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LIFE IN THE LOWER SUSQUEHANNA RIVER WATERSHED
A Natural History of Conewago Falls—The Waters of Three Mile Island

Today’s NOAA/GOES satellite image serves as a little reminder of the big three. That’s right, it’s the three big “natural” disasters—wildfires, inland flooding, and coastal flooding (lucky for us, our region is at present millions of years removed from severe threats posed by the tectonic disasters—earthquakes, volcanoes, and tsunamis—and is not particularly prone to frequent tornadoes). Each continues to cause an increasing volume of property damage and threaten a greater number of lives because of where and how we choose to make our homes and erect our structures.

For all of human existence, the dynamics of the atmosphere have been shaping the topography and the ecosystems of the planet. In recent times, we’ve had the advantage of satellite technologies to show us spectacular images of atmospheric events as they happen. And through the various branches of science, we’ve come to understand the impact these events have upon the landscape and the people who live and/or work there.
Forestry sciences have helped us to understand how natural fuels, humidity, temperature, rainfall, soil moisture, wind, and human encroachment influence the frequency and severity of wildfires. These discoveries have led to changes in forest management and implementation of practices such as prescribed burns to reduce accumulated fuel loads. Because human development typically lowers soil moisture and brings along with it additional sources of ignition, many land managers and fire departments have warned of the ever increasing dangers of wildland-urban interface fires. These warnings have gone largely unheeded for more than four decades as millions of homes and other combustible structures have been erected within areas prone to fires capable of uncontrollable growth into disastrous conflagrations. The tinderbox wildlands—they’re a nice place to visit, but we ought not to live there!
Tropical storms and other sources of heavy precipitation bring about quite the hubbub over flooding. Meteorologists spend a lot of time explaining it all, but it’s almost as if no one pays any mind. For a people who check the weather forecast several times a day, every day of our adult life, just to get a leg up on how that weather is going to change day by day and hour by hour, you would think we would better anticipate the climatic events that happen over the long term. In particular, you would think we would have an awareness of our own individual susceptibility to flooding— a grasp of how, where, and why floods occur. You would think that repeated episodes of flooding would compel society to embrace an ethic that treated water as the valuable commodity it is. Yet, we all seem to follow the same patterns of behavior. First, we drain, dump, pipe, curb, channel, ditch, grade, pave, and pump to get the rain that falls upon our property off of our property. Then, the chump downstream gets really mad that we sent our water his way and flooded him out, so he takes the same measures to send even more water to the next poor slob down the line until finally the now polluted slurry of runoff floods the street, a cellar, a house, a business, or a stream—a stream that has been channelized so it no longer has a floodplain to absorb, hold, purify, and infiltrate the stormwater. Why was the stream channelized? So we could fill in the floodplain and build upon it of course. Two things come to mind here. First, if we’re going to be selfish enough to flood out our neighbors, then why shouldn’t we be totally selfish and keep for ourselves all the water that falls upon our place. After all, we’re going to need that water some day. And second, the floodplain is a nice place to visit, but we ought not to build there. Floodplains are for flooding; thousands of years of erosion have shaped them that way—it’s a gravity thing!
Next, we look at the lessons from geology, more specifically coastal geomorphology. Through these disciplines we know that the coastal plain—the flat land that spent most of the last 35.5 million years (the time since the meteor strike at the present-day mouth of Chesapeake Bay) as a beach or a tidal marsh—today stands mostly less than three dozen feet above sea level. We know that the sands forming barrier islands along the Atlantic seaboard, which are only several feet above sea level, shift their shape and position with the tides. Over the decades and centuries, these islands migrate and compensate for changes in climate and tidal patterns as well as sea levels. Behind their shifting dunes, vast tidal marshes are protected from seasonal storms including the periodic nor’easter or hurricane. Despite the importance of barrier island dynamics to the integrity of the bays and estuaries they protect, and despite their vulnerability to coastal storm surges, winds, and flooding, we choose to build there. In fact, the greatest population densities in the United States, and in many other countries of the world, are on the beach. It’s not because these hundreds of millions of people are fishing or loading/unloading ships for a living—it’s mostly for the view. Despite their importance to fisheries and other coastal life, we continue to alter and destroy the near-tidal areas of the the barrier islands and bays. We go to great expense to “save” for our uses the lands that should be getting inundated by rising sea levels to create new shallow tidewater zones. We waste spectacular amounts of money pumping sand back onto beaches to keep naturally migrating sediments from changing their shape and position in response to the tides. We keep putting more people and more capital at risk by urbanizing these low-lying areas. Building on the beach is absolute madness. It’s an ecological catastrophe from day one and a human catastrophe soon after.
All of the lands impacted by these natural events have two things in common. Each becomes a potential disaster area if people choose to construct their homes or businesses there. And each, if left in its wild state and given a buffer space from human activity, reacts with natural time-derived mechanisms in response to the same events. These mechanisms are often essential for provision of the unique ecosystems required by many of our most threatened wildlife species. Human encroachment into floodplains, wetlands, tidal marshes, beaches, and xeric uplands is a double-edged sword. It first decimates populations of these uncommon species by destroying and fragmenting their specialized habitats. Then, it sets the stage for the fires, floods, and other disasters that endanger the lives and property of the people living there. Considering the ramifications of building in these fire and flood susceptible areas, we can and should live somewhere else, especially when the wildlife requiring these places often can’t.


