Mussel PowerCan It Help Clean the Bay?

CHESAPEAKEQUARTERLYCHESAPEAKEQUARTERLY

Mussel PowerCan It Help Clean the Bay?

MARYLAND SEA GRANT COLLEGE • VOLUME 6, NUMBER 2

contents Volume 6, Number 2

Cover photo: Clinging to any free surface they could find, dark false mussels encrusted ropes like this one inthe summer of 2004, when a bivalve explosion took the Magothy, South, and Severn rivers by storm.PHOTOGRAPH BY PETER BERGSTROM.

Photo, opposite page: Waving graceful tentacles, this anemone occupies a nook of an artificial reef, onlyone of hundreds of inhabitants there. PHOTOGRAPH BY ADAM FREDERICK.

Quote, opposite page: (Paragraph 3) From “Poached Oysters,” Harper’s Monthly Magazine, March 4, 1884;Ruley Covington, “I Remember Oystering in the 1890s,” Baltimore Sun, March 7, 1971 in Wennersten, John. TheChesapeake: An Environmental Biography. Baltimore: Maryland Historical Society, 1971.

CHESAPEAKE QUARTERLY October 2007

Chesapeake Quarterly explores scientific, environmental, and cultural issues relevant to the Chesapeake Bay andits watershed.

This magazine is produced and funded by the Maryland Sea Grant College Program, which receives supportfrom the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and the state of Maryland. Editors, Jack Greer andMichael W. Fincham; Managing Editor and Art Director, Sandy Rodgers; Contributing Editor, Erica Goldman.Send items for the magazine to:

Maryland Sea Grant College4321 Hartwick Road, Suite 300University System of MarylandCollege Park, Maryland 20740301.405.7500, fax 301.314.5780e-mail: mdsg@mdsg.umd.eduwww.mdsg.umd.edu

We gratefully acknowledge support for Chesapeake Quarterly from the Chesapeake Bay Trust for 2007.

8 Sampling Life at the Bottom of the BayAn annual inventory of the diverse life that inhabits

the Bay’s mud provides one way of keeping tabs on

the health of the estuary.

11 From Headwater to BayCould restoring filter feeders to streams

upriver make a difference to water quality

downstream?

4 The Other Filter Feeders: Mussels, Clams, & MoreA population explosion of one small mussel helped clear the waters

of a creek off the Magothy. What could this mean for the rest of the Bay?

16 Performance Honors Rachel Carson’s Life and WorkAs part of its 30th anniversary celebration, Maryland Sea Grant will

host a performance of the one-woman show A Sense of Wonder.

12 Clear Water through Clam Culture?Does a commercial aquaculture enterprise have the potential

to help clean up the Chesapeake?

Elliptio complanata

Sea grape

the waters clear.Today’s Chesapeake is a changed place — aproduct of human engineering, intended or otherwise.The Bay’secology has been sculpted by years of harvest, use, and oftenabuse.

The Bay of the future will also be shaped by acts of engi-neering, its ecological state reflecting choices that we make torestore or deplete aquatic resources and to develop or conservesurrounding land.We’re trying as hard as we can to bring backthe native oyster, and we’re even considering introducing a non-native one.We’re trying to spawn the great ancient sturgeon,hoping to restock the rivers with young fish raised in hatcheries.But we rarely think about mussels, sea squirts, clams, and worms.We keep some track of their comings and goings through sur-veys, but they’ve largely fallen to the sidelines of any activerestoration plans.

If our goal for the Chesapeake is cleaner waters and healthierfisheries, perhaps these less glamorous animals could lend a hand,assisting oysters with the monumental task of filtering the Bay’smurky water. For the Chesapeake’s one species of oyster, thereare dozens of other species — mussels, clams, and more — eachequipped with a similar strategy for feeding, one that removesalgae from the water column. Perhaps the oyster will alwaysreign supreme among filter feeders. But aren’t the others worth acloser look?

— Erica Goldman

W e mourn the loss of the Bay’s oysters, oftheir ecological prowess and of the way oflife they made possible.We mourn the loss

of the Bay’s great fisheries, of 100-lb sturgeon thatonce cruised these waters and shad that migrated upthe Bay by the millions.

We don’t mourn the less charismatic creatures ––the sea squirts, worms, mussels, and clams.The otherfilter feeders that lived in the crevices of oyster reefsand the bottom-dwellers that lived in soft sediment,they too have declined in diversity and abundance,along with the health of the Bay. But we don’t missthem like we miss the oysters.

The oysters went noisily, amidst conflict and gun-fire.Their loss was felt with deep regret. One water-man reflected in the late 19th century,“If I had achance to live my life over again, I guess it would beout on the water with the gulls when the sun come up on aboat, wheeling, and whipping around for another pass across abed where the oysters used to come up as big as a man’s hand.”

The others, those creatures of the benthos, were the civiliancasualties of the oyster wars, of urbanization and pollution.Theyleft quietly, their absence as inconspicuous as their presence.Wedon’t even know exactly what species once thrived in greatabundance.We’ve only been keeping tabs recently, our recordsreflecting times of scarcity, not of bounty.

During a recent visit to the National Museum of NaturalHistory, I was struck by a diorama showing the creatures of theBurgess Shale as they might have looked living in ancient seas.The display showcased a living reef structure, reconstructed fromfossils found in the Canadian Rockies in the early 1900s. Everynook and cranny was filled with life, the bottom of the oceancarpeted by ancient starfish-like crinoids and wriggling withcrustaceans.

Did the Bay’s oyster reefs once look like this? While histori-cal reconstructions and maps of oyster reefs in the Chesapeakeoffer clues to the shape and extent of these structures, we knowcomparatively little about those animals that lived among theoysters and those that thrived in and on the bottom of the Bay.

We’ve lost more than we ever knew we had.We’ll neverknow for sure what role these other species played in the ecol-ogy of the Bay of the past, how they may have helped to keep

Volume 6, Number 2 • 3

Collateral Damage We Can’t Afford

By Erica Goldman

Mussels, Clams, & MoreTHE OTHER FILTER FEEDERS

A s Peter Bergstrom wades into OldMan Creek, he’s grateful he’swearing neoprene socks. Calf-

deep in the chilly water of early spring, hefloats his blue kayak just past the ramp atStewart’s Landing in Severna Park,Maryland and climbs in carefully, tuckinghis slight frame into the hull.The riskiesttime for capsizing is getting in.

Bergstrom paddles into the creek,wending his way along a coastline packedwith houses, their narrow backyard docksjutting into the water.The tide is on theebb and already the water level is lowenough to expose the wooden pilingsbeneath the piers. Bergstrom maneuvershis kayak next to a piling, reaches intothe water, and runs his hand down thepole.

