Friday, February 28, 2025

Alligators!

Many people who learn of my penchant for kayaking in southern swamps ask “what about alligators?” I make no effort to get nose-to-nose with alligators, but I get a thrill out of seeing them. I don’t bother them, and they don’t bother me. No alligator has ever acted aggressively toward me. If they see me coming, as I get closer they will generally submerge if they are in the water or slide into the water if they are on the bank. If I surprise one, they will thrash into the water in a noisy, splashy hurry, but though they’ve startled me, they’ve never attempted to attack or intimidate me or my boat.  

The Gulf Coast in general, and Louisiana and Florida in particular, are the gator capitals of the USA. As cold-blooded reptiles they appreciate the near-tropical warmth, and the American alligator Alligator mississippiensis grows faster and larger, on average, than further north. North Carolina is the northern limit of the alligator along the Atlantic coast, though as the climate warms, they may be edging into Virginia in the Great Dismal Swamp area. 


Pixabay.com

                                                    Photo by Dave Boardman via Pixabay.com


Alligators are denizens of swamps, marshes, slow-moving coastal plain streams, and lakes. As waterfront land is devoured by development, and wetlands historically altered by dredging, filling, and artificial drainage, gator habitat has dwindled. However, human modifications of the environment have not always been detrimental.

 

In South Carolina, prime habitat was created by wetland alteration for rice cultivation, which began in Charleston around 1680. Ditch and dike construction modified natural drainage, resulting in extensive changes in wetland plant communities. Abandoned, diked rice fields began to deteriorate after the rice industry collapsed in the early 1900s, but some of the water control structures were repaired and maintained by hunters for waterfowl hunting. According to the S.C. Division of Natural Resources these impoundments host the highest alligator population densities in the state. 

 

Though far more active in warmer times, S.C. alligators may be active year-round. June is the peak time for nest construction and egg laying in the Carolinas. Nests are generally on higher ground (a relative term indeed in marshes and swamps) within about 5 m (16 ft) of the water. According to the SCDNR, in the ACE (Ashepoo, Combahee, and Edisto) basin between Charleston and Beaufort, SC nest material is typically big cordgrass (Spartina cynosuroides), which is generally consistent with what I have seen in the field, at least where big cordgrass is present. Nests are about 1.5-1.8 m (5 or 6 ft) across and about 0.5 m (20 in) tall.  The female digs a conical chamber in the center of the nest mound and lays 40-45 eggs, then adds several layers of mud and vegetation atop the egg chamber. The eggs are kept at a constant temperature by heat produced by decomposition of the nesting material. Sex of alligators is determined by nest temperatures during the middle third of embryo development, with females born when temperatures are less than 31.5o C (89o F). Only males hatch when temperatures are between 32.5 and 33o C (90.5-91.4o F), with mixed sex ratios in between. Fewer males are produced as temperatures approach 35o C (95o F), a temperature beyond which only females are produced. Incubation time is typically about 63-65 days but can be as long as 77 days. Hatching success averages about 70% in South Carolina. Newly hatched gators average about 24 cm (10 in) long and weigh 45-55 g (1.5-2.0 ounces). Juvenile nest-mate alligators remain together in a group called a pod or creche for up to three years (1).


 



Gator in the Waccamaw River, SC


As with humans, alligator food habits vary with age and size. Hatchlings supplement their yolk reserve with insects, crustaceans, snails, and small fish. Grownups feed on aquatic fauna and animals that venture to the water’s edge. In estuaries, they’ll often eat blue crabs, and occasionally on dead meat (carrion). At maturity, gators are apex carnivores with no natural predators (unless you count humans).  They’ll eat deer, raccoons, wading birds, semi-aquatic mammals such as beaver and nutria, and occasionally snakes and turtles. The latter apparently know when a gator is not hungry enough to crunch them, as I’ve seen turtles sunning peacefully next to alligators on the same log. 

