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Stewards of the Magothy
No major bridge runs across it. Most commuters dodging traffic on Ritchie Highway between Baltimore and Annapolis don't see the creeks trickling nearby or think about the hidden river to the north where migrating waterfowl flock each winter. Sandwiched between the Patapsco and Severn rivers, flowing just above the Bay Bridge , the Magothy River does not hide in obscurity, however. From the earliest Woodland Indians to colonists, farmers, and watermen, this land and water have sustained many with its bounty. Today though, this boat-lover's paradise has over 70,000 people living in its 44 square mile watershed, and the river has changed. Pollutants have sent the Magothy into a decline over the past 4 decades. To save this Bay tributary, a hardy band of volunteers work doggedly, trying to restore its health. Troubles in the River Paul Spadaro, president of the 60-year old Magothy River Association, compares the changes in the river to a high school titration lab. “When you add acid, drop by drop, into a burette tube [of base and indicator] suddenly it will change color.” Development around the river has had that kind of negative impact, Spadaro says, slowly changing the river until it suddenly could no longer support its diverse aquatic life. Much of the Magothy's problems lie underground. Aging septic systems are leaking into the water, raising nutrient levels and polluting the river. Most, but not all, of the south shore is on public sewer; the north shore communities are on septic systems. “There are 300 septic systems in the Mill Creek watershed alone,” said Dr. Peter Bergstrom, a fisheries biologist with the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) Chesapeake Bay Office. “They remove [fecal coliform] bacteria, but are not designed to remove nitrogen.” Even in properly functioning septic systems, 10 pounds of nitrogen per person enter the ground water each year according to the Center for Watershed Protection in Ellicott City . Can we return to those days, when the rivers ran clear? Volunteers with the Magothy River Association are doing their part to make it happen. When excess nitrogen gets into our rivers and the Bay, it feeds algae, which can bloom and block light for grasses. To break down the dead algae, bacterial decomposers use vast quantities of the river's oxygen, making it unavailable to fish, crabs, and oysters. Besides septic system concerns, Bergstrom cites lack of storm water management as a problem for the river. “ Park Plaza was built before storm water management was required,” he says. “Kohl's parking lots all drain into the North Cypress Branch.” This runoff has been heated by the summer sun and is contaminated by pollutants making the water unsuitable for fish, which prefer cooler temperatures. Fresh water from these impervious surfaces lowers the salinity, making it worse for oyster reproduction. Counteracting some of these problems are trees. Woodlands help filter water, reduce runoff and flooding, and recharge the ground water; paved surfaces have the opposite effect. “Nature has a tendency to try to go back to a balance,” says Spadaro, noting that the trees have had a chance to grow and bring back some of that balance around the Magothy as most home construction was finished in the 80s. In 2000, 39 percentof the watershed remained forested. To help protect the natural resources, Spadaro cites the Critical Area Law of 1984, which limited certain types of construction within 1000 feet of mean high tide in tidal waters and adjacent tidal wetlands. The preservation of forests and wetlands in the Magothy Greenway, too, he deems a “gigantic boost.” The Magothy River Land Trust, a non-profit organization, seeks to protect ecologically sensitive land in the Magothy's watershed. In 2002, in conjunction with the Maryland Environmental Trust, the land trust acquired over 450 acres of forested land, including the Looper Property, a 370-acre piece located north of the river, above Blackhole Creek. These oak, holly, and pine woods in the Magothy Greenway are home to abundant wildlife including hawks and numerous song birds. Well-marked trails laid out as an Eagle Scout project allow peaceful walks studded with bluebirds. Located within this preserve and in the surrounding area are the Magothy bogs, home to unique plants including pitcher plants, orchids, and sundews. Forest preservation is one step in returning the Magothy to its healthy, vital past. Another is to keep track of the changes in the river. Keeping an Eye on the Water In Marianne Taylor's book, My River Speaks: The History and Lore of the Magothy , she recalls the words of Captain Gil Pumphrey of the Fairwinds Marina at the head of Deep Creek: “In those days from the'30s to the '60s, we caught fish all the time in droves. The water of the Magothy was blue-green and you could see turtles down deep.” Can we return to those days, when the rivers ran clear? Volunteers with the Magothy River Association are doing their part to make it happen. Last year alone, they spent over 4000 hours working on projects to improve and monitor the health of the river, supported by $23,650 in funding from the Chesapeake Bay Trust. Dr. Sally Hornor, an aquatic microbial ecologist and professor