Moon Coastal Carolinas

by Jim Morekis

  Aquifers

  Unlike parts of the western U.S., where individuals can enforce private property rights to water, the South has generally held that the region’s water is a publicly held resource. The upside of this is that everybody has equal claim to drinking water without regard to status or income or how long they’ve lived there. The downside is that industry also has the same free claim to the water that citizens do—and they use a heck of a lot more of it.

  Currently at least half of the population of North and South Carolina gets its water from aquifers, which are basically huge underground caverns made of limestone. Receiving groundwater drip by drip, century after century, from rainfall farther inland, the aquifers essentially act as massive, sterile warehouses for freshwater, accessible through wells.

  The aquifers have human benefit only if their water remains fresh. Once saltwater from the ocean begins intruding into an aquifer, it doesn’t take much to render all of it unfit for human consumption—forever. What keeps that freshwater fresh is natural water pressure, keeping the ocean at bay.

  But nearly a century ago, paper mills began pumping millions and millions of gallons of water out of coastal aquifers. Combined with the dramatic rise in coastal residential development, that has decreased the natural water pressure of the aquifers, leading to measurable saltwater intrusion at several points under the coast.

  Currently, local and state governments in both states are increasing their reliance on surfacewater (i.e., treated water from rivers and creeks) to relieve the strain on the underground aquifer system. But it’s too soon to tell if that has contained the threat from saltwater intrusion.

  Nuclear Energy

  South Carolina has four nuclear power plants, though none on the coast, in the Greenville, Hartsville, and Jenkinsville areas, and in York County. The massive, Cold War-era nuclear bomb plant Savannah River Site is near Aiken, well inland.

  North Carolina has three nuclear power plants: one in Brunswick County near the coast, one near Charlotte well inland, and one near Raleigh in the middle of the state.

  Air Pollution

  Despite growing awareness of the issue, air pollution is still a big problem in the coastal region. Paper mills still operate, putting out their distinctive rotten-eggs odor, and auto emissions standards are notoriously lax in South Carolina. The biggest culprit, though, are coal-powered electric plants, which are the norm throughout the region and which continue to pour large amounts of toxins into the atmosphere.

  Plants and Animals

  PLANTS

  The most iconic plant life of the coastal region is the Southern live oak (Quercus virginiana). Named because of its evergreen nature, a live oak is technically any one of a number of evergreens in the Quercus genus, many of which reside in the Carolinas, but in local practice almost always refers to the Southern live oak. Capable of living over 1,000 years and possessing wood of legendary resilience, the Southern live oak is one of nature’s most magnificent creations. Though the timber value of live oaks has been well known since the earliest days of the American shipbuilding industry—when the oak dominated the entire coast inland of the marsh—their value as a canopy tree has finally been widely recognized by local and state governments as well.

  Fittingly, the other iconic plant life of the coastal region grows on the branches of the live oak. Contrary to popular opinion, Spanish moss (Tillandsia usnesides) is neither Spanish nor moss. It’s an air plant, a wholly indigenous cousin to the pineapple. Also contrary to folklore, Spanish moss is not a parasite nor does it harbor parasites while living on an oak tree—though it can after it has already fallen to the ground.

  Also growing on the bark of a live oak, especially right after a rain shower, is the resurrection fern (Polypodium polypodioides), which can stay dormant for amazingly long periods of time, only to spring back to life with the introduction of a little water. You can find live oak, Spanish moss, and resurrection fern anywhere in the maritime forest ecosystem of the coastal Carolinas, a zone generally behind the interdune meadows, which is itself right behind the beach zone.

  Far and away the region’s most important commercial tree is the pine, used for paper, lumber, and turpentine. Rarely seen in the wild today due to tree farming, the dominant species is now the slash pine (Pinus elliottii), often seen in long rows on either side of rural highways. Before the introduction of large-scale monoculture tree farming, however, a rich variety of native pines flourished in the upland forest inland from the maritime forest, chief among them the longleaf (Pinus palustris) and loblolly (Pinus taeda) pines. Longleaf forest covered nearly 100 million acres of the Southeast Coastal Plain upon the arrival of the Europeans; within 300 years most of it would be cut down and/or harvested.