One of the earliest non-native fish species to be widely released into North American waterways was the Common Carp. Stocks brought to the United States were likely sourced from populations already naturalized throughout much of western Europe after introductions originating from the fish’s native range in Eurasia, probably including the Danube and other watersheds east through the Volga. In western Europe, the species promised to be an abundant and easily cultivated food source. Under the same premise, carp were transported to the United States during the early 1800s and widely introduced into streams, lakes, and rivers throughout the country.
Common Carp thrive in nutrient-rich waters, particularly those subjected to sewage discharge and agricultural runoff, conditions which were already prevalent during the Common Carp’s initial introduction and have remained widespread ever since. Within these polluted streams, lakes, and ponds, introduced carp feed aggressively on benthic organisms and plants, stirring up decaying organic matter (mulm) from the substrate. This process raises turbidity in the water column and releases excessive amounts of the nutrient phosphorus resulting in unusually large algal blooms. Algal blooms can block sunlight from the longer-lived oxygen-producing vascular plants that grow in submerged environs. Growing beneath a dense cloud or blanket of algae can compromise the vigor of oxygen-producing vascular plants and disable their biochemical functions within the aquatic ecosystem. As the short-lived algae die, the bacteria that decay them begin to place increased oxygen demands on the water. With less oxygen being produced by both the vascular plants and the algae, and with oxygen consumption increased by the activity of decomposers, conditions can become fatal for fish and other organisms. This process is known as eutrophication. Because Common Carp are among the species most tolerant of eutrophic conditions, they tend to thrive in the conditions they create while the native fishes perish.
Common Carp spawn in the spring, usually from late April through June, when the water temperature is as low as 58 degrees and as high as 83 degrees Fahrenheit. This activity is often triggered by a rapid increase in water temperature. In a small lake, this may be brought on by a string of sunny days in late April or May. On larger streams and rivers, the temperature spike that initiates the spawn may not occur until warm rains and runoff enter the stream during June.





Common Carp are one of the most widely farmed and eaten fish in all the world. Here in the United States, they were introduced beginning two hundred years ago because they were favorable to the palate, grew to large size quickly, and were a source of much needed food. Today, the Common Carp is seldom found on the American dinner plate. Yet, pound for pound, it is one of the most abundant fish in many of our waters, particularly in man-made lakes. Like some of our other most invasive species—including Blue Catfish, Flathead Catfish, and Northern Snakehead—Common Carp are perhaps the most edible of our freshwater fishes. For many cultures, they are an important staple. For others, they are a delicacy or holiday treat. In America, they do horrendous damage to aquatic ecosystems following establishment as a food crop that almost never gets harvested. Did you realize that on the internet, there are literally hundreds of recipes and culinary videos available to show you how to prepare delicious dishes made with Common Carp? It’s true. And for the cost of a fishing license, you can catch all you want, usually several pounds at a time. So why not give the marine fisheries a break? Take the big leap and learn to eat invasive freshwater species instead.

Currently in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed, you can find these five species of herbaceous plants in full bloom. As they grow, they and others like them help to purify waters within their respective ecosystems by taking up nutrients—namely, the nitrogen and phosphorus that can lead to detrimental algal blooms and eutrophication in ponds, lakes, streams, and rivers.









