Local dolphins in the St. Johns River have been spotted with severe cases of skin lesions, indicating their immune systems are compromised. In these photos, a newborn calf is covered in lesions and also appears to have an orange algal-type mat growing on its rostrum (face) and dorsal fin. Unfortunately, this does not bode well for his/her survival. A similar algal-type mat was observed on resident adult dolphins at death.
There have been several recent reports on the east coast (in addition to the Gulf) of people spotting dolphins, manatees, and other marine wildlife with growths and fungi on them. These growths are attributed to red tide, which is an algal bloom that produces toxins that can kill marine organisms, taint shellfish, cause skin irritations, and even foul air. They can also cause respiratory issues in children and elderly.
Algal blooms naturally occur, however, scientists, fishermen, and outdoors-people have noticed that they have been increasing in size, intensity, and persistence in recent decades. This is attributed to the increase of foreign nutrients in coastal waters – which causes the algae to grow at an unnaturally fast rate.
I wanted to share some simple tips on identifying the algae and what you can do to help!
If you spot an algae bloom (like the one pictured), you can quickly report it by dropping a pin on the App “Water Rangers” https://app.waterrangers.ca/
Create a River Friendly Yard.
Whether you are in your car or boat or on foot, pay close attention to what is going on around you. Is dirt running off a construction site into a creek? Did you spot a fish kill or a broken pipe? Is someone illegally-dumping trash or pollution into a storm drain or directly into a river? Report these issues to your city works or state environmental agency (they should have a hotline).
Most importantly, keep children and pets away from blooms. Wash thoroughly if you have come into contact. And do not eat fish caught in bloom areas.
You may have noticed that lately, magnolia trees are blooming everywhere!
The Southern Magnolia has become a symbol for the deep South – even being chosen as the state tree of Mississippi and the state flower of Mississippi and Lousiana. However, these trees can grow in states ranging from southern portion of North Carolina, down to Florida, and all the way over to Texas.
These trees are large in every way. They grow 1-2 feet per year to reach a total height of 60-80 feet, and a width that is about half their height. Their blossoms can reach one foot in diameter when fully opened. Their leaves typically measure at least half a foot long.
When planting a magnolia, their size should be taken into consideration as well as their leaves. Seriously, I can speak from experience – these large leathery leaves are not to be taken lightly! As a kid, my parents sometimes gave me the chore of raking these leaves and collecting their large seed pods – and since these trees typically shed their leaves year-round, this can be never-ending. When this layer of heavy leaves is combined with the dense shade of the tree, you will be fighting a battle to try to retain your lawn underneath the tree. So, don’t plant a magnolia if you want a pristine lawn…. Or, unless you have children for free labor. (Just kidding!)
Magnolia seed pods are also frequently used in art and décor throughout the South. My favorite use of these seed pods is located in the Tattnall Square Park in Macon, GA. The park is currently undergoing a restoration, due to a community effort composed of locals and Mercer University students and staff. The park originally had several brick gateways, but they had since been torn down.
Rather than creating the typical magnolia finial (pictured above) the Friends of Tattnall Square (along with help from the Knight Neighborhood Challenge) got ceramicist Amy McCullough Hellis to create one-of-a-kind finials for the new gateways.
“Macon-based ceramicist Amy McCullough Hellis designed and created the magnolia pod finials special for Tattnall Square Park; Mike Dobson at Westside Stonework did the incredibly complex rubber mold and stone casting for the finials; and Franco DeMichiel oversaw the entire project. Most importantly, we decided not to use a prefab or mail order catalog finial early on in the process. We wanted something more creative and imaginative—something that really reflected Tattnall Square’s own personality as a center of creativity and natural beauty. After bandying ideas back and forth, Tattnall Square art adviser and decorative artist Katy Olmsted suggested that we create original finials to reflect the many seed pods or nuts present inside the park […] Inspired by the scores of old magnolias in the park, Amy chose an autumn magnolia seedpod as her model and worked on the piece for ten months, first finding pods, then sculpting a maquette (a small model), and then another maquette, and finally the larger piece. She wanted to create something that looked hand-crafted, rather than mechanically reproduced, something asymmetrical to reflect the unique and asymmetrical world of nature (and magnolia pods), and something that subtly suggests the historic arches at Tattnall’s gateways.”
