


A Natural History of Conewago Falls—The Waters of Three Mile Island


In the Northern Hemisphere, the autumnal equinox marks the end of astronomical summer, the instant when the sun’s path, the ecliptic, crosses the celestial equator and enters southern skies. The days that occasion both the spring and the fall equinoxes are renowned for their equal periods of both daytime and night—12 hours each.
In the six months since last spring’s equinox in March, the period of daylight at latitudes to our north has been longer each day than those same periods at latitudes to our south. Many breeding birds have found improved success by taking advantage of these prolonged intervals of sunshine to nest. Extended daylight gives them a lengthened opportunity to collect for their nestlings the plentiful food produced by the prolonged hours of solar exposure provided during the growing season. This enhanced feeding regime shortens the length of time vulnerable young must spend in the nest before fledging. Long northern days can provide significant survival advantage for these birds that migrate to breed.
During the thousands of years since the retreat of the most recent North American glaciers, the birds we call Neotropical migrants have developed migration patterns to take full advantage of this phenomenon. As various ecosystems have edged their way north with the moderating climate, these birds have, with each successive generation, followed. They leave their tropical wintering grounds each spring to work their way north to find favorable habitats for efficient reproduction. Natural selection has given them specialized capabilities for recognizing when it’s time to move and how to find their way. In large part, we’re just beginning to understand some of these fascinating capabilities.

Today’s autumnal equinox is the moment of change. For the coming six months, the period of daylight at latitudes to our south will be longer each day than those same periods at latitudes to our north. Neotropical migrants are fully aware of this change, and these survivors of the ages have already mobilized.


In the next week or two, most of the Neotropical migrants still to our north will pass us by. On a quiet night, you may hear their “chip” notes as they communicate with one another while flying overhead. In the mornings, a visit to a forest, a woodland edge, or a successional field may provide a chance for a good look at a migrant “fallout”.

Nocturnal migrants have acquired this nighttime flight behavior in large part to successfully escape the threat of predation. There are, however, some diurnal Neotropical travelers. These day trippers include birds possessing exceptional speed and maneuverability such as hummingbirds, swifts, and swallows, the latter two engaging in flocking behavior to further reduce the chances of becoming a raptor’s lunch.
During recent days, the bird that may be our most conspicuous daytime Neotropical migrant—the Broad-winged Hawk—has been putting on a show as it passes through the region. Itself a raptor, it has little to fear while flying in the daytime. In fact, thermal updrafts generated by solar heating under bright sunlight are the key to its energy-saving method of covering as many as 200 miles per day while migrating.









Hawk migration and the movements of other sub-tropical and temperate bird species will continue throughout the fall. To find regional hawk-counting stations and to learn how to identify our local species, visit our “Hawkwatcher’s Helper: Identifying Bald Eagles and other Diurnal Raptors” page by clicking the tab at the top of this page.
During the past week, we’ve been on a road trip seeking to score a hat trick—records of three particular species of flying creatures best found in our vicinity on the Atlantic Coastal Plain of the Delmarva Peninsula. Our excursion led us to the seaside environs of Cape Henlopen State Park at the mouth of Delaware Bay.
So just what were these three species we so eagerly sought?
Were they the three gulls we found scavenging the beaches and marshes for the remains of some expired mollusk, crustacean, or fish?



Always fun to watch, but no, they weren’t the reason for our visit.
How about the four heron and egret species observed in the tidal marsh and at the park’s Gordon’s Pond; that’s even better than a hat trick, right?




Not bad, but nope, it wasn’t the herons and egrets.
Well, then it must be the shorebirds; yeah, it has got to be the shorebirds?

Very nice, but it wasn’t the shorebirds either.
What about the three appearances of the Clapper Rail in the tidal marsh?

