds go, the gatherings of Brown Pelicans and Laughing Gulls, with small groups of Black Skimmers, Royal Terns, and the occasional Osprey didn’t appear diminished.  The shore may have taken a hard hit, but the swaths of coastal scrub farther inland were damaged more severely.  Most of the trees fared pretty well, I guess, with some inevitable wind and salt damage to the weaker ones such as the pines (the ancient Live Oaks were fine), but the change that made the whole area look like a dead zone was the understory of shrubs, a gray, water-damaged, skeleton-like mass stretching as far as we could see.  It might have just been our heightened discernment of changes here, but the numbers of forest birds seemed down.  On the other hand, a few woodpeckers were busy at work on some of the damaged wood, so the devastation clearly wasn’t detrimental to everyone.  A change that was upsetting to us was the state park, bereft of shade with the absence of most of the trees, and the areas between campsites open and bare of shrubbery.  We’ve spent several vacations in this park, and one of the things we most enjoyed about it was the pleasant shade and privacy afforded by the thick vegetation it once had, but in the long run these changes are probably not really a big deal.

We decided on our second day in at the coast to go on a chartered sailboat ride, something we’d never done before but figured would be enjoyable.  After making our reservations, we traveled to the boat dock, met our captain, and finally set off with a good-sized group of other like-minded people in the comfortable sailboat.  The weather was great, and the boat went smoothly with the motion of the waves out on the bay.  Pelicans soared in and landed on the water, gulls flew past on the breezes, and at several times during the expedition, pods of dolphins surfaced, some of the animals making brief leaps over the waves.  As I stood looking over the rail of the boat, watching the calmly rolling bay waters and listening to the calls of gulls in the distance, I thought that this was a most fitting way to stop and reflect on the recent changes on the gulf coast --- in the midst of this ecosystem that seems the most changeable of all, but in some ways is the most stable, as it constantly refreshes and renews itself.  In the same way, the natural environments of the gulf coast can and will refresh themselves in their own way and time, if we just allow them the opportunity.