– Andrew Silver, pictures and quote posted on Friends of Tattnall Square Park
It’s Easter Week! What better time to write about the Gullah Geechee faith?
Gullah religious systems and beliefs are derived from African tradition and the Christianity practiced by their former white plantation owners. While adhering to Christian doctrine, the Gullah practice a faith immersed in communal prayer, song, and dance.
The place –
While traveling throughout the coastal south, you may have come across small, whitewashed shacks in varying degrees of preservation or disrepair. These are known as praise houses. During the antebellum period, slaves were not permitted to worship in white churches, nor were they allowed to congregate in large groups for fear of rebellion. Small praise houses were purposely built to have an unthreatening presence. These whitewashed shacks once provided a place where blacks could worship, celebrate, and hold community meetings.
The sermon –
Many traditional African American churches are known for incorporating singing, dancing, and shouting into their worship services. Gullah Geechee services share this quality, which is derived from slave services where the congregation was unable to read. Most praise houses only had one Bible or hymnal, and being literate was a rarity. To address this, the congregation developed a call-response type of service, where the leader would loudly deliver the sermon, passages, or hymn, and the congregation would learn by verbally repeating it back. Additionally, the groups might clap or stomp to set a beat for the call-response. From this developed the performance of a Gullah Geechee ring shout, which is usually set for special occasions such as holidays or funerals.
A somewhat famous, but lesser understood feature of Gullah-Geechee faith is the blending of traditional African beliefs of hoodoo, wudu, or juju. In contrast to voodoo, this is a “lighter” form of folk magic that relies on an intimate relationship with the earth as an ancestral or parental relationship. Hoodoo heavily involves the use of herbs and roots for medicinal purposes, and from these practices, you may have heard of individuals known as "Root Doctors."
Until the 20th century, many lowcountry communities had their own root doctor. Dr. Buzzard, Dr. Bug, Dr. Snake, Dr. Crow. Just as people now keep lawyers on retainer, locals (both black and white) paid regular visits to their spiritual “doctor.” During the WWII, lines of visitors went down the street to pay a visit to Dr. Bug, who sold charms laced with arsenic causing heart palpitations for men who wanted to avoid the draft.
Naturally, the rapidly decreasing number of Gullah-Geechee homes and communities has resulted in a variety of abandoned homes on barrier islands throughout the Coastal South. While growing up in this area, exploring these homes was a great way to fill a boring day. You just have to be careful not to fall through too many floors.
St. Helena Island, SC
Favorite picture of an abandoned home that illustrates the vernacular architecture of Gullah-Geechee, which has survived since the antebellum era.
Sapelo Island, GA
Belle Marsh. Lumber Landing. Shell Hammock. Raccoon Bluff. Hog Hammock. These were the picturesque names of the slave and freedmen communities on Sapelo Island. In the 1950s, these communities were home to an estimated 500 Geechee people. Today only Hog Hammock remains, with just 70 residents who represent Georgia’s last remaining community of coastal West African slave descendants.
Saint Simons Island, GA
Abandoned interior on Saint Simons Island, which was originally home to three Gullah-Geechee communities: Southend, Jewtown, and Harrington.
Daufuskie Island, SC
Daufuskie’s population peaked during the 1950s, when it was home to approximately 1000 people (primarily Gullah) and a booming local oyster industry. However, due to pollution from the Savannah River the oyster industry rapidly declined, as did Daufuskie’s population. Now, there are only 12 remaining Gullah on the island.