 

Alligators do not seek to eat humans—we’re too big. Alligator attacks on humans, while rare, can occur. Gators are shy and would rather avoid human contact. But they may become aggressive if they feel threatened, if they are provoked, or if they are protecting their nests or young. Most attacks happen when humans enter alligator habitats, such as swamps, marshes, or rivers; or when alligators occupy human-created habitats such as the ever-proliferating stormwater detention and golf course ponds of the Carolinas. 


In the Carolinas alligator-infested waters occasionally freeze, and temperatures near or below freezing can be fatal. However, by staying in their dens they can survive. A study in Lake Ellis Simon near Havelock, NC in the early 1980s showed another adaptive behavior when the lake froze. Gators were observed mostly submerged, but with their snouts just above the water—in one case with the tip of the snout surrounded by, and possibly locked into, the ice. North of N.C. the cold weather prevents reproduction by restricting breeding, nesting, and hatching, but there are cases of transported alligators in more northerly locations that survived for several winters (2).

 

By the way, the oft-told tale of alligators living in the sewers of New York city is a myth. Transported alligators have been seen and caught in the city, and small dead ones have been found in the sewers, likely former pets that outlived or outgrew their welcome. But the idea that the NYC sewers host reproducing populations of large alligators is a great story, but just that—a story (3). 

 

My impression in North Carolina waters I have frequented since the late 1970s, is that alligators are far more frequent than in the 1980s and 1990s. Back in the day I very rarely ever saw one; now I see them frequently. Other paddlers, fishermen, scientists, etc. who frequent the swamps that I’ve talked to generally have the same impression. But data are scarce. If you search online for how many alligators are in N.C., several sources will tell you that there are about 1000, usually with no indication of where that number comes from (though in one case it is attributed to the state Department of Forestry and Natural Resources, a non-existent agency). That number is too low, I am confident, though it may have been applicable decades ago, when populations were still recovering. I’ve seen about 50 in my current home county alone (Craven County), and there bound to be at least a dozen I didn’t see for every gator that I laid eyes on. That gets us to 600 right there, not counting swamps in Craven County I haven’t visited yet, and at least 24 other N.C. counties where the animals are known to occur.  

 

In 2012-2013 a group from N.C. State University surveyed alligators in 25 coastal counties where gators were previously known to exist. They used multiple detection methods and some sophisticated statistics to predict alligator occupancy based on habitats and environmental variables (see figure below). The distribution was similar to that found in the only previous survey 30 years early. They did note that “there is some indication the population may have increased in certain areas” (4). 

 



In the early to mid-20th century alligator populations nationally declined precipitously due to hunting for food, leather, and sport. They received various levels of legal protection from the early 1960s and were protected under the 1973 federal Endangered Species Act. Populations increased, and the alligator was delisted (from endangered to threatened) in 1987, and populations in the Carolinas seem to have increased since then to the point that limited permit-based hunting is allowed in the Carolinas. 

 

Though some unregulated hunting still occurs, by far the major threats to Alligator mississippiensis in the Carolinas are wetland habitat disruption and destruction, and coastal development that not only destroys and degrades habitat, but brings humans and alligators into more frequent contact—hunting and trapping of so-called “nuisance” alligators is permitted. 


Alligators are ecosystem engineers as they modify habitats via nest construction and excavation of dens, holes, and tunnels that, in addition to benefitting the gators, also provides benefits for other critters. A study in Georgetown County, SC, using game cameras identified 81 different species at alligator nests from 2016-2021; a variety of birds, mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and invertebrates. They used the nests for foraging and feeding, traveling, and other purposes, including, in the words of the study, loafing (5).


Alligator resting, appropriately enough, in a bed of alligator weed on a Waccamaw River backwater. 

Sea-level and alligators

 

Ongoing sea-level rise will increase the salinity in some alligator habitats. Alligators are primarily freshwater animals, but they can live in some low-salinity brackish areas and may be common in environments that are usually fresh but experience occasional low-salinity saltwater intrusion. They can tolerate saltier waters from a few hours (or maybe days), but do not live in marine or high-salinity estuarine environments. They are occasionally seen on ocean beaches, but this is rare enough that it is always a big deal. As a freshwater body or river reach gets saltier as sea-level rises, it would presumably come less suitable or unsuitable for alligators. As mobile creatures, however, they can readily migrate if suitable habitats are available. And therein lies the main issue.