In 2004 just a faint touch ofBergstrom’s fingers on the piling wouldhave sent strange little bivalves cascadingto the creek’s silty bottom.That summerthe dark false mussel, as mysterious as itsname, grew thick in Old Man Creek, atributary off the Magothy River nearAnnapolis. Mussels clung like heavy car-pets to almost every hard surface.Theywould tumble off under their ownweight.

Now as Bergstrom drifts from pilingto piling, he comes up empty-handed,feeling only a few rough-edged barnacles.He’s not surprised the mussels are gone.Abiologist for the National Oceanic andAtmospheric Administration (NOAA),Bergstrom has served 16 years as the vol-unteer monitoring coordinator for theMagothy River Association.And he hadnever before seen the likes of what hap-pened in the summer of 2004, when hun-dreds of millions of these creatures founda temporary home in creeks of theMagothy, South, and Severn rivers.

Bergstrom thinks that the dark falsemussels rode in on the coattails ofHurricane Isabel in late 2003, their larvaecatching a plume of water that moved upfrom the saltier mid-Bay, where thesecreatures tend to live among oyster reefs.Finding their surroundings suitable, theysettled on any hard surface they couldfind –– pilings, riprap, the hulls of boats.

And they ate.And ate.The dark false mussel proved its punch

as a powerful filter feeder that summer.Native to the Chesapeake and a close rela-tive of the zebra mussel, the dark falsemussel at its peak abundance was esti-mated to filter nearby Cattail Creek in justunder two days.

The mussels ate algae and the watersof Old Man Creek cleared. In 2004 thecreek measured the clearest it had everbeen since Bergstrom started monitoringthere in 1991. Fewer solid particles (totalsuspended solids) clouded the water.Bottom dissolved oxygen levels improved.Underwater grasses started to come back.According to locals, more juvenile bluecrabs scuttled through new nurserygrounds.

Then they were gone.The populationof dark false mussels exploded practicallyovernight –– then, just as suddenly,they disappeared. Perhaps the musselsneeded saltier waters to reproducesuccessfully or perhaps they fell victim topredation. Scientists still don’t know forsure. But to those who live on theMagothy, who fight for the health oftheir river, the clear waters engineeredby the dark false mussel became asymbol for the power of prolific filterfeeders, of what once was, and whatcould be again.

Bergstrom’s kayak paddle draws ripplesin the still morning water as he makes hisway among the pilings of Old ManCreek.These days his white paddle disap-pears almost instantly as it dips below thecreek’s surface. Old Man Creek is murkyagain, as murky as it has ever been.Andthe dark false mussel is nowhere to befound.

Filter Power

Aside from oysters, filter feeders (alsocalled suspension feeders) rarely drawmuch attention in Bay country.Who arethese other filter feeders that call theChesapeake Bay home? And do they —or could they — thrive in enough num-bers to help clear the Bay’s murky waters?

The strange epidemic of dark falsemussels in the Magothy became an unan-ticipated biological experiment of sorts ––a “proof of concept.”

“What it showed is that if you couldget some sort of suspension feeder in

Volume 6, Number 2 • 5

Dark false mussels grew so thick on pilingslike this one (opposite page) in the summer of2004 that they tumbled off under their ownweight. Balancing his logbook carefully, volun-teer monitoring coordinator Peter Bergstrom(above) jots down notes as he searches for thelong-gone mussels earlier this year in OldMan Creek, a tributary of the Magothy Rivernear Annapolis.

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there in a sustainable fashion, it could startto improve the water quality,” says LindaSchaffner, an ecologist at the VirginiaInstitute of Marine Science (VIMS) inGloucester Point, at the southern end ofthe Bay.

These types of feeders, she explains,could help lock up (sequester) nutrientsin their body tissues, paving the way foraquatic plants and animals that needclearer waters to survive.“I used to jokethat we should hang ropes and let Molgula(a sea squirt that fouls dock pilings) grow,”she says. But that, she says, is exactly whathappened when the dark false musselsettled on every available surface –– ropes,boats, pilings, cages.

What’s keeping these other filter feed-ers from thriving in greater numbers inother habitats? Lack of substrate poses onedefinite problem. Opportunistic filterfeeders grow essentially as fouling com-munities, Schaffner explains. Increasing

the population size of these other specieswould depend on being able to increasethe amount of available hard-bottomedsurface in open water environments.

Salinity also presents an obstacle. Instreams, freshwater filter feeders can do agood job of improving water quality. Intidal marshes, salinity-tolerant musselsgrow prolifically. But fewer filter feedersthrive in mid-salinity, deeper water areas,which may leave an ecological nicheempty in the mid-Bay, according toRoger Newell, an oyster biologist at theUniversity of Maryland Center forEnvironmental Science Horn PointLaboratory. He believes that only oysterscould fill that niche, since they thrive indeeper water and can tolerate the widestrange of salinity.

Scientists don’t know much yet aboutthe potential for other filter feeders toaffect water quality in the Chesapeake. Inthe York River, so-called opportunistic

suspension feeders –– sea squirts (tuni-cates), polychaete worms, clams, and mus-sels to name a few –– outnumber oystersfive to one, explains Schaffner.“If there isany effect of suspension feeders on waterquality here [in the York River], it is fromthese opportunistic species,” she says.

These species tend not to draw a lotof scientific interest, says Schaffner. Shetried to secure a grant for a larger-scaleeffort to survey them in the ChesapeakeBay, but the project did not mesh withcurrent funding priorities. She ended uplimiting her survey to the York Riversince it was easier to mobilize a smaller-scale effort on a shoestring budget, butshe’d like to do more.

Looking closely at this issue reallyshould be the next step for the Chesa-peake, says ecologist Danielle Kreeger.Kreeger works in a different estuary ––the Delaware Bay –– studying the poten-tial for native mussels to help restore

6 • Chesapeake Quarterly

Often mistaken for the invasive zebra mussel, the native dark falsemussel (Mytilopsis leucophaeata) is, in fact, its close cousin — distin-guishable by a distinctive tooth-like projection on the inside of its shell.These photos of the dark false mussel were taken in the summer of 2004in the Magothy River, where it proliferated in huge numbers, attachingitself with strong byssal threads to every hard substrate available.Pe

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water and habitat quality in both the tidalsystem and up in the streams and rivers(see From Headwater to Bay, p. 11).Tothoroughly assess the potential impact ofthese other filter feeders, she says, youneed to know what volume of wateractually gets processed and how often thatparcel of water comes in contact with theanimal. Such an effort would require aninterdisciplinary team of ecologists andhydrodynamic modelers, according toKreeger, who is the science director forthe Partnership for the Delaware Estuary,one of the 28 National Estuary Programsmodeled after the Chesapeake BayProgram.