While Gullah community on Daufuskie is nearly extinct, the island is still being looked to as a (possible) beacon for preservation. The Palmetto Trust for Historic Preservation is a non-profit that received a 150 thousand dollar grant to begin the Daufuskie Endangered Places Program. The program invests money into the homes to rehabilitate them in exchange for a lease. That lease allows them to earn the money back through tourism and donations. After the homes earns back the original 150 thousand-dollar investment it is returned to the owner. The lease will not exceed 30 years.
Understandably, after facing so many developer schemes over recent decades, many surviving Gullah owners are hesitant to enter into any agreement that results in handing over their property ownership.
An example of what could be:
Moses Ficklin’s cottage is an example of one of the restored historic Gullah homes on Daufuskie Island.
The enormous live oak pictured is believed to predate Spanish explorers when they first came to Daufuskie Island. The classic Gullah house was purposely constructed under its shady, cool branches circa 1925. Moses Ficklin was a deacon of the First Union African Baptist Church and the Gullah undertaker, assisted by his wife Grace. He always kept a supply of $100 caskets on hand. The old carriage that was used as a hearse can be viewed outside the Mt. Carmel Baptist Church No. 2 at the Billie Burn Museum.
Similar to Mobile’s Africatown community, the east coast is home to West African slave descendants known as the Gullah-Geechee. “Gullah” is the accepted name for islanders in South Carolina, while “Geechee” refers to those islanders in Georgia and North Florida. It is believed that Geechee originates from the name of the Ogeechee River south of Savannah, Ga. In Georgia, Freshwater Geechee refers to those that live on the mainland, while Saltwater Geechee refers to islanders.
Originally, these Africans were chosen specifically for their knowledge of farming rice and other coastal crops – primarily in Sierra Leone and surrounding areas. As such, in America, the Gullah-Geechee worked almost exclusively with coastal rice, indigo, and sea island cotton plantations. While the two cultures are similar to each other, their isolated island locations resulted in distinctive differences from other slave communities. Their Sea Island creole language, African-meets-coastal food, and beliefs have become a celebrated part of their culture and traditions.
“Rice is what forms the special link between the Gullah and the people of Sierra Leone. During the 1700s the American colonists in South Carolina and Georgia discovered that rice would grow well in the moist, semitropical country bordering their coastline. But the American colonists had no experience with the cultivation of rice, and they needed African slaves who knew how to plant, harvest, and process this difficult crop. The white plantation owners purchased slaves from various parts of Africa, but they greatly preferred slaves from what they called the “Rice Coast” or “Windward Coast”—the traditional rice-growing region of West Africa, stretching from Senegal down to Sierra Leone and Liberia. The plantation owners were willing to pay higher prices for slaves from this area, and Africans from the Rice Coast were almost certainly the largest group of slaves imported into South Carolina and Georgia during the 18th century.”
At the start of the Civil War, Union troops rushed to blockage Confederate shipping. Fearing they would be invaded, the Sea Islands were abandoned by their plantation owners. However, the slave communities continued to live their lives uninterrupted. In the event that Union troops did arrive on the islands, there were several records of Gullah-Geechee men joining the effort to defend their freedom. At the conclusion of the war, few plantation owners attempted to restart their island enterprises, allowing the Gullah-Geechee an opportunity to buy the land at a low price. Here, the communities were able to avoid many of the racial tensions that would occur over the follow century, including Jim Crow.
However, with few exceptions, freed slaves were still excluded from the legal system after the Civil War, so the properties were not able to be “willed” from generation to generation. Instead, the land is held in common. The families are entitled to live on it under "heir's property rights." However, since the Gullah-Geechee property sits on “prime” coastal real estate, this historic arrangement has presented several common issues:
With the variety of pressures and schemes that outsiders use in attempts to make a profit off these small communities, the difficultly to hold on to the land will only increase. As a visible example, the only remaining 200 acres of undeveloped land on Hilton Head Island belongs to the Gullah people. (Hilton Head Island was once an entirely Gullah community.) Sadly, the loss of land also equates to a loss of coastal history and culture that has existed since colonial times.