  Right up there with live oaks and Spanish moss in terms of instant recognition would have to be the colorful, ubiquitous azalea, a flowering shrub of the Rhododendron genus. Over 10,000 varieties have been cultivated through the centuries, with quite a wide range of them on display during blooming season, March-April. The area’s other great floral display comes from the camellia (Camellia japonica), a large, cold-hardy evergreen shrub with flowers that generally bloom in late winter (January-March). An import from Asia, the southeastern coast’s camellias are close cousins to Camellia sinensis, from which tea is made (and also an import).

  Other colorful ornamentals of the area include the ancient and beautiful Southern magnolia (Magnolia grandiflora), a native plant with distinctive large white flowers (evolved before the advent of bees); and the flowering dogwood (Cornus florida), which despite its very hard wood—great for daggers, hence its original name “dagwood”—is actually quite fragile. An ornamental imported from Asia that has now become quite obnoxious in its aggressive invasiveness is the mimosa (Albrizia julibrissin), which blooms March-August.

  Moving into watery areas, you’ll find the remarkable bald cypress (Taxodium distichum), a flood-resistant conifer recognizable by its tufted top, its great height (up to 130 feet), and its distinctive “knees,” parts of the root that project above the waterline and which are believed to help stabilize the tree in lowland areas. Much prized for its beautiful, pest-resistant wood, great stands of ancient cypress once dominated the marsh along the coast; sadly, overharvesting and destruction of wetlands has made the magnificent sight of this ancient, dignified species much less common.

  Probably the most unique plant on the coast of the Carolinas—for a variety of reasons—is the Venus flytrap (Dionaea muscipula). This fascinating carnivorous species grows only in the bogs of the coastal Carolinas, generally within about a hundred-mile radius of Wilmington, North Carolina. Easily accessible areas where you can find Venus flytraps in the wild include Green Swamp Preserve in Brunswick County and Carolina Beach State Park south of Wilmington.

  The acres of smooth cordgrass that comprise the coastal marsh are plants of the Spartina alternaflora species. (A cultivated cousin, Spartina anglica, is considered invasive.) Besides its simple natural beauty, Spartina is also a key food source for marsh denizens. Playing a key environmental role on the coast are sea oats (Uniola paniculata). This wispy, fast-growing perennial grass anchors sand dunes and hence is a protected species (it’s a misdemeanor to pick them).

  South Carolina isn’t called the “Palmetto State” for nothing. Though palm varieties are not as common up here as in Florida, you’ll definitely encounter several types along the coast. The cabbage palm (Sabal palmetto), for which South Carolina is named, is the largest variety, up to 50-60 feet tall. Its “heart of palm” is an edible delicacy, which coastal Native Americans boiled in bear fat as porridge. In dunes and sandhills you’ll find clumps of the low-lying saw palmetto (Serenoa repens). The bush palmetto (Sabal minor) has distinctive fan-shaped branches. The common Spanish bayonet (Yucca aloifolia) looks like a palm, but it’s actually a member of the agave family.

  ANIMALS

  On Land

  Perhaps the most iconic land animal—or semi-land animal, anyway—of
the Carolina coast is the legendary American alligator (Alligator mississippiensis), the only species of crocodile native to the area. Contrary to their fierce reputation, locals know these massive reptiles, 6-12 feet long as adults, to be quite shy.

  If you come in the colder months you won’t see one at all, since alligators require an outdoor temperature over 70°F to become active and feed. (Indeed, the appearance of alligators was once a well-known symbol of spring in the area.) Often all you’ll see is a couple of eyebrow ridges sticking out of the water, and a gator lying still in a shallow creek can easily be mistaken for a floating log. But should you see one or more gators basking in the sun—a favorite activity on warm days for these cold-blooded creatures—it’s best to admire them from afar. A mother alligator, in particular, will destroy anything that comes near her nest. Despite the alligator’s short, stubby legs, they run amazingly fast on land—faster than you, in fact.