Kreeger has started down this pathalready, working with researchers fromseveral institutions and students fromDrexel University in Philadelphia, whereshe maintains her research lab. She’s madepreliminary calculations for several species,including the marsh mussel, Geukensiademissa, which thrives in the DelawareBay’s tidal marshes. Kreeger estimates thatthe mass of marsh mussels in summer fil-ters 60 billion liters per hour, more thansix times what the current population ofoysters in Delaware Bay can filter.

Powers of Transformation

Planting her ski pole on the uneven trail,Harriette Phelps begins the half-mile trekdown to the Potomac River near IndianHead, Maryland. She’s recovering from legsurgery and moves cautiously down thetrail, part of Fort Foote Park. EarlGreenidge, her former student and cur-rent data technician, carries her field col-lecting gear and walks nimbly ahead, eas-ily managing the bulky equipment.

By the time Phelps reaches the sandybeach, Greenidge is already hunched overin the knee-deep water of low tide,scooping sand from the bottom using theexterior cage of a fan (the so-called fanguard) as a sieve.With each fan-full, hebrings up more than a dozen small clamsthat remain behind in the fan guard afterthe sand falls through. Phelps, an emeritabiologist at the University of the Districtof Columbia (UDC), instructs Greenidgeto keep sampling until he gets 200 of

these small, ridged clams, called Corbiculafluminea.

Greenidge meets the target number inunder five minutes –– Corbicula thrives athigh densities in the Potomac. He wadesback to the beach and transfers the clamsinto shellfish bags made from hard plastic.Phelps and Greenidge pack up theirequipment and head back up the trail.

A potent filter feeder, Corbicula maytake some of the credit for improvingwater quality conditions in the PotomacRiver, according to Phelps. Scientists firstidentified Corbicula in the Potomac in1977, and they watched as populations ofthese clams rapidly increased. By the mid-1980s, Phelps, with help from her studentsat UDC, calculated that the spring-sum-mer clam population could filter one-third of all the water in this region of theestuary daily.As early as 1981, researchersreported a tripling of water clarity in theregion of the clam beds. In 1983, sub-merged aquatic vegetation (SAV) reap-peared for the first time in 50 years.Starting in 1984, the Washington, D.C.Christmas Bird Census reported signifi-cant increases in several aquatic bird pop-ulations. By 1986, fish populations hadincreased up to seven times in the newlygrown beds of underwater grasses.Corbicula may have helped trigger thesesystem-level changes in the PotomacRiver, as Phelps reported in a 1994 articlein the journal Estuaries.

But the river experienced otherchanges at the same time, so the role thatthe clams played proves tough to parse.Improved sewage treatment at thePotomac River-based Blue Plains WasteTreatment Plant, along with a ban onphosphorus in laundry detergent, helpedimprove water quality by decreasing theflow of nutrients to the river.The fast-growing invasive plant Hydrilla verticillataalso appeared in the Potomac in the mid-1980s. Hydrilla may have also helpedtransform the ecosystem by stabilizing thebottom, producing oxygen, and encourag-ing the growth of native plants.

Corbicula’s positive impact on waterquality comes in a complicated package.Like Hydrilla, it is a non-native, invasive

species. From its native range in Asia,Corbicula was imported to the west coastof the U.S. in the 1930s for food in Asianmarkets.When scientists first identifiedthis clam in the Potomac River, theybraced for the worst, fearing that it wouldbehave like the dreaded zebra mussel,attaching to every available hard surface,clogging water intake pipes at powerplants, and transforming the fundamentalwho-eats-whom structure of theChesapeake’s freshwater rivers.A researchnote published by U.S. Geological Surveyscientists in Estuaries in 1980 adopted awarning tone, stating that this additionof Corbicula fluminea to the PotomacRiver ecosystem must be followedattentively.The paper cited anotherresearcher who called the clam “the mostcostly liability of all exotic mollusks inNorth America.”

Despite these fears, the worst did notcome to pass. Unlike the zebra mussel orthe native dark false mussel, Corbicula lacksbyssal threads and cannot attach to hardsurfaces.The clam did cause some prob-lems due to fouling –– the PotomacElectric Power Company reported opera-tional problems caused by clamshells andsilt clogging their condenser coolingwater tubes.As they drift downstream,juvenile clams also get caught inside theintake wells of power plants. But with anopen ecological niche available along thesandy bottom sediments of the river,Corbicula could spread rapidly withoutcrowding out populations of nativespecies in the Potomac.As a result, scien-tists do not think the clam has had amajor impact on the river’s food web,except as a food source for birds andmuskrats.

When Phelps reaches her Honda backin the parking area, she realizes she forgotto bring the ice packs to keep the clamscold while in transit. She makes plans tostop for ice at a nearby fast food restau-rant on their way to the Anacostia River.

Phelps is moving these clams from thenow relatively unpolluted Potomac to thevery polluted Anacostia, to a point in thecontaminated northeast branch in

Volume 6, Number 2 • 7

Continued on p. 10

A s the small survey boat passes underthe imposing span of Baltimore’s KeyBridge, Roberto Llanso rushes to get

ready. Station 201, their first stop in thePatapsco River, is just a few minutes away andhe hurries to pull on his yellow hip waderoveralls, set up buckets, and label collectionbags for the mud samples they will pull fromthe bottom.

On this first day of the spring 2007 sam-pling season, Llanso and his data coordinator/boat captain Craig Bruce still have some kinksto iron out.They encountered early morningmechanical difficulties and had to switch boatsat the last minute so they’re running late.They’llhave to push to finish sampling all of the day’splanned stations.

But Llanso has done the drill many timesbefore and by the time they reach the stationat the mouth of Baltimore Harbor, he’s ready.Since 1999, Llanso has directed the Marylandportion of the Chesapeake Bay Program’sLong-Term Benthic Monitoring Component.He’s a benthic ecologist at Versar, the environ-mental consulting company that coordinatesthe survey for the Bay Program.

Since its inception in 1984, the Bay Programhas been trying to inventory what lives in thesoft bottom (the benthos) all over theChesapeake.This long-term record providesscientists and managers with clues to the well-being of some of the Bay’s bottom-dwellers ––worms, some clams, insect larvae, and shrimp-like crustaceans. Because these creatures liveentirely within the sediment they’re calledinfauna, and in the Bay some 400 species havebeen identified.

Collectively, these bottom-dwellers tell astory about the state of the environment. Lifeon the bottom sends signals about the healthof the water above it –– polluted, healthy, orsomewhere in-between, signs that constantlychange as conditions in the Bay change.Thepresence, absence, or overall abundance ofparticular species can help managers under-

stand the impacts of stressors such as shorelinedevelopment or nutrient loading.When speciesable to tolerate pollution proliferate, thoseorganisms indicate that a particular site mighthave elevated concentrations of certain con-taminants or low levels of dissolved oxygen.Other species that thrive only when conditionsare ideal tell managers that the bottom, at leastlocally, is healthy.