Now we’re reaching. No, it wasn’t the Clapper Rail’s numerous appearances.
The term “hat trick” has its origins in the game of cricket. A hurler upon retiring three batsmen with three consecutive balls was gifted a new hat. The three species we were seeking are, coincidentally, related to the insects called crickets. Our true goal was to track down the three species of annual cicadas known to emerge, sing, and breed during the late summer on the Atlantic Coastal Plain. None of these species are known to breed in the lower Susquehanna valley, but all are potential vagrants. We were quite fortunate to find all three singing in the vicinity of our temporary susquehannawildlife.net headquarters. During our numerous forays in the area, we were able to make sound recordings of each, and obtained photographs of two. It was an audio hat trick of sorts.
The Northern Dusk-singing Cicada (Megatibicen grossus), a species of southern oak forests…
The Coastal Scissor Grinder (Neotibicen latifasciatus), a species of subclimax maritime forests…

Davis’ Southeastern Dog-day Cicada (Neotibicen davisi), a species of long-needle pine forests…

To learn more about these and other regional cicadas, be certain to visit our cicadas page by clicking the “Cicadas” tab at the top of this page. Once there, you’ll now find sound recordings of thirteen species of periodical and annual cicadas regularly found in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed or adjacent portions of the Atlantic Coastal Plain including Delmarva. Take a listen.

It looks irresistible—doesn’t it? To members of the gasoline and gunpowder gang and for exuberant youthful wannabes, this puddle alongside a forest road has “let’s go muddin'” written all over it. It’s an opportunity to rev ‘er up and slash on through to lay waste to those placid waters while draping the car, truck, cycle, or ATV with gobs of soggy slop. It’s an act of spectacular courage that afterward deserves a lap among one’s peers to display the cakes of dried muck worn as decorations of honor.








Knowing what you now know, how could you ever go crashing through a rain pool again? You wouldn’t want to leave your mother worrying that she raised an eternally adolescent jackass, would you? Or worse yet, a sociopath? After all, you’d never drive up on a sidewalk full of puppies, would you?




Uncle Tyler Dyer wants to know, “What happened to all the butterflies. Man, I’m worried. I’m seeing just one or two of the common species, but not in anywhere near the numbers we usually see by this time of year.” His question is a rhetorical one. He understands the contributing factors that have conspired to diminish, fragment, and even eliminate populations of butterflies and other insects throughout much of the lower Susquehanna valley.
Here at susquehannawildlife.net headquarters, we’ve observed but four or five species this year, and only several individuals of each. Despite our efforts to devote every square inch of available space in our gardens and pools to plants that benefit butterflies and other insects, we can only do so much. Much like other areas of the region, our compact parcel is surrounded by more and more pavement, manicured lawn, and properties planted with commercially produced ornamentals cultivated to look good, grow fast, and not attract “insect pests”. To butterflies, the land beyond our little border is a desert.
Among human habitations where there may sometimes be an effort to provide nectar for pollinators including adult butterflies, the surrounding landscape still remains largely composed mostly of asphalt, cement, mowed turf, and tanbark-covered ground that offers few if any host plants for butterfly eggs and caterpillars, and no winter cover for our resident species. In the farmlands, herbicide-tolerant crops treated with systemic insecticides are grown on ground sterilized against the emergence of any potential butterfly host species—no mustards, milkweeds, native grasses, violets, or indigenous legumes. Just look at that barren ag ground in January, no butterfly survives there.
Application of herbicides and insecticides is more widespread than you might think. Few plots of ground in proximity to human activity experience a year without use of at least one dose of a pesticide. Along the highway, in the field, on the lawn, in the trees, across the forest, in the soil, on the water, around the garden, about the house—it’s pure poison to insects and/or their host plants and they don’t survive it.


Here at susquehannawildlife.net headquarters, our most common butterfly this summer has been the Monarch. Considering the numeric loses this species has experienced in recent years, its good news for the Monarchs but not so great news for the butterflies we typically see in good numbers and have not.
While their wintering habitat in Mexico faces potentially catastrophic loses due to clandestine logging and other criminal activity, Monarchs do have an advantage once they come north to breed. While other butterflies mate and deposit eggs close to where they themselves were hatched and completed their metamorphosis into adults, each in the succession of each year’s several generations of Monarchs will roam widely in search of suitable stands of milkweed upon which they can lay their eggs.

Other than in the few scattered places where habitat is managed for them, butterflies and other insects don’t fare well in proximity to human activity. This is especially true in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed where an already neat and tidy culture has become obsessed with a cleared landscape and thus compulsively sprays, mows, whacks, and cuts away at the habitat critical to the survival of hundreds, maybe thousands, of species of these indispensable invertebrates. Take a walk or a drive and look around. Other than a hanging basket of flowers that may or may not have been treated with poisonous neonicotinoids, there’s no place for a butterfly, let alone its progeny, to survive. Just listen…that motorized, grinding racket outside is the sound of butterfly habitat being destroyed, April through November, day after day, year after year.
As for Uncle Ty, he’s putting in a little more effort. Scattered sanctuaries for butterflies aren’t going to save them from the wholesale fragmentation of their habitat that has been intensifying in recent years. Less than 1% of landowners actually rewild property or manage at the ecosystem level, so more must get involved. Uncle Ty asked us to pass along this guide to Butterfly Habitat Management from the United States Department of Agriculture’s Natural Resources Conservation Service. He’s used tips from the publication for years and highly recommends the list of host plants it includes.