  If you’re driving on a country road at night, be on the lookout for white-tailed deer (Odeocoileus virginianus), which, besides being quite beautiful, also pose a serious road hazard. Because development has dramatically reduced the habitat—and therefore the numbers—of their natural predators, deer are plentiful throughout the area and, as you read this, are hard at work devouring vast tracts of valuable vegetation. No one wants to hurt poor little Bambi, but the truth is that area hunters perform a valuable service by culling the local deer population, which is in no danger of extinction anytime soon—far from it.

  North and South Carolina host large populations of playful river otter (Lutra Canadensis). Not to be confused with the larger sea otters off the West Coast, these fast-swimming members of the weasel family inhabit inland waterways and marshy areas, with dominant males sometimes ranging as much as 50 miles within a single waterway. As strict carnivores, usually of fish, otters are a key indicator of the health of their ecosystem. If they’re thriving, water and habitat quality is likely to be pretty high. If they’re not, something’s going badly wrong.

  While you’re unlikely to encounter an otter, if you’re camping you might easily run into the raccoon (Procyon lotor), an exceedingly intelligent and crafty relative of the bear, sharing that larger animal’s resourcefulness in stealing your food. Though nocturnal, raccoons will feed whenever food is available. Raccoons can grow so accustomed to the human presence as to almost consider themselves part of the family, but resist the temptation to get close to them. Rabies is prevalent in the raccoon population and you should always, always keep your distance.

  Another common campsite nuisance, the opossum (Didelphis virginiana) is a shy, primitive creature that is much more easily discouraged. North America’s only marsupial, a ‘possum’s usual “defense” against predators is to play dead. That said, however, they have an immunity to snake venom and often feed on the reptiles, even the most poisonous ones.

  Opossums are native to the area, but another similarly slow-witted, slow-moving creature is not: the nine-banded armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus). In centuries past, these armor-plated insect-eaters were mostly confined to Mexico, but they are gradually working their way northward. Obsessive diggers, armadillos cause quite a bit of damage to crops and gardens. Sometimes jokingly called “’possum on the half shell,” armadillo, like opossum, are frequent roadkill on Carolina highways.

  While you’re highly unlikely to actually see a red fox (Vulpes vulpes), you might very well see their distinctive footprints in the mud of a marsh at low tide. These nocturnal hunters, a non-native species introduced by European settlers, range the coast seeking mice, squirrels, and rabbits.

  Once fairly common in the Carolinas, the black bear (Ursus americanus) has suffered from hunting and habitat destruction and is extremely rare in the region.

  In the Water

  Humankind’s aquatic cousin, the Atlantic bottle-nosed dolphin (Ursiops truncates), is a well-known and frequent visitor to the coast, coming far upstream into creeks and rivers to feed. Children, adults, and experienced seamen alike all delight in encounters with the mammals, sociable creatures who travel in family units. When not occupied with feeding or mating activities—both of which can get surprisingly rowdy—dolphins show great curiosity about human visitors to their habitat. They will gather near boats, surfacing often with the distinctive chuffing sound of air coming from their blowholes. Occasionally they’ll even lift their heads out of the water to have a look at you; consider yourself lucky indeed to have such a close encounter. Don’t be fooled by their cuteness, however. Dolphins live life with gusto and aren’t scared of much. They’re voracious eaters of fish, amorous and energetic lovers, and will take on an encroaching shark in a heartbeat.

  Another beloved part-time marine creature of the barrier islands of the coast is the loggerhead turtle (Caretta caretta), which is South Carolina’s state reptile. Though the species prefers to stay well offshore the rest of the year, females weighing up to 300 pounds come out of the sea each May-July to dig a shallow hole in the dunes and lay over 100 leathery eggs, returning to the ocean and leaving the eggs to hatch on their own after two months. Interestingly, the mothers prefer to nest at the same spot on the same island year after year. After hatching, the baby turtles then make a dramatic, extremely dangerous (and extremely slow trek) to the safety of the waves, at the mercy of various predators.