 

As sea-level rises various swamp and marsh habitats may migrate up onto the adjacent uplands or upriver, though the extent to which this occurs depends on the slopes the landforms and ecosystems must climb. The geomorphological, hydrological, and ecological responses are more complex than a simple translation upward and inland, but there is not necessarily a net wetland habitat loss if there is room to migrate (6)

 

The key point is “if there is room to migrate.” If the adjacent land use is a housing development, golf course, or farm—as it often is—a transition to wetland will often not be allowed. Drainage, infilling, landscaping, vegetation management, and other tactics are often using to prevent or slow sea-level driven encroachment. If the wetland-upland boundary is a bulkhead, seawall, or other hard structure there is an unsurmountable barrier to migration. Even if increased wetness and vegetation change as sea-level rises are tolerated by the human overlords, alligators may not be. 

 

Within a given limited area, SLR may reduce alligator habitat due to erosion and drowning. One study examined these effects for alligators and other threatened or endangered species at the Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge, S.C. (7). The study found that while other species are at greater risk than alligators, erosion can erase habitat. Another study examined the present and future possibility for alligators to live on the North Carolina Outer Banks barrier islands. The gator’s short-term ability to tolerate saltwater enables them to get to the islands. They found the island habitat to be suboptimal, but the sites are at the extreme northern limit of the alligator’s range. Storms (tropical and extratropical cyclones or nor’easters) are a limiting factor here likely to be made more so by climate change and SLR, as well as—of course—development by humans (8).  

 

Along most of the rivers of the Carolina coasts, the leading edge of SLR effects are in swampy bottomlands well inland of the ocean coast where the floodplains and wetlands provide a practical buffer from adjacent development. As SLR effects propagate upstream and transform habitats—my work suggests that this is occurring at a typical rate of several hundred meters per year—it will be interesting to see whether alligator populations increase (9). 



Sea-level rise projections produced in 2022 by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration for several scenarios for Myrtle Beach, SC and Beaufort, NC. 

Climate change and alligators

 

Alligators and other crocodilians are quintessential tropical and subtropical humid-region species. They simply don’t establish where it is too cold or dry. The distribution of crocodilian fossils is considered a reliable indicator of past warm and humid climates by paleontologists, based on the biogeography of modern crocodilians (10). 

 

In general, it seems that warmer climates would allow alligators to expand their range if suitable habitats are available, and a 2013 article in Slate Magazine suggested that alligators have expanded their range into Virginia (11). If climate change allows more intense winter cold spells, however, this could limit expansion or cause increased alligator mortality. This is less intuitive than general warming allowing range expansion, but consider that the Arctic is warming faster than the rest of the planet (a phenomenon called Arctic amplification). This warming reduces temperature differences relative to northern hemisphere mid-latitudes. This in turn can cause the polar jet stream in the troposphere to become wavier and less stable. The stratospheric polar vortex, a band of cold air winds that circle the Arctic, can be weakened by a more irregular jet stream. A strong vortex keeps the coldest air locked up in the Arctic, but a weaker polar vortex is prone to instability and southward shifts. These shifts--polar outbreaks--can bring Arctic air to the midlatitudes, including the Carolinas, creating extremely cold weather, even as Earth warms overall (13).

 

Climate change will not turn the Carolina coastal plains into a prairie or a desert, but there is a possibility of more frequent and severe droughts. Climate models for the Carolina coastal plain under various scenarios show increasing temperatures, and various trends in precipitation—but mostly increases. However, the amount of water in soil to support plants, or running off to feed rivers and swamps is a function not only of precipitation, but also evaporation and transpiration (water used by plants). These show, in general, soil moisture storage and runoff declining, and the evaporation deficit increasing. The latter reflects the gap between potential evaporation and transpiration (essentially, the environmental “demand” for water, or how much would be evaporated and used by plants if supplies are not limited) and actual evapotranspiration. Runoff and soil moisture decreases, and evaporation deficit increases, cannot be good for gators. But whether the changes are enough to significantly influence their range and distribution is uncertain. 