After the twinkling lights and ornaments have been packed away, most of the nation settles into a deep hibernation – where social obligations are few and rarely spent outdoors. However, coastal residents continue to celebrate the season with a knife in one hand and a glove on the other. In the Southeast, it’s fair to estimate that a mention of a bushel of oysters is met with greater enthusiasm and attendance than any given warm-weather party (no matter how many kegs or slip’n’ slides are advertised).
Oysters have been a part of the local diet even before the arrival of Europeans. Pre-colonial mounds (AKA middens) of oyster shells can still be found scattered across barrier islands and throughout the Lowcountry. In fact, historians believe that the oyster roast as we now know it most certainly has Native American roots. Native Americans also used the razor-sharp shells for a variety of tasks.
Early settlers made use of the leftover shells, burning them to extract lime then mixing it with sand, water, and more oyster shells to create a durable type of concrete called "tabby." Tabby is known for being able to withstand the elements (even fire), and it was used in the building of houses and other structures, some of which are still standing.
Oysters continued to gain significance throughout the colonies and it is even said that Charleston’s old social calendar was purposely aligned with the season for oyster harvesting. However, most Charleston socialites didn’t originally shuck oysters, but poached them for soups and sauces. One of the most ubiquitous of these dishes was creamed oysters or "chafing dish oysters." Ladled over toast or pastries, creamed oysters were almost as important to a ball as the champagne... (Read more below.)
The Emerald Coast is the unofficial name for the Florida panhandle, stretching 100 miles from the Panama City area to the state line. Some Coastal Alabama towns embrace the name as well. The term refers to the area’s emerald-green waters. According to the Daily News, the name was coined by a junior high school student during the 1980s during a competition to create a new slogan for the area. He won $50.
The Flora-Bama Lounge and Package (aka The Flora-Bama) sits right on the Florida-Alabama state line. It’s been touted as being America's "Last Great Roadhouse" – the five-star honky-tonk of the Redneck Riviera, immortalized in song by Jimmy Buffett and in prose by John Grisham. Its greatness is agreed upon by all who gaze upon it in wonder, some of them seeing two of it. It’s a mix of honky-tonk, oyster bar, beach bar, and Gulf Coast cultural landmark. (... See below to read more.)
You may have noticed these same fences on almost all beaches, both here and in other parts of the world. The sand fences look thin and flimsy, but they’re actually serving a great purpose. The fence is made of wood slats that are deliberately spread apart. These openings allow for sand to be blown into the fence, but then accumulate naturally in that area. These simple fences help restore sand dunes in populated areas and prevent future erosion. Gulf State Park is currently undergoing a $135 million dollar project to install these fences, which will be paid for by the 2010 BP oil spill funds.
The dune pictured below stood around 8-9 feet high. Much of Florida’s panhandle used to be bordered by similar dunes. As you move away from the beach, you can see ancient dunes that resemble hills, growing pine and oak trees. Though these have become rare in Florida (due to development), in recent years residents have realized that dunes provide an extremely effective and cost efficient barrier against erosion and storms. Now, dune restoration has become a popular cause in many coastal communities.
You may have noticed that beaches on the gulf are well known for this ultra-white, sugary appearance. This is because the sand is almost entirely made of quartz. Ironically, quartz is not a naturally occurring part of the Gulf Coast -- so how did all this white sand get there?
These quartz particles are originally from the quartz rock in the Appalachian Mountains. At the end of the last Ice Age when the world temperatures began warming and the ice caps began melting, large rivers washed down the mountains and carried the sand to the ocean. The quartz sand that is in the Gulf of Mexico can be traced up the Apalachicola River, which rises in the Appalachians.
Posts are a combination of my own research, visits, and conversations, plus various information found around the web. I try to provide sources, but if you have specific questions, feel free to ask!