at Anne Arundel Community College , has spent the last 15 years collecting water at various sites on the river during the summer, testing for fecal bacteria. After a broken pipe dumped 3 million gallons of sewage in Mill Creek in December 2005, Hornor worked with Anne Arundel County in a one-year study comparing the water in the creek with neighboring Dividing Creek. Tests both upstream and below the spill led to unexpected results. “We couldn't believe the data,” said Hornor, who found the water to be worse upstream. “It was sobering to see how poor the water quality was above the spill. And I don't think these creeks are unusual.” How could the water quality be worse upstream than water that had 3 million gallons of sewage dumped into it? Hornor turned to the creeks' watersheds for answers, and found impervious surfaces, septic systems, and domestic animals. “If there are hundreds of houses and half have dogs, that's a lot of pet waste,” says Hornor. “A study by the Center for Watershed Protection in Ellicott City found that 67 percent of the bacteria in our streams come from pet waste.” Animal waste, aging septic systems, and runoff from driveways, roads, and parking lots sent enough bacteria into the creeks to surpass raw sewage. Besides enterococci bacteria found in waste, Hornor plans to study native Bay bacteria that are increasing with our warming waters, and could make us sick. “With all the algae in the water pumping out sugars plus the warm water, you have the perfect soup,” says Hornor. “I think we're going to see increasing bacteria problems in the Bay.” Searching for Clarity
Bergstrom and volunteers spend Saturday mornings from spring through the late fall continuing a 15-year old monitoring program touted as the longest and most comprehensive volunteer-based water quality monitoring program in the Chesapeake Bay watershed. Checking several different sites, in creeks and on the main stem, their water quality samples give us snapshots of current conditions. Bergstrom measures clarity, bottom dissolved oxygen, and the particles in the water, called “total suspended solids”—silt, waste, decaying plant and animal materials. The suspended material blocks light from the river, making it difficult for underwater plants to conduct photosynthesis, reducing their population and the amount of oxygen they supply to the river. Fish cannot see to feed and their gills may get clogged. Excess sediments can smother fish eggs and tiny larvae. The collected data shows 2004 as the best year in over a decade for bottom dissolved oxygen, clarity, and lowered total suspended solids. If 2004 had been a dry year, this might have been the answer. Drought years improve water clarity because runoff and its accompanying sediments are down. But 2004 was the second of two very wet years. By 2006, some of the improvements had diminished in the upper creeks. What happened in 2004? Living Model of Clarity Scientists often use models to predict future change. In 2004, a living model dropped into the creeks of the Magothy. Hurricane Isabel brought a 7 1/2 foot storm surge up the Bay and into Annapolis waters. Soon after, a small dark mussel never seen before in the Magothy began appearing on pilings in huge numbers. Early concerns that these were non-native zebra mussels were relieved by scientists in the Marine Invasions Research Lab at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center in Edgewater. The native dark false mussels the size of a fingernail grew rapidly throughout the creeks along the river. Hornor believes the outgoing surge from the hurricane brought the mussels down from Susquehanna Flats. Wet years 2003 and 2004 decreased the salinity of the Magothy, making conditions favorable for the mussel's growth. Studies in Cattail Creek run by Hornor and dive master and retired engineer Richard Carey found 30-50 mussels per square inch of piling in 2004. With the help of a dozen local residents, they counted the mussels on 213 piers and measured the pilings, calculating the creek's total population to be almost 380 million mussels. The mussels, capable of filtering all of the creek's water in two days, brought better clarity than Bergstrom had seen since he began water quality monitoring in 1991. Lowering a secchi disk to measure the creek's clarity, he could still see the disk's black and white pattern six feet down. His previous best had been half that distance. The mussels' filtering power had cleared the waters, and brought other changes as well. Slow Return of Aquatic Grasses