Drought map for July 2024. Climate change is likely to bring more frequent and severe droughts to the Carolinas.

NOTES:

 

(1) Information from S.C. Department of Natural Resources, https://www.dnr.sc.gov/marine/mrri/acechar/speciesgallery/Reptiles/AmericanAlligator/index.html.

 

(2) Hagen, J.M., Smithson, P.C., Doerr, P.D. 1983. Behavioral response of the American alligator to freezing weather. Journal of Herpetology 17, 402-404.

 

(3) “The Truth About Alligators in the Sewers of New York.” Cory Kilgannon, New York Times, 26 Feb. 2020.

(4) Gardner, B., Garner, L.A., Cobb, D.T., Moorman, C.E. 2016. Factors affecting occupancy and abundance of American alligators at the northern extent of their range. Journal of Herpetology 50, 541-547. The earlier survey comes from a 1983 M.S. thesis from N.C. State University by T.G. O’Brien, later published as O’Brien, T. G., Doerr, P.D. 1986. Night count surveys for alligators in coastal counties of North Carolina. Journal of Herpetology 20, 444– 448. 

(5) Rainwater, T.R., Singh, R., Tuten, C.A., et al. 2024. Fauna associated with American alligator (Alligator mississippiensis) nests in coastal South Carolina, USA. Animals 14, 620. 

 

(6) This is something I have worked on over the years. For example: Phillips, J.D. 1989. Erosion and planform irregularity of an estuarine shoreline. Zeitschrift fur Geomorphologie Suppl. 73: 59-71; Phillips, J.D. 2011. Predicting modes of spatial change from state-and-transition models. Ecological Modelling 222: 475-484; Phillips, J.D., 2018. Coastal wetlands, sea-level, and the dimensions of geomorphic resilience. Geomorphology 305: 173-184; Phillips, J.D., 2018. Environmental gradients and complexity in coastal landscape response to sea level rise. Catena 169: 107-118; Phillips, J.D. 2023. Landscape change and climate attribution, with an example from estuarine marshes. Geomorphology 430: 108666; Phillips, J.D. 2024. Sequential changes in coastal plain rivers affected by rising sea-level. Hydrology 11, 124.

(7) Daniels, R.C., White, T.W., Chapman, K.K. 1993. Sea-level rise: Destruction of threatened and endangered species habitat in South Carolina. Environmental Management 17, 373-385. While the basic points of this article are still highly relevant—when habitats are lost to erosion, species suffer, and that is happening in S.C.—it would be interesting to revisit this as sea-level rise and its impacts have accelerated, and continue to do so, since the article was published. 

 

(8) Parlin, A., Dinkelacker, S., McCall, A. 2015. Do habitat characteristics influence American alligator occupancy of barrier islands in North Carolina? Southeastern Naturalist 14, 33-40. The study emphasized short-term occupation and visitation by mainland alligators as opposed to establishment of semi-permanent breeding populations. 

 

(9) Phillips, J.D. 2024. Sequential changes in coastal plain rivers affected by rising sea-level. Hydrology 11, 124.

(10) For example, see Markwick, P.J. 1998. Fossil crocodilians as indicators of late Cretaceous and Cenozoic climates: Implications for using paleontological data in reconstructing palaeoclimate. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology 137, 205-271.

 

(11) “Alligators in your backyard.” Jackson Landers, Slate Magazine, 19 February 2013. The Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries confirms sightings in the southeastern part of the state, especially in the Great Dismal Swamp area along the North Carolina border. However, the department does not consider the species native to Virginia and attributes the sightings to escaped or released captive alligators. 

 

(12) Zhang, J., Tian, W., Chipperfield, M.P., et al. 2016. Persistent shift of the Arctic polar vortex towards the Eurasian continent in recent decades. Nature Climate Change 6, 1094-1099; Hamouda, M.E., Portal, A., Pasquero, C. 2024. Polar vortex disruptions by high latitude ocean warming. Geophysical Research Letters 51, e2023GL107567.