Soon after their arrival during the late 1600s, the earliest trans-Atlantic human migrants to settle the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed began the process of eliminating many of our largest native fish species. They started by extirpating nature’s steward of lowland streams and wetlands, the North American Beaver. The beaver’s meticulously maintained dams and fisheries-friendly ponds were promptly replaced by man-made impoundments designed to permanently divert water for powering lumber and grain mills. Behind these structures, silt deposits accumulated as the forests were clear cut and the land subjected to highly erosive farming methods. Mill dams would eventually be located on nearly every mile of suitable low-gradient stream in the basin. Populations of native coldwater fishes including Brook Trout were quickly lost or left isolated in scattered headwaters.
With their navigation of creeks blocked by nearly impenetrable mill dams, seasonally migratory freshwater and anadromous fish were denied access to their traditional spawning waters. The latter then had their populations seriously depleted, and in some cases extirpated, following construction of hydroelectric dams on the lower Susquehanna during the first half of the twentieth century. The loss these latter species, including the herrings, Striped Bass, and sturgeons, all of which attain great size only because of their ability to make a sea run to access the year-round food energy available in the Atlantic, constitute a tremendous reduction in the numbers, variety, and mass of fish occurring in the river and its tributaries.
Add to these events the various sources of pollution entering the lower Susquehanna’s waterways during the intervening years including acid mine drainage, agricultural nutrients and sediments, stormwater runoff, untreated domestic and industrial sewage, illegal dumping, pesticides, etc., and one can easily understand how the watershed’s native fishery was lost as a commercial, food, and recreational resource.
Presently, the effort to restore populations of self-sustaining anadromous fishes to the lower Susquehanna is stalled due to the presence of introduced invasive species, particularly Northern Snakeheads, in the river’s waters below Conowingo Dam. Lifts that carry migrating fishes over the lower river’s hydroelectric dams during the spring run are shut down to avoid extending the range of the hoards of non-native snakeheads to waters upstream of their present location. Any translocation of anadromous fish must now be completed by manually separating desired species from among the invaders and loading them into a tank truck for transport to waters upstream of the dams. But Northern Snakeheads are currently so prevalent at Conowingo that they are overwhelming the lift used for collecting and sorting fish as well.
Any slight hope that had existed for a return of harvestable stocks of American Shad or other sea-run native species to the Susquehanna and its tributaries seems to be fading. And widespread improvements to water quality that would promote reestablishment of sustained populations of native coldwater fishes like Brook Trout are strictly a long-range goal.
Recreational anglers, however, still remain in the game—but their reward is a bit of a booby prize. To compensate fisherman for the loss of their quarry on the river and in streams, and to promote an interest in the fishing pastime and conserving waterways, the stocking of various species of “game fish” has been a continuous undertaking, particular since the middle decades of the twentieth century. Some of these introductions are planned, others, like the release of Northern Snakeheads, are unsanctioned and outright illegal. The one thing most introductions have in common is that they consist of hardy, aggressive, predatory fishes that are non-native species (or native transplants from watersheds such as the Mississippi). Their presence, especially in large concentrations and particularly during the time immediately following introduction, can have a deleterious impact on native stream inhabitants. Some introduced fish, the Flathead Catfish for example, are upon discovery deemed invasive species; others, like the Smallmouth Bass, escape such a label not because they lack negative impacts on stream communities and ecosystems, but because they have been present for extended periods of time and have thus been accepted as part of the local fishing culture.

The creation of recreational fisheries comprised of introduced species has certainly helped maintain an interest in the fishing hobby and in the conservation of waterways. It has even been a driving force for spectacular restorations of streams that otherwise would have languished in an impaired condition with little in the way of diversity of species—native or non-native. As anglers, we are especially indebted to those who’ve devoted their time, energies, and, in some cases, a lot of money to projects that specifically seek to reestablish native waterways within the challenging landscape of the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed. With an eye on the future, perhaps now is a good time to join them and focus our passion for freshwater angling on steering fisheries management more toward the native ecosystems approach. Quality instead of quantity.
In that spirit, here are three items we can add to our tackle boxes this season to be better fisheries conservationists, instead of our own worst enemies.




Best of luck this fishing season. We hope your time outdoors will motivate you to get involved with efforts to keep your local waterways clean. You might even be inspired to assist with projects that are planned or currently underway in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed to restore stream segments, wetlands, and floodplains. Many of these projects are grassroots efforts and they’d love to have your participation. Your local county conservation district can steer you towards an active restoration group near you. Give them a ring.

You’ve seen the advice on the internet and elsewhere—”add coke to your gas tank and lower your fuel consumption.” While the sources vary in their claims, reductions as great as 55% are often reported. But are these performance improvements real? Time for a fact check.
Uncle Tyler Dyer and his old pal Bellwood Comstock, Jr., better known by those close to him as “Woodstock”, got together and decided to try it out. For their test, Uncle Ty added a 20-ounce bottle of Coke to his tank while his science partner Woodstock tried a same-sized portion of Pepsi in his automobile.
Within days, the experiment had reached a definitive outcome. To say the least, our test techs were absolutely stunned by the results.
“Man, we can’t believe it,” exclaimed Uncle Ty.
“Spending money on gas is the least of my worries now,” noted his buddy Woodstock.
Collectively, our dynamic duo is now cutting down on carbon emissions by hundreds of pounds every month. When asked if there were any other benefits to dumping cola in the tank, Ty reminded us, “Oh, yeah, we’ve been getting great exercise, riding our bikes and walking everywhere we go. Earlier this week, we hitchhiked to a used car lot looking for bargains. Man, it was just like the old days!”
“You know,” joked Uncle Ty’s loyal sidekick Woodstock, “if everybody did this, it sure would help relieve traffic congestion too.”
During Saturday’s Prescribed Fire Demonstration at the Pennsylvania Game Commission’s Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area, we noticed just how fast some species of wildlife return to areas subjected to burns administered to maintain grassland habitat and reduce the risk of high-intensity blazes.