Today, after a wait of about a month, we finally began hearing the belated trills, whines, and rattles of notable numbers of annual cicadas. During the day’s excursions, we identified the songs of each of the five species commonly encountered in the lower Susquehanna valley, but were especially surprised to photograph and make a sound recording of something we had previously failed to observe well enough to identify in detail.






Little do these raptors know that coming years may not prove so ideal for their reproduction here or elsewhere along this stretch of the Susquehanna. Within recent weeks, Northern Snakeheads, the dastardly demons that are decimating fisheries in the lower-most reaches of the river and its tributaries in Maryland, were reported in the Paxton Creek watershed in Pennsylvania—both at Wildwood Lake in Harrisburg and upstream in the impoundment at Susquehanna Township’s Boyd Park. The specimen at Boyd Park was caught by an angler on May 29th and destroyed. Upon being notified, biologists from the Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission (PF&BC) electrofished the lake on June 2nd and found no further evidence of non-native Northern Snakeheads there. Downstream at Wildwood Lake, county park staff reported sightings of a snakehead in the shallow waters of a flooded segment of the ruins of the Pennsylvania Canal on July 15th. The electrofishing crew from the PF&BC surveyed the area on the 17th and found no snakeheads. These reports follow an event in mid-October of 2023 when an angler caught a Northern Snakehead on the west side of the Susquehanna in an impoundment at Grantham Park on Trout Run, a tributary of the Yellow Breeches Creek. The angler, unfamiliar with snakehead identification, released the fish. After it was reported to PF&BC representatives, they and staff from Upper Allen Township, owners of the park, implemented “rapid response measures” to control the invasive pests.

This news doesn’t mean the gig is up. Anglers should learn to identify Northern Snakeheads (see our “Fishes” page) and are required to dispatch them upon capture. It remains illegal to transport or possess live snakeheads. It is also forbidden to release/stock snakeheads or any other fish into Commonwealth waters without permission from the PF&BC.

Want to have a peek at the final phase of a conservation and pollution mitigation project that is restoring more than a mile of impaired stream and floodplain? Well, you’re in luck.
Legacy sediments, those nasty nutrient-loaded soils that accumulated as runoff behind the hundreds of man-made dams in the lower Susquehanna valley, are currently being removed from a segment of the Conewago Creek (east) along the border between Dauphin and Lancaster Counties. Work is presently underway just upstream of PA Route 230 adjacent to the trailhead for the Lancaster County Parks Conewago Recreation Trail. Much of this multi-stage project is located on Lancaster Conservancy property. We donned our safety vests and checked it out from roadside.








No, this is not an account chronicling a British invasion, especially during the month we celebrate the country’s 250th anniversary of its separation from commonwealth rule. This is instead a short introduction to some of the numerous regional insects of the order Coleoptera.
Globally, there are somewhere between 300,000 and 2 million or more species of beetles, depending on who’s doing the enumerating. A commonly settled upon number is 400,000, which makes beetles account for about 40% of the known insect species and 25% of the animals in the world. In the United States, there are almost 30,000 species.
Morphological variation among individuals in a population of beetles is easily observed. These differences often manifest into adaptations that provide a survival advantage and speciation. It therefore comes as no surprise that beetles were among the life forms studied by Charles Darwin as he pondered natural selection and preparation of The Origin of Species.