Thursday, February 27, 2025

Ghost Trees


 Ghost forest, Straits Island, North Carolina

Researchers in Louisiana first identified and named, at least in print, “ghost trees” killed by rising sea level in 1938. In recent years, not surprisingly, ghost forests have emerged throughout the southeastern coast. In some cases, an increase in wetness and soil saturation is sufficient to kill trees not adapted to such conditions. Other trees, such as bald cypress, water tupelo, and swamp tupelo do just fine in constantly wet, even constantly underwater, conditions. Cypress can even tolerate a bit of salinity—but just a bit. So, when you see a lot of dead cypress, it may be a pretty good indicator of the effects of rising sea-level (Though cypress are long-lived, they do not live forever and individuals can be killed by factors other than salinity—thus scattered dead trees may or may not indicate sea-level rise effects). 


Ghost Cypress at the mouth of Otter Creek at the Neuse River, N.C.

I did a study in the lower Neuse River, N.C. of ghost cypress as an indicator of SLR (sea-level rise) effects, published in the scientific journal Wetlands Ecology and Management last year (1). If you are interested, it contains references to other studies of ghost forests in the region. 

The abstract of the article is below:

“Ghost cypress”—standing trees killed by increased salinity—indicate sea-level rise (SLR) eects along lower reaches of many coastal plain rivers. Mature cypress can survive indefinitely in permanently flooded sites, but experience mortality at salinities as low as 2 to 3 ppt. Thus, ghost trees in permanently inundated sites can indicate mortality due to increased salinity. Ghost cypress were mapped along the margins of the Neuse River estuary and fluvial-estuarine transition zone (FETZ), along with co-indicators of salinity as a potential cause of death. The distribution was compared with other indicators of upstream propagation of SLR eects; all occurred within a 25 km river reach. Many ghost cypress are consistent with SLR-driven mortality, but in the upper FETZ the co-indicators argue against it, and throughout the study area some ghost cypress lack co-indicators of salinity eects and may have been killed by other factors. The upstream limit of ghost cypress with co-indicators suggesting possible SLR-driven mortality, and the downstream limit of Nyssa aquatica and N. biflora, whose habitats and niches overlap almost entirely with Taxodium except for less salinity tolerance, occur downstream of other indicators of the leading edge of SLR. The furthest upstream is the hydraulic impact of backwater eects on river flow. Downstream, other eects are encountered: a transition from occasionally to frequently flooded wetlands, sedimentary burial of Pleistocene alluvial terraces, and a shift from dominantly mineral floodplain soils to Histosols. The ecological indicators of cypress and tupelo are furthest downstream. Hydraulic (backwater) eects are the leading edge of SLR impacts on the Neuse, trailed by geomorphological, sedimentological, and pedological indicators. Though biota often respond more rapidly to changes than landforms and soils, ecological indicators such as ghost cypress and forest-to-marsh transitions that are salinity dependent are the downstream-most sentinels of sea-level encroachment in rivers.

 

Ghost cypress near New Bern, N.C.

A couple of notes: For years, drivers passing over the bridges over the Cape Fear River in and upstream of Wilmington, N.C. have noted a ghost forest now transitioned to marsh with “stick” trees. While SLR has likely played a role, these tree depths are likely partly, if not mostly, due to dredging of the Cape Fear for the port of Wilmington which allowed saltwater to penetrate further upstream. 

 

Second, for those who may be aware of some ghost cypress and wonder whether salinity may be the culprit, here are the co-indicators I used in the article to assess whether SLR is a likely cause. 



--Jonathan Phillips, jdp@uky.edu

(1) Phillips, J.D. 2024. Ghost Cypress as indicators of sea-level rise in the Neuse River, North Carolina, USA. Wetlands Ecology and Management 32, 287-302. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11273-024-09977-0




Monday, February 24, 2025

The O.G. Swamp Thing

 This blog has nothing to do with the Swamp Thing comic books, but since I swiped the title from them, a brief homage is in order (see this post to see what the blog is all about).