But bottom-dwellers also change theirenvironment.These organisms help circulateorganic matter through the Bay’s food web(trophic transfer).The water column affects the

state of the life on the bottom and the life ofthe bottom affects the state of the water col-umn. It’s a classic chicken-and-egg conundrumand one that’s difficult to tease apart out hereon the Bay.

Sunlight glinting off the surface of the watermakes it difficult for Bruce to focus, even withthe shade from his sunglasses and baseball cap.He braces against the movement of the heavymetal grab as the winch jerks upward with thefirst sample in tow.“It’s like driving someoneelse’s quirky car,” he says. Bruce too is a sea-soned veteran at benthic sampling, but this is

Sampling Life at th

Mussels (5 species inbrackish/saltwater; more thana dozen in freshwater)*

Attached to rocks and othersurfaces by fine fibers calledbyssal threads, mussels opentheir shells during high tide todraw in water and filter outfood particles over their gills.

Clams (37 species)*

Clams draw water in onesiphon, and push it outanother, catching planktonmaterial in the processwithin mucus on their gills.

A Few Good Filter FeedersThe benthos encompasses a diverse and

somewhat mysterious group of organisms,each playing a distinct role in moving nutrientsthrough the Bay’s food web. As they eat, filter(suspension) feeders remove algae from thewater column. Some of these organisms, likecertain clams and worms, live entirely within thesediment (infauna). But many of the stellar filterfeeders of the benthos attach to hard substrateand live on the bottom (epifauna) rather than init. Epifauna — oysters, mussels, barnacles, seasquirts, and others — are not sampled system-atically by the Bay Program and therefore notused in the calculation of the benthic index.According to some researchers, these groupsshould be added to the annual count.

Hooked mussel (Ischadiumrecurvum)

Hard clam (Mercenariamercenaria)

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Visit www.mdsg.umd.edu/CQ/V06N2/videos/ to see some ofthese filter feeders in action.

the first time he’s worked the winch apparatuson this boat.

When the awkward metal grab breachesthe surface, Bruce recognizes immediately thatthe mud sample is too small, falling well short ofthe 15-centimeter minimum needed to com-pute the benthic index of biotic integrity (B-IBI).He turns to Llanso and tells him that they’llhave to take an additional sample at that sta-tion.The instrument again falls quickly to thePatapsco River’s mucky bottom.

The benthic index scores the health of thesoft sediment benthos on a scale from 1 to 5,

with scores greater than 3 indicating good habi-tat quality.The index compares each site to aset of reference values expected under unde-graded conditions in similar habitat types.Thesemetrics include species abundance, biomass, anddiversity, as well as the percentage of pollution-indicative and pollution-sensitive groups ofanimals.

The metal grab surfaces again.This timethe mud sample measures large enough tocount for the index calculation so Bruce dumpsit onto a large mesh sieve. Jet-black sedimentsplashes Llanso’s overalls and spatters his

glasses, sending up a noxious whiff of rotteneggs. Llanso stores a small amount of mud inplastic sample bags for later analysis and washesthe rest through the sieve, leaving behind onlybigger particles.Aside from a few emptyclamshells and a couple of polychaete worms,the sediment from this polluted part of thePatapsco harbors little life.

The mud from station 201 represents oneof 27 sites in Maryland that are sampled eachspring and summer to identify long-term trendsin the condition of particular places over time.Later in the summer, the monitoring programalso takes samples from a set of sites selectedrandomly each year. These so-called probability-based samples, 150 in Maryland and 100 inVirginia, help estimate the area of the estuarywith benthic communities that meet or fail tomeet the Bay Program’s goal of a benthic indexscore of 3 or above for every site sampled.

So how is the Bay’s benthos doing? Notwell. Reports from 2006 indicate one of theworst years for benthic community conditionon record.The Upper Bay and lower EasternShore measured fairly healthy, but the mainstemof the Bay, the Patapsco and Back rivers, thelower Western Shore, and the Potomac andChoptank rivers all received failing grades.Overall, 59 percent of the tidal Chesapeake Baybottom failed to meet established restorationgoals.And no signs suggest that 2007 will ratemuch better.

An unhealthy benthos means an unhealthyBay, even if worms, clams, and insect larvae flyunder most people’s radars. Luckily, the reversemay also prove true. Improving the integrity oflife on the bottom, by reducing the flow ofnutrients and other pollutants into the water,might jumpstart a cascade of improvements ––less algae, clearer water, more underwatergrasses.“Save the Benthos” might not make aslogan catchy enough for bumper stickers, but itcould prove critical to saving the Bay.

— E.G.

e Bottom of the Bay

Polychaete worms (50 species of suspension orinterface feeders)**

Suspension-feeding polychaetescreate a tube where they waituntil their long tentacle-like palpscan grasp suspended prey. Of 175species in the Bay, only 9 speciesare true suspension feeders.Another 41 species feed at theinterface of the sediment andwater, using suspension-feedingtechniques when local conditionsare right.

Barnacles (3 species)*

Attached to pilings, boats,rocks, and even otheranimals, barnacles have hardouter plates that open uponsubmersion to reveal feather-like legs called cirri, whichwhisk plankton into aninternal cavity.

Sea squirts (3 species)*

Though immobile and almostplant-like, these filter-feeding seasquirts are chordates and thusmore closely related to humansthan hydroids.They siphon waterin and filter out small particlesthrough a ciliated sac.Then theyexpel water through a secondopening, sometimes with enoughforce to make them worthy oftheir name.

Oysters (1 species)*

Still the go-to filter feeder inthe Bay, oysters can processwater at rates 2-3 times thatof other bivalves. Beating ciliadraw water over the gillswhere plankton and otherparticles are trapped inmucus and sent to themouth.

Eastern oyster (Crassostreavirginica)

Sea grape (Molgulamanhattensis)

Parchment worm(Chaetopterus variopedatus)

Barnacle (Balanus improvisus)

Grabbingmud from thebottom ofthe Patapsco,ecologist RobertoLlanso (near left)and data coor-dinator Craig Bruce(opposite page)find only asmattering ofbottom life(center). Eachyear, the Chesa-peake BayProgram takesstock of the stateof the Bay’sbottom-dwellers— inventoryingthe creaturesthat live in softsedimentcommunities.