Following the Prescribed Fire Demonstration, we decided to pay a visit to some of the parcels where burns had been administered one week earlier on the north side of Middle Creek’s main impoundment. We found a surprising amount of activity.







We’ve seen worse, but this winter has been particularly tough for birds and mammals in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed. Due to the dry conditions of late summer and fall in 2024, the wild food crop of seeds, nuts, berries, and other fare has been less than average. The cold temperatures make insects hard to come by. Let’s have a look at how some of our local generalist and specialist species are faring this winter.





















Wildlife certainly has a tough time making it through the winter in the lower Susquehanna valley. Establishing and/or protecting habitat that includes plenty of year-round cover and sources of food and water can really give generalist species a better chance of survival. But remember, the goal isn’t to create unnatural concentrations of wildlife, it is instead to return the landscape surrounding us into more of a natural state. That’s why we try to use native plants as much as possible. And that’s why we try to attract not only a certain bird, mammal, or other creature, but we try to promote the development of a naturally functioning ecosystem with a food web, a diversity of pollinating plants, pollinating insects, and so on. Through this experience, we stand a better chance of understanding what it takes to graduate to the bigger job at hand—protecting, enhancing, and restoring habitats needed by specialist species. These are efforts worthy of the great resources that are sometimes needed to make them a success. It takes a mindset that goes beyond a focus upon the welfare of each individual animal to instead achieve the discipline to concentrate long-term on the projects and processes necessary to promote the health of the ecosystems within which specialist species live and breed. It sounds easier than it is—the majority of us frequently become distracted.


On the wider scale, it’s of great importance to identify and protect the existing and potential future habitats necessary for the survival of specialist species. And we’re not saying that solely for their benefit. These protection measures should probably include setting aside areas on higher ground that may become the beach intertidal zone or tidal marsh when the existing ones become inundated. And it may mean finally getting out of the wetlands, floodplains, and gullies to let them be the rain-absorbing, storm-buffering, water purifiers they spent millennia becoming. And it may mean it’s time to give up on building stick structures on tinderbox lands, especially hillsides and rocky outcrops with shallow, eroding soils that dry to dust every few years. We need to think ahead and stop living for the view. If you want to enjoy the view from these places, go visit and take plenty of pictures, or a video, that’s always nice—then live somewhere else. Each of these areas includes ecosystems that meet the narrow habitat requirements of many of our specialist species, and we’re building like fools in them. Then we feign victimhood and solicit pity when the calamity strikes: fires, floods, landslides, and washouts—again and again. Wouldn’t it be a whole lot smarter to build somewhere else? It may seem like a lot to do for some specialist animals, but it’s not. Because, you see, we should and can live somewhere else—they can’t.


Our wildlife has been having a tough winter. The local species not only contend with cold and stormy weather, but they also need to find food and shelter in a landscape that we’ve rendered sterile of these essentials throughout much of the lower Susquehanna valley’s farmlands, suburbs, and cities.
Planting trees, shrubs, flowers, and grasses that benefit our animals can go a long way, often turning a ho-hum parcel of property into a privately owned oasis. Providing places for wildlife to feed, rest, and raise their young can help assure the survival of many of our indigenous species. With a little dedication, you can be liberated from the chore of manicuring a lawn and instead spend your time enjoying the birds, mammals, insects, and other creatures that will visit your custom-made habitat.