Carey has lived near the mouth of Cattail Creek, up where the river narrows to creek size itself, for 38 years. “I saw the grasses leave,” Carey says. “I remember back in the early '80s, there used to be lots of grasses in the creeks. We used to go up the river toward Riverdale and the grasses were so thick, you couldn't do anything. Today, you can go up under the [Magothy] bridge and have no problems with grasses.” But, the grasses (or SAV, submerged aquatic vegetation) have been returning. The Magothy River Association has been planting grasses, led for the past five years by Carl Treff who trains citizen scientists through the Grasses for the Masses program in conjunction with the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. Each year, 25 watershed residents complete the training and grow grasses in their homes, then plant them in the river in the spring. Bergstrom and his cadre of volunteers monitor the SAV. Kayak trips allow them to add their direct observations to the mapping done by aerial photography through the Virginia Institute of Marine Science (VIMS). Data are reported to VIMS, who compiles the data and publishes it on the web. After the major decline in the early 80s seen by Carey and noted in the data, increases have been encouraging. The number of hectares detected from aerial photography is up dramatically from 1993 to present, with a 78 percent increase from 2003 to 2004, holding steady in 2005. The increase in water clarity brought by the mussels was the most likely reason for the 2004 boom in SAV. The population explosion of dark false mussels declined after 2004, but the progress they brought to the river brings renewed hope. The answer may lie with another native filter feeder: the oyster. Returning the Oyster to the River Oyster beds, through the 1800s, used to break the surface at low tide on the Magothy. Bountiful crabs, oysters, and fish kept Magothy watermen in business. Though dozens of skipjacks used to ply these waters, by the '90s, oyster dredging was virtually over on the Magothy. Taylor recounts the sight of the last skipjack Rebecca T. Ruark as she sailed “out of Deep Creek on a bristling, windy day. She [was] a piece of living Magothy history.” In September 2001, after negotiations with watermen, the Department of Natural Resources closed oyster harvesting on the Magothy. And it will remain closed for at least another five years, says Spadaro. Negotiations weren't hard; there were almost no oysters left. In 2000, the Magothy River Association began a five-year plan to restore oysters to the river. Estuarine biologists, including Dr. Hornor, Dr. Steven Brown, Dr. Dorothy Leonard and Ms. Carol Auer, coordinated with Carey and Spadaro and the Department of Natural Resources to identify old oyster beds, rebuild former oyster bars and establish new bars. Updates and a second five-year plan are underway. Millions of oysters have been returned to the river, supplied by the Oyster River Partnership and grown in oyster gardens by local citizens. The Magothy River Association began encouraging and teaching oyster gardening to residents in 1989. Annually, up to 30 people have grown oysters from spat in cages suspended from their piers. The Chesapeake Bay Foundation, which now runs an extensive oyster gardening program, based their model on the Magothy's. Three oyster nurseries dot the Magothy community. The first one began in Downs Park in 1994. Visitors to the park in the summer and fall watch as the oysters get their weekly cleaning, learning more about the recovery efforts. The second nursery was established at Ulmstead community pier in 1998; the third at the Cape St. Clair community pier in 2002. Organized by Spadaro, many others, including local Boy Scouts, remain committed to this nursery project. “We got 114 buckets of oysters one year from oyster gardeners,” says Carey, who has run the Oyster Recovery Program for the past six years. One hundred and fourteen buckets sounds like a lot, but “that doesn't cover much territory.” In 2005, the Oyster Recovery Program gave the Magothy 5 million oysters from a hatchery at Horn Point. Using ORP's boat, they planted half at Chest Neck Point, and the other half by Ulmstead Point, each batch covering about 1e acre. As they grow, these oysters, renowned filters of algae and nutrients like nitrogen and phosphorus, begin the process of cleaning the river. A single oyster can filter 5 liters of water per hour. “We have so much hope with the oysters,” says Hornor. “Nitrogen feeds algae, algae feeds oysters. So we get around the problem of excess nitrogen by growing oysters.” Even if all sources of nitrogen into the ground water were stopped today, it would still take 20 years for all the nitrogen already present to be flushed out. But more oysters are needed in the Magothy. By extrapolating from the dark false mussel data they collected in 2004, Carey concluded that 30 acres of oysters would be needed to bring the clarity of earlier decades back to the river. “When we have 60-70 million oysters,” says Carey, “we might see a change.” Training Divers Since 1998, Dick Carey has run two trainings per year for licensed SCUBA divers, teaching them to plant and monitor the oysters. Many of these volunteers come from Virginia and Silver Spring . “Those [divers] that live here say they're smarter than that,” says Carey. “They say they know you can't see down there.” But, continues Carey, visibility isn't that bad. There are good periods mixed with bad. Clarity, he says, is often related to weather. Since there isn't a big tidal exchange on the river, westerly winds push the water out and easterlies push the water in. The water that comes in is sometimes worse than what is there, sometimes better. Divers do their scientific training in a pool, usually at Anne Arundel Community College or the Naval Academy . Exercises mimic the work they will do the river: following a transect line, collecting and measuring oysters in a square quadrant, rigging and lifting heavy lift bags resembling reef balls, and, Carey's