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* Source: Chesapeake Bay Benthic Monitoring Program ** Source: Linda Schaffner

Maryland. She uses them as a biologicalindicator of pollution, a white rat of sorts,harnessing their skill for concentratingchemicals in their body tissue to revealthe source of contaminants fromupstream.The clams will stay in the pol-luted water for two weeks before they areretrieved and analyzed.The transfer car-ries no risk of invasion to the Anacostia,according to Phelps.The transplantedclams, she explains, are carefully containedin tethered cages and they can survive inthe polluted river (just barely) but won’treproduce because the sediments are tootoxic.

Rolling down the car window, Phelpspulls the Honda up to the intercom at thetakeout window of a nearby KentuckyFried Chicken and asks for some ice.Thevoice on the other end tells her to pullaround to the service door.A womansoon emerges and gestures for Greenidgeto follow her inside with the cooler bag.She reaches for it then hesitates.“What’sin the bag?” she asks.“Clams from thePotomac.We are taking them…”Greenidge starts to explain, but she cutshim off and pulls her hands back, givinghim a look that says,“Really, I don’t needto know.” Keeping her distance, thewoman scoops ice while Greenidge holdsthe open bag.The clams, now comfort-ably cool, continue on their way to theAnacostia.

Unpredictable Outcomes

There are no plans to move Corbiculaintentionally into habitats in which itcould reproduce for the sake of improvingwater quality –– despite its seeminglypositive, ecosystem-scale impacts in thePotomac.“Wherever it has alreadyexploited, yes, it is OK in its competitiveabilities in that habitat,” says RochelleSeitz, a benthic ecologist at VIMS.Corbicula, however, is still a non-nativespecies, she warns, and may behave unpre-dictably in a new environment.

On the other side of the country, inthe tidal freshwater areas of San FranciscoBay, Corbicula did cause major ecological

10 • Chesapeake Quarterly

Biologist Harriette Phelps collects the Asiatic clam, Corbicula fluminea, (top) from thePotomac River for her research. Thought to have bolstered water quality in the Potomac, the non-native clam thrives in this river. Phelps uses clams from the Potomac as biological indicators ofpollution in the Anacostia, where data technician Earl Greenidge (bottom) is preparing to transferthem.

Mussels & Clams, continued

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disturbances, according to Jim Cloern, abiologist with the U.S. Geological Survey.Unlike in the Chesapeake, algae grow inlimited supply in that estuary whereCorbicula competes for food with nativealgae-eating zooplankton.Worse yet, theclam actually eats certain zooplankton(rotifers) outright, further decreasing theirabundance in the middle level of the foodweb and reducing the food available forfish.

Another invasive clam, Corbulaamurensis, proved even more disruptivethan Corbicula in San Francisco Bay, engi-neering major ecosystem changes in thebrackish regions.“Resource managershere think about these two invasive clamsin the same way people think aboutnitrogen and phosphorus in ChesapeakeBay,” says Cloern.

Back in the Chesapeake, non-nativespecies simultaneously provoke concernand signal opportunity.The capture thisyear of a third invasive Chinese mittencrab incited much worry. But, for some, anon-native oyster inspires hope for clear-ing the Bay’s waters and bringing back acollapsed industry. Scientists, resourcemanagers, and politicians are currentlydebating the pros and cons of Crassostreaariakensis, an Asian oyster that could provea powerful filter feeder and, if it thrives,boost commercial harvests.

Introducing a non-native species is anoption that should be approached withcaution, says Cloern.“Whenever we dothese kind of biological interventions,there are always surprises,” he warns.That’s why it’s critical to take an ecosys-tem-level perspective, he says.“We arenever smart enough to predict what all ofthe consequences might be.”

Structure of Cleaner Water

The Chesapeake’s murky water needs allthe filter power it can get.The Bay hasone species of oyster, but it’s home todozens of native species of clams, mussels,worms, crustaceans, anemones, and seasquirts –– just to name a few (seeSampling Life at the Bottom of the Bay, p.8).These species are neither commercially

Until we bring backoyster reefs, the

mainstem of the Bay mayremain poorly served byfilter feeders. But whatabout upstream? Couldrestoring freshwater filterfeeders in streams helpclear the water before itever reaches the largerrivers or the mainstemBay?

Researchers arealready addressing similarquestions in the nearbyOhio and Delawarewatersheds. Could theseefforts prove useful mod-els for the Chesapeake?

On the Ohio-WestVirginia border, naturalresource managersrecently embarked on a mission to restoredegraded biological resources in one stretch ofthe Ohio River. Their approach: re-establish thefilter power of a complex assemblage of fresh-water mussels to improve water quality enoughto enable other species to come back. If theysucceed, this restoration effort will prove a hall-mark event, says Catherine Gatenby, a biologistwith the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in WhiteSulphur Springs,West Virginia.This project willtest the theory that managers can use organ-isms like filter-feeding mussels to jumpstart therestoration of a complete biological community.

Unfortunately, it took an ecological disasterto ignite this innovative call to arms. In June1999, a metal manufacturing facility in Marietta,Ohio allegedly released hazardous materialsinto the Ohio River. The spill reportedly killedan estimated 8,600 fish, 990,000 mussels, and12 million snails along one stretch of the river.

The United States and the states of Ohioand West Virginia filed suit in the U.S. DistrictCourt for injuries to natural resources underthe Comprehensive Environmental Response,Compensation and Liability Act (CERCLA) andfor violations of the Clean Water Act. The suitsettled out of court in early 2006 and thecompanies paid $2.04 million specifically tar-geted towards rebuilding freshwater mussels,fish, and snails.This provided a dedicated sourceof funds for a restoration effort.

The 1999 spill wiped out at least 20 differ-ent species of mussels, explains Gatenby, someendangered species, some not.As a group,freshwater mussels are the most imperiledfauna in North America, with 43 percent of the300 species of freshwater mussels currently indanger of extinction.The U.S. Fish and WildlifeService (USFWS) holds an obligation torestore endangered species of mussels underthe terms of the settlement, she adds.

What makes this restoration plan unique,she says, is that restoration will include the

whole community ofmussels in the assem-blage –– endangeredand not. “Before we canrestore the endangeredspecies, we have torestore the habitat,” saysGatenby. In this casethat habitat includes theentire bed of mussels.This argument enabledbiologists to convincethe trustees in the law-suit to include not onlyendangered butcommon species ofmussels in an integratedrestoration plan, adecision that Gatenbythinks will maximizeecological gain for eco-nomic investment.

How much filter power are scientists andmanagers trying to bring back to the OhioRiver? Since one mussel can filter approximatelysix gallons of water per day and roughly990,000 mussels were killed, the arithmetic ofscale implies that this 10-mile stretch of riverlost six million gallons per day of filtering capac-ity. That is a lot to bring back, but the membersof the Mussel Habitat Partnership are opti-mistic. Not only do they think that they canrestore the mussel bed but that the musselbed itself will in turn modify the environment ina way that promotes the recovery of fishspecies and other invertebrates lost in the eco-logical calamity.

