THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, July 22, 1996 TAG: 9607220035
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY PAUL CLANCY
STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: VIRGINIA BEACH LENGTH: 151 lines
The water in Back Bay used to be so clear you could see the sandy bottom and watch fish approach your lure. You could don a face mask and swim through wide tunnels in the submerged grass and be surrounded by fish. You could look back at the wake made by your boat and marvel at how the water sparkled.
Now, skipping across the bay in Jim Clark's fishing boat, it's impossible to see anything below the murky, dark surface. Back Bay is a far cry from its days as a hunting and fishing paradise for some - an undiscovered gem to much of the rest of the world.
``It's been a devastating experience for a lot of people who grew up down here,'' says Clark, a Virginia Beach firefighter and part-time fishing guide.
Change is coming.
Grasses are back in several areas. Migratory birds, including eagles and osprey, are finding food for their fledglings. And human fishermen see a slight improvement.
But is Back Bay back?
After more than 10 years of putting the brakes on development, shutting down pollution sources and improving farming practices, can those who have fought for this once-bountiful bay at Virginia's southeast corner say it's taken a turn for the better?
Clark spots a friend, Pungo Fish House owner Robert Whitehurst, and pulls up beside his boat. Whitehurst's chocolate lab, Barney, wastes no time in jumping into Clark's boat.
Whitehurst, who now goes elsewhere for most of his fish, acknowledges there's been some change. But he adds, ``It goes in cycles.''
Cycles.
That's about as far as many people are willing to go in assessing the recent resurgence of the vast, 104-square-mile aquatic ecosystem.
Cycles brought on by great storms that flushed the bay and restarted its biological clock. Cycles triggered by seawater that reordered its life forms from freshwater to brackish. Natural events beyond the control of those who have loved the bay.
But there's more to what's happened to the bay than nature. An exhaustive review of studies by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service makes it clear that more than a hundred years of abuse by humans triggered a vicious cycle that almost killed the bay.
Nature may be trying to make another comeback, but will continued pressure from too many people stop nature in its tracks?
Clark guns his boat across the bay to a favorite fishing site near the bullrushes on the east side. ``Sure there are cycles, but it's different now,'' he says. ``When we used to have an upcycle, everything was in place; Mother Nature could help herself. Now it's harder for her to come back on her own.''
Still, there's room for optimism.
In some places, fishing is on the rise, even to the point where people are using nets.
``The fishing has been tremendously good this year,'' says Robert Smid, owner of the Country Store near the lower bay. Smallmouth bass up to 7 pounds are being caught, he reports. ``That's real close to citation size.''
In the spring and fall, migrating waterfowl are stopping off in great multitudes to munch on vegetation and regain strength for the next leg of their trip.
A pair of nesting bald eagles has produced its third set of fledglings and they in turn are taking up residence.
And, leading the parade of all the changes, submerged grasses are spreading fast, providing food and shelter, stifling waves and clearing up the water.
``All these things, taken collectively, point to very healthy things happening in the bay,'' says John Stasko, manager of the Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge.
``Last winter, from the windows of our office, for the very first time we were able to see geese and ducks of all varieties and types.''
A decade ago, the cycle turned sharply down.
Pristine forests were cleared for farms, residential developments and shopping centers. Waste from hog farms went directly into receiving streams. Chemicals from farms and suburban lawns ignited algal blooms. Heavy metals and petroleum compounds from driveways and parking lots added to the chemical stew. Dredging, failed septic sytems and ineffective stormwater collection systems compounded the problems.
Little by little, as sunlight failed to penetrate the turbid water, the grasses died off, leaving the the bay defenseless.
Mitchell Norman of the Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries, says this allowed southerly winds to push salty water from Currituck Sound into the bay. And because freshwater fish such as largemouth bass can't successfully spawn in brackish water, in the mid 1980s their population basically crashed.
The bay itself seemed to crash. What had been a hugely productive habitat for fish and wildlife was, 10 years ago, virtually lifeless. A barren lagoon, some called it.
Waves ruled the bay, eroding islands, stirring up sediment, preventing new grass growth. Some bay watchers fear the cycle could be permanent.
Maybe not, others say.
``The reappearance of grasses bodes well for the bay,'' says Walter Priest, a wetlands ecologist at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science. ``It's a signal that water quality is improving, that turbidity is being reduced.
There are 18,000 acres of cropland in the Back Bay region, most of the land in corn, wheat and soybeans. Every acre takes from a pound to a pound and a quarter of nitrogen-rich fertilizer which, in heavy rain, rushes into the bay.
Flatland is flood land and because most crops can't stand more than 24 hours of flooding, farmers have tried to move it as fast as possible into receiving streams.
Louis Cullipher, who runs the Virginia Beach Department of Agriculture and farms in the Back Bay area with his son, says farmers now know it's better to hold the water in sediment basins to give contaminants time to deactivate.
For those who love the bay, one of the exciting trends of the past few years is the sudden arrival of migrating waterfowl and songbirds in the fall and winter.
In January, Back Bay Refuge biologist John Gallegos flew over the bay in a plane. ``I saw thousands of birds sitting out in the bay. Snow geese, widgeons, coots, gadwalls. Every one was sitting on the grass beds,'' he says.
Last year there were 3,000 coots, on the bay, compared to none in years past. A rare roseate spoonbill, the first ever recorded in Virginia, brought birders from hundreds of miles away to catch a glimpse.
Providing habitat for those flying hordes is one of the main jobs of the refuge, now sprawling over 7,700 acres mostly along the eastern side of the bay.
To replace lost habitat, the refuge has impounded nearly 900 acres, planting, disking and replanting seed plants just for the benefit of visiting wildlife. ``We look at every acre as critical habitat,'' says Gallegos, on a tour of the impoundments. ``We manage it to the max.''
Much still needs to be done, authorities say.
``I think it's going to be a slow recovery,'' says Barbara M. Henley, who lives on a farm near Pungo and represents the area on the Virginia Beach City Council.
The city has drastically reduced development in the Back Bay and North Landing watersheds. It has encouraged better farming practices and, under a new program, is now preparing to buy development easements from farmers to keep them from selling to developers, Henley points out.
She adds, ``We just have to make sure the City Council is committed to these policies and will follow through with them.''
The cause of the bay's problems - as well as its possible salvation - rests with Virginia Beach.
Steve Vinson, a pediatrician who has become executive director of the Back Bay Restoration Foundation, says, ``What happens in the watershed depends on the people who live here. It's Virginia Beach's bay. We can't point at power plants in the Midwest and say, `You did it to us.' This is our baby.''
Says Walter Priest: ``It took a long time for Back Bay to get the way it is and it will take a long time to get it back. There are no short-term fixes.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photographs by David Liebman, from top: walking stick,
snow geese, mink (staff refuge photograph), slimy salamander.
MORT FRYMAN
The Virginian-Pilot
Biologist John Gallegos shows some of the grasses that are returning
to the Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge. The grasses are all that
stand between the freshwater bay and salty water from Currituck
Sound.
MORT FRYMAN
The Virginian-Pilot by CNB