favorite, getting untangled. For the entanglement exercise, divers' masks are darkened with paper towels. They must follow a transect line along the bottom of the pool which leads through a web of old tennis nets, tied together and stretched across the width of the pool. Blindly feeling their way along the net, they must find the x-shaped hole to get through. If their tanks get entangled, they have to get loose, find their way to the surface, and then go back. “I call it fun and games,” says Carey. Workshops and river dives bring volunteers from NOAA , the Coast Guard and the Naval Academy . The Lake Shore Fire Department provides a diving platform vessel for work on the Magothy. Besides monitoring the oyster beds, these scientific divers also help extend them. Reef Balls: A Place for Fish and Fishermen to Gather Loss of the oyster beds has meant loss of fish habitat. The densely layered craggy shells formed long oyster reefs where multitudes of colonial animals, including sponges, worms and barnacles, lived with a variety of crabs and other mollusks. Tiny fishes—gobies, blennies, and skilletfish—sought sanctuary here. These teeming mounds filled with aquatic wildlife attracted larger fish and the oyster bar community thrived. To help recreate the lost oyster beds, a number of organizations have teamed up to place large open-framework concrete reef balls into the Magothy to bring back the conditions that attract fish. Maryland Environmental Services, along with Maryland Department of Natural Resources, worked together with the Magothy River Association in 2004 to place 120 reef balls in the river. Divers from NOAA and the Naval Academy , along with volunteers from Anne Arundel Community College and the Magothy community, helped pour and plant these balls. Clustered together to enhance their effectiveness, some near existing oyster beds, the 400-pound reef balls attract vegetation and filter feeders, and hopefully—fish. The Department of Natural Resources, with the help of the Pasadena Fishing Club, monitors the fishermen's success in these areas. Though results are still coming in, Carey has seen some progress. “Last fall, I couldn't even dive on one reef,” says Carey. “There were too many fishermen around.” Getting the Word Out Several recent projects by the Magothy River Association seek to bring more converts to the Magothy cause:
Individuals can make a difference. “We have over 600 members in the Magothy River Association,” says Bergstrom. “Homeowners in the watershed should go to the MRA Webite [www.magothyriver.org] and look at all the ways they can get involved.” From practicing better stewardship in their own yards to volunteering in watershed projects, each person's contribution can help reverse the decline and bring the Magothy back. Dotty Holcomb Doherty is a freelance writer living in Annapolis . She wrote the feature “ Annapolis Goes Green” in our April issue. Oyster beds, through the 1800s, used to break the surface at low tide on the Magothy. Bountiful crabs, oysters, and fish kept Magothy watermen in business.
Island Controversy
Controversy surrounding two small islands has brought the Magothy into the news over the past few years. In 2002, commercial homebuilder Daryl Wagner illegally built a house, lighthouse, pool, patio, gazebos and sidewalks on Little Island, retroactively seeking permits in 2004. The Board of Appeals spent eight months deliberating the case in 2006, and in a 5-2 vote, decided he could keep the house and lighthouse, but the other structures had to be removed. Many who work to protect the Bay expressed concern over the number of violations broken here, especially the Critical Area Law established in 1984, requiring a 100 foot buffer between the water and any construction. On Little Island, trees and the natural shoreline were removed in front of the house, leaving a beach and rock sea wall. A similar issue also has arisen on the nearby Dobbins Island . Dobbins Island , privately owned for the past century, historically has been a popular stop over for boaters. On any given summer day, 50-100 people would use the beach and 200 boats would moor in the anchorage between Dobbins and Little Island. Newspapers used to be delivered there, parties would flourish—it was gunk-holing at its best. When David Clinkner purchased the island in 2004, he did not feel the public had to leave the anchorage, but wanted some control over his property. He erected a controversial fence in 2006 to limit access to the island, and has been planning to build a house there, though permits have so far been denied. Clinkner has entertained the idea of selling the island, and the Magothy River Association would like to see it become a public space. “ Dobbins Island has been vacant all these years because it's impossible to build a house on the steep slopes, which is against the Critical Area Law” says Spadaro. “Clinkner hopes to make it buildable. I would like to see it become public open space. Dobbins is one of the few islands left as God intended it—without rip-rapped shorelines.” Over 4000 hours of volunteer time by Magothy River members and pro bono lawyer time have gone into these two cases over the last two years. Legal costs enforcing the Critical Area Law ran to $20,000.
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