Gatenby’s team from White Sulphur SpringsNational Fish Hatchery, the Ohio River IslandsNational Wildlife Refuge, and the West VirginiaDivision of Natural Resources transplanted thefirst 800 common mussels to the river in mid-May, kicking off what will be a ten-year restora-tion effort. Once the mussels get acclimatedand begin to filter in earnest, the site will bereassessed to determine whether the habitatproves suitable for reintroduction of some ofthe endangered species.

Meanwhile in Brandywine River in Pennsyl-vania, a tributary that empties into DelawareBay, Danielle Kreeger is taking a similarapproach to restoring freshwater mussels fortheir water quality services up in the non-tidalportions of the watershed. Based at the Part-nership for the Delaware Estuary and alsoDrexel University, Kreeger focuses on Unionids,the same group of freshwater mussels at thefocus of the USFWS project in the Ohio River.

These mussels were once quite common inthe Delaware watershed but their populationdropped from historic levels nearly 200 yearsago. Scientists believe that the populationdecline resulted from habitat loss, dams thatinterfered with the transport of larvae, and

Volume 6, Number 2 • 11

From Headwater to Bay

A powerful filter feeder, the marshmussel Geukensia demissa grows attachedto the root-like rhizomes of the cordgrassSpartina. In the Delaware Bay, thesemussels filter more than six times whatcurrent populations of oysters can.

Continued on p. 12Continued on p. 12

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desirable nor susceptible to disease.Andeach plays a key role in cycling nutrientsthrough the Bay’s food web. Perhaps it’stime to focus on the filter power andother benefits of these little-noticedspecies, says ecologist Danielle Kreeger.

How might managers maximizerestoration opportunities with these lesscharismatic creatures? Restoring oysterscould be the key, according to scientists,but only if they are restored as large, verti-cal reefs — and those reefs are then pro-tected from harvest. If we rebuild thethree-dimensional structure of the oysterreef, they say, and leave it alone, theseother species will come.

And they will come in mind-bogglingnumbers. In a recent study, University ofMaryland scientists William Rodney andKennedy Paynter found that restored plotsin sanctuary oyster bars held ten times asmany filter feeders as degraded, unrestoredareas.The sheer numbers of organismsproved even more impressive.The hookedmussel, an important filter feeder thatgrows in association with oysters, wasmore than 200 times more abundant inthe restored plots. Rodney and Payntercounted over 11,000 hooked mussels inthese areas, compared to just over 50 inthe unrestored areas.

At these numbers, Paynter says, thehooked mussels could be filtering evenmore water than oysters on a restored

Clear Water through Clam Culture?

Acre per acre, the most valuable farmland inVirginia is underwater. On the distant reach

of Virginia’s Eastern Shore, Cherrystone Creekhosts some 100 million hard clams, worth$65,000 per acre per year.

“There are no other legal crops in the U.S.that yield that much per acre,” says MarkLuckenbach, a biologist at the Eastern ShoreLaboratory of the Virginia Institute of MarineScience (VIMS).

Cherrystone Creek serves as a grow-outarea for Cherrystone Aqua-Farms, a commer-cial-scale clam hatchery in Cheriton,Virginia. Oftheir own accord, these bivalves would neverlive so densely packed in such a small underwa-ter area.And Luckenbach wanted to knowwhether this city of clams packs a measurableimpact on water clarity in the creek.

On the surface, the changes seem dramatic,says Luckenbach.“You can walk through Cher-rystone Creek in waist-deep water and seeyour toes in the middle of summer,” he says.“Many people will say, ‘water here hasn’t beenthis clear since my granddaddy lived here.’ ”Can clams claim credit for removing a signifi-cant amount of the phytoplankton?

Luckenbach and his colleagues at VIMS,including researchers Harry Wang and JianShen, set out to scientifically validate what theywere seeing in Cherrystone Creek. The teamstarted with a water quality model that Wang’sgroup had shown to accurately simulate thedynamics of algae abundance (primary produc-tion) in other parts of the Bay. Once they putthe necessary stats on Cherrystone Creek into

the model, the team compared algae abun-dance predicted by the computer model toamounts actually measured in the creek. Theyfound that the model overestimated theamount of phytoplankton present.The waterswere clearer than expected.

Adding in mathematical terms to simulatethe effect of clams feeding in CherrystoneCreek, the team ran the water quality modelagain. Now it accurately predicted the amountof phytoplankton actually measured in thecreek.

“No question that the clams are removing asignificant amount of the phytoplankton,” saysLuckenbach.

So why isn’t clam aquaculture a logicalanswer to the Bay’s water quality woes?Couldn’t this economic powerhouse of anindustry also prove an ecological benefit to theChesapeake’s creeks and rivers?

It’s not that simple, says Luckenbach. Likeany confined animal farming operation, aquacul-ture changes the dynamics in an ecosystem.

The caged clams take up chlorophyll andnutrients, but they also excrete a lot of nitro-gen –– in the form of ammonia, he explains.Since the clams are densely packed, that nitro-gen is highly concentrated, acting as a readyfood source for seaweed (macroalgae). In addi-tion, predator-exclusion nets cover the clambeds to protect them from rays and otherpredators.Those nets further accelerate thegrowth of seaweed, providing an inviting surfaceon which to grow.

So the waters of Cherrystone Creek might

degraded water quality. Today only one speciesof Unionid — Elliptio complanata — remainsout of at least 7 or 8 originally. These musselscan live up to 80 to 100 years. Right now, onlyold mussels are thriving in the Brandywine andKreeger has not found any younger than 30.She suspects that the system of 11 dams in thelower part of this watershed is to blame.Recruitment of larval mussels depends on fishthat serve as intermediate hosts.The fish can-not pass through these dams, which interruptsthe life history of the mussel –– a problemlikely also to be true for freshwater mussels inthe Susquehanna basin of the Chesapeakewatershed as well.

Building on the Partnership for the Dela-ware Estuary’s attempts to restore oysters andother native shellfish species in the tidal portionof the estuary, Kreeger has just launched a proj-ect to restore some of the species lost fromthe Brandywine and several adjacent streams insoutheast Pennsylvania, hypothesizing that theywould fill vacant ecological niches. Some envi-ronmental managers in the state of Pennsylva-nia have expressed interest in the potential ofthis approach for decreasing pollution, reducingtotal maximum daily loads (TMDL), she says.According to Kreeger, managers view thisapproach as another key tool for theirrestoration toolkit –– one with the potentialto improve the Delaware Bay itself by decreas-ing the load of nutrients flowing from thewatershed.