If it’s organic, living or dead, a beetle has probably become specially adapted to fill the role of reducing it or consuming it. Beetles are indispensable members of the ecosystems they inhabit. Many function as scavengers, breaking down dead plants or animals into the basic nutrients that renew life. There are those that consume rotting wood, dung, and carrion. Sometimes they eat these things when people would rather they didn’t—such as moist wood that’s part of a house. Then there are species of beetles that are herbivores, consuming parts of the plants that get their energy directly from the sun. There are beetles that eat stems, roots, leaves, buds, flowers, nectar, sap, seeds, and fruit—many specializing in particular plant species or families. Some of these herbivorous primary consumers come to our attention because their populations explode in response to our creation of monocultures of their favored food, but many more act as pollinators for plants critical to human survival. Linnaean Society treasurer Rathvon made these herbivore-plant relationships the focus of many of his nineteenth-century writings, particularly as they affected agriculture. On the upper trophic levels, there are the predatory beetles that feed on herbivores or other carnivores. Many of these species have narrowed their choice of prey to one or fewer species. For example, there is a beetle that feeds only on the subterranean nymphs of cicadas.

Ladies and gentlemen, the beetles…

















Uncle Tyler Dyer is a bit of a numismatic. He’s not invested in anything particularly valuable, but he enjoys filling books with examples of each year’s newly minted specie. Earlier this month, he was perusing his fifty-year-old collection of coins from the bicentennial year of 1976, as well as his book of state and other commemorative quarters issued earlier this century, when he realized he hadn’t acquired a set of semiquincentennial metal. After visiting a local dealer, he stopped by to show us the latest additions to his albums. We found this five-cent piece to be particularly interesting…

Uncle Ty said he had never before come across a coin that was so well balanced—it’s ideal for tossing. He purchased some extras to share and told us they’re great to carry around in case you’re ever wondering whether or not you’re keeping sufficient distance between yourself and the wildlife you encounter. Just give the coin a tumble skyward and heads or tails, it always yields sound guidance. And that’s no pile of buffalo chips!





If sprinkles of pepper are the only black specks you care to find in your potato salad, and if the only thing you want in your pants is you, then having a swarm of ants visit your outdoor feast is out of the question. During our recent multi-day foray afield, ants were just a cupcake’s throw away, but none dared to scurry out from their hiding place to invade our spread. Fortunately for us, the local anteater was on duty, snatching them up whenever they came into sight—and sometimes before.










The gasoline and gunpowder gang’s biggest holiday of the year is once again upon us, so we’ll take this opportunity to pass along the same advice we offered last year…
“This Independence Day weekend, don’t let the celebration turn to tragedy. Keep a garden hose or fire extinguisher at the ready to dowse any hot embers or other potential troublemakers. Fill a bucket with water for use as a trash receptacle for your hot sparkler rods and other pyrotechnic waste. Have non-combustible lids or covers handy to smother any flare ups while you’re grilling. Don’t forget, they’ll be plenty of testosterone and adrenaline circulating to keep the festivities exciting, so skip the alcohol and energy drinks if you’re driving or lighting off fireworks; things don’t need to be any more explosive. And remember, the anthem’s lyrics say, “…the rockets red glare, bombs bursting in air…”, not burning your neighbor’s garage down, so maintain a safe distance with your grills, camp fires, and July 4th displays, won’t you please?”
Perhaps you don’t consider yourself part of the gasoline and gunpowder subculture and think yourself immune from the threat of fire this weekend. Well, think again. The period coinciding with the Independence Day observance during 2026 has the potential to see more fires started by BOMBs (Battery Operated Motorized Bikes) and other lithium-ion powered conveyances, tools, and electronics than ever before. The popularity of these fast-charging devices has placed them in almost every home and workplace in the region. As more and more of them come into daily use, the frequency of battery failures resulting in sometimes catastrophic fires is escalating.

Recharging lithium-ion powered bikes and other devices inside of occupied buildings (or garages and sheds attached to occupied buildings) is risky business. Never charge or store an e-bike in a doorway, stairway, hallway, or other egress route within a structure. When not in use, consider keeping and re-energizing these conveyances in buildings or designated places detached from occupied spaces, preferably in non-combustible surroundings. The London Fire Brigade offers these helpful tips for charging e-bikes and e-scooters.

The United States Fire Administration provides these quick tips to improve safety when using lithium-ion powered devices…




Remember: while you’re recharging them, treat lithium-ion powered electronics like food on the stove—never sleep or leave them unattended.
Be safe and have a memorable weekend!
Balmy evenings and rising stream temperatures are yielding some sizeable flights of mayflies collectively known as sulfurs. These nuptial displays are most conspicuous as swarms attracted to bright lights near the waterways where the aquatic nymphs spent the past year or more before emerging to take wing for their brief period of adulthood. During the past two nights here at susquehannawildlife.net headquarters, we’ve noted what appear to be three different species of these tiny sulfurs gathering on the walls and doors below entry lamps. Each is referred to by anglers using the common name “Pale Evening Dun”.