Writer Len Wein and artist Bernie Wrightson came up with the Swamp Thing character, which first appeared in print for DC Comics in 1971 and got his own book in 1972. The character is a swamp monster resembling a humanoid  mound of vegetable matter, and is variously depicted as a hero, antihero, and villain. The hero interpretation is paramount, however, as Swamp Thing  protects nature and humans from threats of both scientific and supernatural origin, as an embodiment of the cosmic energies that gives life to all plant life in the known universe: "The Green". 



The cover of Swamp Thing #1, 1972. Art by Bernie Wrightson. Public domain image obtained via Wikimedia Commons.


S.T. emerges from a human scientist (there have been several over the character’s life) who is tragically killed and reemerges as the avatar of The Green—except in the most recent (2021) reinvention, where a young scientist is chosen at an early age to be the next Swamp Thing. 

 

Several writers and artists have worked on S.T. over the years, including a famous turn by Watchmen writer Alan Moore in the 1980s. Swamp Thing also appears in several films and in other media. 

 

Swamp Thing lives in Louisiana and has not commented on my Swamp Thing blog. 



Poster for Wes Craven’s 1982 Swamp Thing movie, starring Louis Jourdan & Adrienne Barbeau. 

Swamp Thing

Welcome to the Swamp Things blog. This is not about the classic comic book character Swamp Thing, though in a future post I will pay a bit of homage to him, as I clearly ripped off  borrowed the name.  

I have always had both a professional and personal/recreational interest in rivers and wetlands, an interest that has only intensified since I retired from my 8-to-5 job to become a writer in my original home turf of eastern North Carolina (I raked in $407 in royalties in 2024, but that’s OK since I lucked into a great financial advisor decades ago so I don’t have to depend of social security and royalties).

 

As a scientist who studies swamps, some of what appears here may be directed at fellow scientists, but those posts will be clearly labelled. This blog is for “civilians” (my term for non-scientists or scientists who do not specialize in wetland geomorphology, hydrology, or ecology). If you bothered to take a look at this and got past the part about it not being about the comic book character, you are probably either a swamp-lover, swamp-curious, or among the friends and family I have brow-beaten into taking a look. But I think the lessons we can learn from swamps are important enough to be of interest beyond fellow Swamp Things, so I hope I can eventually reach a broader audience.



Tar River, North Carolina

Common layperson’s understanding of what a swamp is—which is not wrong—is a wet area of soggy ground and/or shallow water with trees growing in it. However, this general concept of swampness encompasses a great deal of variability, from tidal mangrove swamps of the tropics to waterlogged forest patches tucked into high, cold mountains. Because “swamp” in popular lexicon is a very loose term which is sometimes applied to bogs, marshes, and miscellaneous wet patches—which is wrong—scientists often use terms such as forested wetlands. Wetlands are generally recognized to have three key properties—a hydrologic regime characterized by frequent inundation, saturation or high water tables, vegetation adapted to wetness (called hydrophytes), and soils that reflect effects of frequent saturation, such as features resulting from reducing and anaerobic conditions(1).


Forested wetlands occur in any setting that is sufficiently wet and where trees can grow. The forested wetlands I will deal with here occur in river valleys and along the margins of coastal areas in humid subtropical areas of the southeastern U.S., especially in the coastal plains of North and South Carolina, where my kayak and I roam, off and on since 1979 and consistently since 2017. 




My home swamp, next to my house in Craven County, NC

Like other Earth surface systems, the state (nature or condition and properties) of a swamp is determined by a combination of laws, place, and history. Laws are general laws or principles that are applicable regardless of place or time, such as the physical principles of flow hydraulics, or redox (reduction and oxidation) chemistry. Place refers to the local and regional environmental context, such as the geological framework, climate setting, topography, and biogeographic factors such as the range and distribution of wetland species. History is the time factor, encompassing the age or time a swamp has had to develop and evolve, the history of environmental changes such as climate, sea-level, and land use, and past disturbances such as hurricanes, floods, and fires. Thus, even two nearby swamps on, say, the Pee Dee River are going to have significant differences, but are also likely to have more similarity than, say, a Pee Dee swamp and one on the Mekong River in Asia. That’s one reason for geographically restricting the coverage here; to make the range of conditions a bit more manageable. The other is to focus on swamps I’ve actually been in. 