Down in the tidal portion of the estuary,she’s mainly working to boost populations ofthe ribbed mussel Geukensia demissa, whichlives in salt marshes.There it attaches to theroot-like rhizomes of the marsh grass Spartina.Beds of these mussels could play an importantrole in stabilizing shorelines subject to erosionfrom sea level rise, as well as performing theusual bivalve services such as improve waterclarity. The marshes are the “the lungs and kid-neys for the bay,” Kreeger says.“Everythingdepends on these marshes but we are losingthem to erosion.” Kreeger aims to put musseland oyster communities back in the subtidaland intertidal regions to harden the shorelinewith living reefs.

If you’re interested in building shellfish reefsand beds for ecosystem services, rather thanhistorical or commercial purposes, species likethe marsh mussel are preferable to oysters, sheasserts.“They’re great.You can spawn them,seed beds with them.You can do all of thesegreat things for water and habitat quality,” shesays.And the biggest sell, she notes –– no oneeats them and they’re not susceptible todisease.

“We are talking about restoration in theDelaware from the mouth of the bay to theheadwaters up in New York,” she says. It’sworth asking the same questions for theChesapeake, says Kreeger.

— E.G.

Headwater, continued

Mussels & Clams, continued

reef.Though no one has yet done calcula-tions that include the filtration rate of thehooked mussel, he says, the combinedimpact of the two together could be quitesignificant.

Moreover, these restored reefs attractmore than mussels and oysters, accordingto the study.The structural complexity ofa mature oyster reef provides both surfacearea for other fouling organisms –– suchas sea squirts, anemones, and barnacles ––and a spatial refuge from predation forspecies such as the insect-like amphipodsand small fish, explains Paynter.

“One could argue, then,” he says,“thatthe most important role for the oyster ismaking the structure for other animals tosettle on.”

These lesser-known species not onlyhelp clear the water, they also redirectnutrients to other parts of the food web.The abundance and diversity of specieslike amphipods, that eat the feces andpseudofeces produced by filter feeders likeoysters and mussels, creates “a huge cat-alytic flow” into other levels of the foodweb, says Paynter, sequestering nutrientsaway from the water column.

Oyster reefs also grow dynamicallyover time, like coral reefs, he says. So ifthe oysters can remain relatively disease-free, structure will beget even more struc-ture and even more surface area as oystersincrease in size and their offspring settleon top of existing shell.

Artificial reefs, a recent innovation,

might serve similar functions, according toanother recent study. ResearchersRomauld Lipcius and Russell Burke atVIMS measured how mussels and oysterscolonized an artificial concrete reef setout in the Rappahannock River. In four-and-a-half years the concrete reef, adesign not suited for conventional harvesttechniques, attracted the equivalent ofnearly 10,000 filter feeders per squaremeter of river bottom.These are amongthe highest densities ever recorded fornatural and restored oyster reefs.And thevast majority of the filter feeders weremussels, not oysters. Hooked mussels, infact, outnumbered oysters by more thaneight times.

For oyster reefs, with all their fellow

Volume 6, Number 2 • 13

now be clear, but have overall conditionsimproved? “Your answer might be different ifyou had just walked down to your beach theday before and found it piled shin-high withrotting seaweed,” says Luckenbach.Aquacultur-ists intermittently scrape the algae off the clambeds to maintain the flow of fresh water overthe clams.“Unchecked, this algae can washonto beaches where it can rot and stink,” hesays.

But macroalgae may also offer an unex-pected opportunity to reduce nutrient pollu-tion in the Bay. Scientists suspect macroalgaelocks up (sequesters) a lot of nitrogen. Sinceexcess nitrogen is generally regarded as themost significant pollutant in the Chesapeake,Luckenbach wondered if simply removing algaefrom clam nets would decrease nitrogen loadsto the Bay, helping to further improve water

quality. Could clam farmers, then, harvestmacroalgae in addition to their clams andremove even more nutrients from the Bay?

To explore this question, Luckenbachrecently launched an effort to determineexactly how much nitrogen and phosphorusare locked up in macroalgae. He’s undertakingthe study in partnership with CherrystoneAqua-Farm President Mike Pierson andJonathan Davis from Taylor Shellfish in Seattle,Washington.Although the nutrient analysis hasnot been completed, the sheer quantity ofalgae associated with the aquaculture clambeds is quite impressive, says Luckenbach. Dur-ing May of this year the team estimates thatover 150,000 pounds (wet weight) of algaegrew attached to the nets on a single clamfarm in Cherrystone Creek.

If reducing nitrogen loads in Chesapeake

Bay could be accomplished byremoving algae from clam nets,what stands in the way? Itcomes down to economics,explains Luckenbach. In someareas aquaculturists do collectalgae and remove it from thecreek, but this is a costly activity,one for which clam culturistscurrently receive no economicreturns.

Luckenbach suggests thatestablishing incentives mighthelp solidify an algae-removalpractice among clam culturists.He identifies two different mar-ket-based approaches thatmight simultaneously serve thedual goals of commercialgrowth and ecosystem restora-tion. One would involve creat-ing a market for fertilizer madefrom seaweed, thereby provid-ing an economic reason for

aquaculturists to truck this macroalgae (andtherefore nitrogen) away from the ChesapeakeBay. The other would involve a nutrient tradingprogram, where aquaculturists who did removemacroalgae from the system could earn somesort of nutrient-removal credit.These creditscould then be sold for money to other busi-nesses that might be over their pre-determinednutrient load limit.

Aquaculture programs that link ecosystemservices to the economic bottom line are still aways off. At this point, says Luckenbach, weneed to better understand what having theseagroecosystems in our landscape means to ourecology.“They might be good, they might bebad, but they are not going away.”

— E. G.

Clam culture is a lucrative business at Cherrystone Aqua-Farm(above) on Virginia’s Eastern Shore. Could bivalve culture bringanother payoff by helping to reduce nutrients in the Bay? BiologistMark Luckenbach (right) and his colleagues at the Virginia Instituteof Marine Science are trying to find out.

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“One could argue that the

most important role for

the oyster is making the

structure for other animals

to settle on.”

inhabitants, to work best, they need toremain undisturbed –– safe from dredges,tongs, and boat anchors. Biologist RogerNewell suggests that restoring oysters toimprove water quality may simply not becompatible with a wild-bottom commer-cial fishery. He predicts that in the nextten years, we’ll start to see a partial mora-torium on harvesting and more and moreoyster bars protected as sanctuaries fortheir ecosystem services — in low salinityareas especially, he asserts, where recruit-ment of larvae is poor.