What better way to pass a bright, sunny afternoon than to beat the heat by loafing atop a bridge spanning a small coldwater stream? We just lingered in the shade cast by an overarching tree and watched to see what might come by…










Greenwood Furnace State Park and East Branch Standing Stone Creek are located within Rothrock State Forest in northeastern Huntingdon County, Pennsylvania—just over Stone Mountain north of Belleville and the Kishacoquillas Valley on PA Route 305. To identify fish and other aquatic life in clear waters, you’ll need only a pair of close-focus binoculars or a camera with a telephoto lens. Polarized sunglasses really help penetrate the surface glare and shimmer, particularly on breezy days, making them a great fishwatching accessory for spotting your subjects of study.


Month-by-month and week-by-week changes in water temperatures and other stream parameters trigger the date-specific emergence of flights of particular species of mayflies from the lotic waters where they spend a year or more feeding and growing as substrate-dwelling nymphs. For each individual mayfly, these nuptial flights are only days in duration and include a molt from the sub-adult (subimago or dun) stage to the adult (imago or spinner) stage. Mayflies do not feed during these flights, their sole intention is to mate and reproduce. Conspicuous transitions of large numbers of nymphal mayflies into flying sub-adults are often referred to as “hatches”. So, what’s hatching right now? As local streams reach the upper sixties and seventies, we’ve noticed this mayfly gathering on walls and windows illuminated by man-made light, sometimes a half mile distant from the waterway where they spent the past year or more as a nymph before first taking flight…



Throughout the lower Susquehanna basin, four commonly encountered Lepomis sunfishes are gathering in the shallows of lakes and ponds and in the pools of the regions streams and rivers to spawn. As water temperatures surge into the upper sixties and seventies, you’ll see them from the shoreline as the colorful male sunfish clears a nest depression to attract and court one or more egg-laying females. After the eggs are laid and fertilized, the male relentlessly guards the nest against trespassers, which can include other males protecting their scrapes located just a few feet away. A colony of nesting sunfish can include multiple species—hybridization does occur.
So grab a pair of close-focusing binoculars or a camera and go take a look. Because they generally thrive in clean, warmwater streams, you might be able to find all four of these Lepomis sunfishes in the waters near you.



As they travel between coastal wintering ranges and breeding territories in Canada and Alaska, vast numbers of shorebirds pass through the lower Susquehanna region each spring and fall—though few stop here to rest, feed, and provide us with an opportunity to observe them. Prior to the construction of man-made dams and other alterations on our lotic (flowing) waterways including the river, shorebirds took advantage of lateral bars, stream deltas, and other alluvial deposits as places to loaf and re-energize. Before they were drained and filled, some of the valley’s wetlands probably included sparsely vegetated flats where shorebirds could drop in for a brief visit. Previous to their extirpation from our region, North American Beavers were the primary providers of quality habitat for shorebirds and other migrating waders on our lotic waters. Their widespread network of dams, pools, and marshes maximized floodplain function by keeping streams thoroughly connected to their wetlands, nurturing plant communities that not only provided food and shelter for the beavers and other wildlife, but provided superb buffering against erosion while protecting against sediment and nutrient imbalances in lower Susquehanna waterways.








So how did this happen? How did the North American Beaver become a keystone species—an animal upon which the majority of other life forms within its ecosystem are so reliant? Well, it’s largely due to the fact that our beavers aren’t particularly fond of a constant stream of noise. More specifically, they don’t like the sound of running water in places where they intend to build and maintain a lodge. And so, as they begin to place sticks, mud, limbs, stones, and other materials within a noisy riffle on a stream, they create a dam, and behind it a pool—a pool that is particularly advantageous for protecting their home and providing a means of conveyance for their construction materials and food supplies.