 

But that still leaves plenty of variety. Just to give an idea, take Michael Schafale’s 1235-page opus, Classification of the Natural Communities of North Carolina (4th Approximation), published in 2023 by the N.C. Natural Heritage Program. This contains 27 different coastal plain riverine or estuary-connected swamp types, and doesn’t even count depressional or isolated coastal plain swamps, marshes, swamps in other regions of the state, and numerous other wetland communities and habitats. 

 

The highest (most general) level in Schafale’s classification is the theme, one of which is the Coastal Plain Floodplains Theme. Within the theme, distinctions are made between brownwater and blackwater systems (there is also an intermediate category). 

 

Brownwater rivers are muddy to varying extents and are so-called because they carry a significant amount of suspended sediment and are accordingly turbid and cloudy (again, to varying extents). These include the larger rivers rising in the Piedmont or mountains and flowing across the Coastal Plain such as the Roanoke, Tar-Pamlico, Cape Fear, and Pee Dee (the blackwater/brownwater distinction applies throughout the region, not just to N.C.). It also includes smaller coastal plain streams whose watersheds experience significant amounts of soil erosion, usually due to agriculture, logging, construction, etc. Blackwater streams are confined to the Coastal Plain and their watersheds are mainly forested, so there is minimal suspended sediment, and organic acids (tannins) from vegetation and organic matter give the water a dark color. 



Jones County, NC

The next level of distinction is landforms. Floodplains have distinctive landforms such as natural levees, backswamps, ridges and swales, point bars, oxbow lakes, etc. These differ in elevation above river levels (and thus in their hydrologic regime) and in their soil or substrate characteristics and thus support different plant communities. In smaller streams the landforms may be too small to bother differentiating separate communities, so a single community may be identified across the entire floodplain. Finally, the dominant tree species are considered. So, for example, we have Cypress-Gum Swamp (Brownwater Subtype). These are found on brownwater river floodplains, in “very wet” forests with closed to somewhat open canopies. They are dominated by bald cypress (Taxodium distichum) tupelo gum (Nyssa spp). In this case the canopy contains  water tupelo (Nyssa aquatica) which is dominant or cod0minant with cypress. Swamp tupelo (N. biflora) is rare or absent. That’s just an example of one of the 27 communities; we’ll talk more about cypress, swamp, tupelo, water tupelo, and what they tell us about swamp dynamics in a later installment. 

South Carolina has an older (1986) and less detailed classification (only 64 pages), with only three types that might encompass the swamps of interest here. This classification does not separate brown and blackwater rivers, but does indicate that such separation may be warranted. (2)

There will be a bias in the blog toward geomorphology (landforms and surface processes such as deposition and erosion), hydrology, soils, and landscape-scale ecology, but I will also cover other aspects that I find interesting, which may include posts on critters (I know alligators and beavers will make it in eventually; requests or suggestions for others welcome); specific plants (other than cypress and tupelo, which will certainly appear), and perhaps even some history and anthropology. 

--Jonathan Phillips, jdp@uky.edu



(1) Iron-bearing minerals are subject to oxidation (rust is one example) when exposed to both air (free O2) and water. With just water and no air (saturation), iron becomes reduced. Oxidized iron is, for all intents and purposes, insoluble, while iron in reduced forms is soluble and can be leached out of soils and sediments. Therefore saturated, reducing conditions result in the loss of iron, often indicated by grey, blue, and greenish colors (oxidized iron is reddish, orange, yellow, or light brown). Anaerobic (no O2) conditions are important primarily because they greatly slow the rate of organic matter decomposition. 


(2) Nelson, J.B. 1986. The Natural Communities of South Carolina. South Carolina Wildlife and Marine Resources Department.





SWAMP BEAVERS

  In 1897, all native beavers ( Castor canadensis ) in North Carolina were gone; hunted and trapped to local extinction. In 1939, the N.C. D...