The promise of ecosystem services pro-vided by oyster reef communities holdsgreat appeal back on the Magothy River.After the dark false mussels first appearedin 2004, the Magothy River Association,under the leadership of dive masterRichard Carey, mounted a large-scalecommunity science initiative to survey thesize of populations and to calculate howmuch water they could filter.Theycounted the mussels and did the math:more than 400 million mussels in onecreek (Cattail Creek) could filter all thewater in 46 hours.The dark false musselsclearly had an impact on the health oftheir river. Now that the bivalves havegone, local citizens remain convinced thatthe right filter feeder could clean up theMagothy.

“If the mussels could clean up thecreeks, a big enough biomass of some filterfeeder could clean up the whole river,”says Carey, who established the protocol

and organized teams of kayakers and diversfor the 2004 dark false mussel survey.

The Association looked at some of theother possibilities –– clams, other types ofmussels. But ultimately the group decidedthat oysters and their related communitieswould probably have the biggest impacton water quality.They also figured thatthe oysters would naturally resist diseasebecause of the low salinity in theMagothy.

In June, the Magothy River Associa-tion published an ambitious oyster restora-tion plan. Based on their calculations offiltration rate and river area, they are hop-ing to plant some 250 million oysters onstone base material. If they can get theoysters –– which won’t be easy –– theAssociation hopes to plant 25 million ayear for the next 10 years. Planning for noharvest pressure and 50 percent survivalrate for the oysters, they believe that 125million living oysters in the river will leadto a significant boost in water clarity. Evenif the oysters live just long enough toallow underwater grasses to come back,says Carey, it could make a difference.And if other organisms come along forthe ride, the restoration effort may bringeven more more filter power than theybargain for.

Gliding alongside a green wedge of lawnin Severna Park’s Magothy waterfront,Peter Bergstrom maneuvers his kayak untilhe’s lined up beside a riprapped bulkhead.

Just then, raindrops begin to fall and hepulls on a windbreaker and wipes off hisround, wire-rimmed spectacles. He turnsover a large, triangular rock and sets itgently back in place. Methodically, hereaches down and picks up another one.

There, clustered on the rock’s under-surface, clings a small cluster of dark falsemussels.Their shells are clamped tight, apotential sign of life. Bergstrom pries oneoff the rock. Quickly, its shell gapes open…empty.The mussel is dead. He didn’treally expect to find it alive, but for a sec-ond, his face flashed a brief sign of hope.Just a tease, really, but those few dead mus-sels reminded him that for a brief inter-lude in the creek’s history, the waters hadcleared, underwater grasses had comeback, and crabs had flourished. Could ithappen again?— email the author, goldman@mdsg.umd.edu

Volume 6, Number 2 • 15

Three-dimensional, vertical structure, like that offered by the restored oyster reef above,encourages so-called “fouling organisms” to settle and grow in large numbers, adding more filterpower than oysters alone can provide. For example, there’s only one oyster living on this concreteblock used as an artificial reef (opposite page), but there’s a veritable smorgasbord of sea squirts,hooked mussels, and barnacles. PHOTOGRAPH ON OPPOSITE PAGE BY KENNEDY PAYNTER.

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For More Information

Mussels and Clams

Magothy River AssociationAbout the associationwww.magothyriver.org/Who_We_Are.html

Video of the group’s dark false mussel surveywww.mdsg.umd.edu/CQ/V06N2/videos/

Bay Journal article on mussels and eels in theSusquehannawww.bayjournal.com/article.cfm?article=2854

Harriette Phelps and Corbicula flumineawww.his.com/~hphelps/

Benthic Communities

Versar and the benthic surveywww.baybenthos.versar.com/

Chesapeake Bay Program benthos pagewww.chesapeakebay.net/benthos.htm

Maryland Sea Grant video of benthiccommunitieswww.mdsg.umd.edu/CQ/V06N2/videos/

Oyster Reefs and Living Shorelines

The Paynter Labswww.life.umd.edu/biology/paynterlab/paynterweb.html

Maryland Department of Natural ResourcesShorelines projectshorelines.dnr.state.md.us/living.asp

Oyster reef restoration effortswww.chesapeakebay.net/reefrest.htm

In celebration of its 30th anniver-sary, Maryland Sea Grant will hosta performance of A Sense ofWonder, a one-woman show basedon the life and work of famedwriter and naturalist RachelCarson, who would have turned100 this year.

Carson loved the sea, and sheloved to write.A marine biologistby training, she had a penchant forexploring the coast and a knackfor explaining complex ecologicalprocesses with lyrical ease. Her ocean-related writings include Under the Sea Wind,The Sea Around Us, and The Edge of the Sea.

Though these works established herreputation, Carson is now best known forher attack on indiscriminate pesticide use inher landmark book, Silent Spring.This workcatalyzed public concern over the issueand helped to spark an environmentalmovement.

In A Sense of Wonder, Kaiulani Lee per-forms as Carson, bringing to life the writer’srelationship with the natural world and her

efforts to protect it. For over ten years theshow has played to rave reviews throughoutthe United States and abroad. John A. Hoyt,former Chief Executive of The HumaneSociety of the United States notes,“To seeand hear Kaiulani Lee is to have beentouched by Rachel Carson herself.”

Celebrating Maryland Sea Grant’s thirtyyears of service with a Rachel Carson per-formance seems a natural fit. In addition toher love of the sea, Carson had a strongconnection to the state of Maryland. Shereceived a Master of Arts in zoology from

Johns Hopkins University, wrote articles onnature for the Baltimore Sun, and spent thelater part of her life in the city of SilverSpring.

A Sense of Wonder will take place at 7pm on Friday, December 7, 2007 in theKogod Theatre at the University of Mary-land’s Clarice Smith Performing ArtsCenter.Admission is free, but seating islimited so please register in advance bye-mailing wonder@mdsg.umd.edu or call-ing 301.405.6375.

— Jessica Smits

Non-Profit Org.U.S.Postage

PAIDPermit No. 04386College Park, MD

Maryland Sea Grant College4321 Hartwick Road, Suite 300University System of MarylandCollege Park, Maryland 20740

Address Service Requested

Send us your comments — visit Chesapeake Quarterly Online at www.mdsg.umd.edu/CQ

Chesapeake Quarterly is printed on recycled paper, processedchlorine free, with soy-based inks

Performance Honors RachelCarson’s Life and Work

Take Our Reader SurveyFor five years,ChesapeakeQuarterly hasexplored press-ing issues facingthe Bay and itswatershed.

Now we wantto hear from you.What topics would youlike us to write about? How do you usethe magazine? Whether you’re a longtimeor new reader, your answers will help uscover what you care about.

Please take a 5-minute online surveyat www.mdsg.umd.edu/CQ/survey.

For more information or to request apaper copy of the survey, contact theprogram office at 301.405.6376.Rachel Carson at work and Kaiulani Lee, who portrays

her in a one-woman show about the scientist and writer.

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