While North American Beavers have returned to the region, most live as “bank beavers”, residing in the river and larger creeks of the valley where they excavate shelters among the roots of Black Willows and other shoreline trees and shrubs. Floodplain encroachment, legacy sediment deposits, and just plain human intolerance have all conspired to prohibit North American Beavers from performing their magic on smaller local streams. For migrating shorebirds, this continued absence of beaver dam ecosystems has turned much of the lower Susquehanna valley into “flyover country”. Those travelers that do stop to rest and feed concentrate at the few favorable locations such as the lateral bars and the hydroelectric dam-created delta at the Conejohela Flats on the river in Lancaster County. But centralization has its drawbacks. Migrants spending time at concentration points may have a greater chance of contracting and spreading disease. Protracted heavy foraging can degrade these habitats. And over time, features such the lateral bars and delta deposits, including those on the Conejohela Flats, transition into other habitats—riparian forests. A more widespread selection of favorable stopover points for shorebirds, waders, waterfowl, and other migrants is certainly desirable.
IMITATION IS THE SINCEREST FORM OF FLATTERY
Until public sentiment sways in favor of the North American Beaver, wildlife managers are mimicking some of the attributes of their sound-inspired installations.

Shallow-water conservation impoundments designed, constructed, and managed for migratory waterfowl and waders including shorebirds are not what we typically refer to as ponds—though they are lentic (still) waters. Similar shallow freshwater impoundments at our National Wildlife Refuges are referred to as pools by the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, but smaller versions like this example at Middle Creek very closely resemble the prairie potholes created by glacial scour in the north-central United States and adjacent portions of Canada. Many populations of migratory birds are familiar with pothole ecosystems and, like the beaver pools and marshes, have relied upon them as waypoints along their journeys for centuries.


You’ve heard the line, “If you build it, they will come.” Well, it’s true. Here is a sample of the activity witnessed during the past two weeks at the new impoundment completed just several months ago at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area along the tour route just beyond the “Stop 3” overlook.






















Species of wildlife in addition to shorebirds and waterfowl have already found the new impoundment favorable…










Managing saturation levels in shallow-water impoundments to resemble the seasonal variations in beaver pool and marsh systems can create lush growth and wildlife-rich environments. Take a look at some images from a project in a headwaters area of a tributary to Conewago Creek (west)…







So that you can relax while observing the comings and goings at a pair of the lower Susquehanna valley’s man-made impoundments, the Pennsylvania Game Commission has erected two viewing pavilions for public use on its lands…




During the next two weeks, the exodus of migrating shorebirds now staged and feeding upon Atlantic Horseshoe Crab eggs on Delaware Bay will commence. During the evening of their departure from the bay, many of these birds cross portions of the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed, particularly east of the river. Stormy weather and other climatic conditions may force some of them to seek a place to put down temporarily, so keeping a close eye on the new pothole-like impoundment at Middle Creek may be a prudent move. After that, waders known as “post-breeding wanderers” can show up at any time. Then, beginning as early as late June, shorebirds begin moving south on a migration that can provide us with viewing opportunities into September and beyond. See you out there!
Pretty pictures…
































We’ll have more on the Western Cattle Egrets and other interesting migrants at Middle Creek in an upcoming post. Check back soon!



The majority of floodplains in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed are, to put it mildly, dysfunctional. They are frequently disconnected from the lotic (flowing) streams and rivers that created them and are no longer capable of absorbing, purifying, and infiltrating high water during rain and snow-melt events. They are an ongoing source of nutrient and sediment pollution that impairs both our local waterways and Chesapeake Bay. For the plant and wildlife species that rely upon them for survival, their loss has been catastrophic.
Mill dams once impounded nearly every mile of low-gradient streams in the lower Susquehanna region. During the century or more of their existence prior to the implementation of soil conservation practices during the 1930s, sediments consisting mostly of nutrient-loaded clay, silt, and sand eroded from sloped terrain in storm runoff and accumulated behind these dams, filling many to the brim with mud—six, eight, ten, sometimes twelve feet deep! As the dams fail or are removed, the stream is left channelized, incising a path through a floodplain choked with these “legacy sediments”.








For a closer look at the Swarr Run renewal, including early map and aerial photograph views of the site, take a peek at this synopsis illustrating phase one of the project as presented to the North American Association of Wetland Managers by Justin Spangler of LandStudies, designers of the restoration. While perusing the material, be sure to review the significant reductions in nutrient and sediment loads discharged from these sites following the restoration work.









Have an impaired stream and a floodplain full of legacy sediments on your land or in your neighborhood? Consider encouraging your municipality, volunteer watershed group, or county conservation district to investigate the possibilities of planning and installing one of these projects. They’re a great enhancement for recreational fisheries, a private refugium, or a community-owned passive park system. Funding assistance may be available, particularly when regulatory or conservation goals can be met by completing restoration.