  A series of dedicated research and conservation efforts are working hard to protect the loggerheads’ traditional nursery grounds to ensure the survival of this fascinating, loveable, and threatened species. Cape Island within the Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge accounts for about a quarter of all loggerhead nests in South Carolina, and is the leading nesting site north of Florida. Other key sites in South Carolina include Kiawah, Edisto, and Hilton Head Islands. Though their numbers are lower in the Tarheel State, the loggerheads do like to nest along the entire length of the coast, especially near Cape Hatteras.

  Of course the coastal waters and rivers are chock-a-block with fish. The most abundant and sought-after recreational species in the area is the spotted sea trout (Cynoscion nebulosus), followed by the red drum (Suaenops ocellatus). Local anglers also pursue many varieties of bass, bream, sheepshead, and crappie. It may sound strange to some accustomed to considering it a “trash” fish, but many types of catfish are not only plentiful here but are a common and well-regarded food source. Many species of flounder inhabit the silty bottoms of estuaries all along the coast. Farther offshore are game and sportfish like marlin, swordfish, shark, grouper, and tuna.

  Each March, anglers jockey for position on coastal rivers for the yearly running of the American shad (Alosa sapidissima) upstream to spawn. This large (up to eight pounds), catfish-like species is a regional delicacy as a seasonal entrée, as well as for its tasty roe. There’s a limit of eight shad per person per season.

  One of the more interesting fish species in the area is the endangered shortnose sturgeon (Acipenser brevirostrum). A fantastically ancient species that has evolved little in hundreds of millions of years, this small, freshwater fish is known to exist in the estuaries of the ACE Basin. Traveling upriver to spawn in the winter, the sturgeons remain around the mouths of waterways the rest of the year, venturing near the ocean only sparingly.

  Crustaceans and shellfish have been a key food staple in the area for thousands of years, with the massive shell middens of the coast being testament to Native Americans’ healthy appetite for them. The beds of the local variant, the eastern oyster (Crassostrea virginica), aren’t what they used to be due to overharvesting, water pollution, and disruption of habitat. In truth, most local restaurants import the little filter-feeders from the Gulf of Mexico these days. Oysters spawn May-August, hence the old folk wisdom about eating oysters only in months with the letter “r,” so as not to disrupt the breeding cycle.

  Each year April-January, shrimp boats up and down the southeastern coast trawl for shrimp, most commercially viable in two local species, the white shrimp (Penaeus setiferus), and the brown shrimp (
Penaeus aztecus). Shrimp are the most popular seafood item in the United States and account for hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue in the coastal economy. While consumption won’t slow down anytime soon, the Carolina shrimping industry is facing serious threats, both from species decline due to pollution and overfishing and from competition from shrimp farms and the Asian shrimp industry.

  Another important commercial crop is the blue crab (Callinected sapidus), the species used in such Lowcountry delicacies as crab cakes. You’ll often see floating markers bobbing up and down in rivers throughout the region. These signal the presence directly below of a crab trap, often of an amateur crabber.

  A true living link to primordial times, the alien-looking horseshoe crab (Limulus polyphemus), is frequently found on beaches of the coast during the spring mating season (it lives in deeper water the rest of the year). More closely related to scorpions and spiders than crabs, the horseshoe has evolved hardly a lick in hundreds of millions of years.

  Any trip to a local salt marsh at low tide will likely uncover hundreds of fiddler crabs (Uca pugilator and Uca pugnax), so-named for the way the males wave their single enlarged claws in the air to attract mates. (Their other, smaller claw is the one they actually eat with.) The fiddlers make distinctive burrows in the pluff mud for sanctuary during high tide, recognizable by the little balls of sediment at the entrances (the crabs spit out the balls after sifting through the sand for food).

  One charming beach inhabitant, the sand dollar (Mellita quinquiesperforata), has seen its numbers decline drastically due to being entirely too charming for its own good. Beachcombers are now asked to enjoy these flat little cousins to the sea urchin in their natural habitat and to refrain from taking them home. Besides, they start to smell bad when they dry out.