Fortunately for us, our local county conservation districts are again conducting springtime tree sales offering a variety of native and beneficial cultivated plants at discount prices. Listed here are links to information on how to pre-order your plants for pickup in April. Click away to check out the species each county is offering in 2025!
Cumberland County Conservation District Annual Tree Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: Friday, March 21, 2025
Pickup on: Thursday, April 24, 2025 or Friday, April 25, 2025

Dauphin County Conservation District Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: Monday, March 17, 2025
Pickup on: Thursday, April 24, 2025 or Friday, April 25, 2025

Franklin County Conservation District Tree Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: Wednesday, March 19, 2025
Pickup on: Thursday, April 24, 2025

Lancaster County Annual Tree Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: Friday, March 7, 2025
Pickup on: Friday, April 11, 2025

Lebanon County Conservation District Tree and Plant Sale—
Orders due by: Monday, March 3, 2025
Pickup on: Friday, April 18, 2025




York County Conservation District Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: March 15, 2025
Pickup on: Thursday, April 10, 2025


If you live in Adams County, Pennsylvania, you may be eligible to receive free trees and shrubs for your property from the Adams County Planting Partnership (Adams County Conservation District and the Watershed Alliance of Adams County). These trees are provided by the Chesapeake Bay Foundation’s Keystone 10-Million Trees Partnership which aims to close a seven-year project in 2025 by realizing the goal of planting 10 million trees to protect streams by stabilizing soils, taking up nutrients, reducing stormwater runoff, and providing shade. If you own property located outside of Adams County, but still within the Chesapeake Bay Watershed (which includes all of the Susquehanna, Juniata, and Potomac River drainages), you still may have an opportunity to get involved. Contact your local county conservation district office or watershed organization for information.


We hope you’re already shopping. Need help making your selections? Click on the “Trees, Shrubs, and Woody Vines” tab at the top of this page to check out Uncle Tyler Dyer’s leaf collection. He has most of the species labelled with their National Wetland Plant List Indicator Rating. You can consult these ratings to help find species suited to the soil moisture on your planting site(s). For example: if your site has sloped upland ground and/or the soils sometimes dry out in summer, select plants with a rating such as UPL or FACU. If your planting in soils that remain moist or wet, select plants with the OBL or FACW rating. Plants rated FAC are generally adaptable and can usually go either way, but may not thrive or survive under stressful conditions in extremely wet or dry soils.
NATIONAL WETLAND PLANT LIST INDICATOR RATING DEFINITIONS
Using these ratings, you might choose to plant Pin Oaks (FACW) and Swamp White Oaks (FACW) in your riparian buffer along a stream; Northern Red Oaks (FACU) and White Oaks (FACU) in the lawn or along the street, driveway, or parking area; and Chestnut Oaks (UPL) on your really dry hillside with shallow soil. Give it a try.

As we enter November, migratory raptor flights through the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed transition to the bigger birds. Whether you’re on the river, on a mountain, or just outside your humble abode, persistent alertness to soaring avians can yield rewarding views of a number of late-season specialties.






A visit to a ridgetop on a breezy day—particularly after passage of a cold front—may give you the chance to see numerous eagles as well.

This afternoon, we got lucky and were treated to a bit of an aging clinic presented by the Bald Eagles we observed and photographed. Careful determination of the age classes of raptors counted by hawkwatchers can provide an early warning of problems in the ecosystems that support populations of these top-of-the-food-chain predators. For example: during the 1950s and early 1960s, a progressively lower percentage of juvenile and other non-adult age classes among the Bald Eagles being observed forewarned of the dangers of dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane (DDT) pesticide in the environment. The principle effect of accumulations of the DDT toxins in eagles, Ospreys, Peregrine Falcons, and other predatory birds that consumed waterfowl and/or fish was to thin their eggs shells. The result was widespread brood failure and a near total loss of new generations of offspring. Eventually, nearly all Bald Eagles being seen in areas impacted by DDT were progressively older adults, most of which failed as nesting pairs. As the adult birds began dying off, the Bald Eagle population dwindled to numbers that raised fears of the species’ extinction. Implementation of the DDT cancellation order and the Clean Water Act in 1972, and the Endangered Species Act in 1973, helped save the Bald Eagle. But our regional “Eastern Peregrine Falcon”, a bird with a shorter life span than the Bald Eagle, was unable to endure the years of DDT use, dioxin pollution, and illegal hunting and egg collecting. Its population is gone.








While the Bald Eagles are still stealing the show, cold and gusty weather should bring an increasing number of Golden Eagles our way during the remainder of the month. Some are already trickling through…



Later this month, Bald Eagle numbers on the lower Susquehanna below Conowingo Dam (U.S. 1) near Rising Sun, Maryland, will begin to grow. Fisherman’s Park, located along the west shoreline below the dam, is an excellent place to observe and photograph scores of these regal birds. And few places provide a better opportunity to learn to differentiate Bald Eagle age classes. If you’re really lucky, a Golden Eagle or two may drop in as well. So plan to make the trip. The best time to visit is on a weekday. The parking lot can become overcrowded on weekends and will be closed under such circumstances. It’s best to avoid the long Thanksgiving weekend as well.

The deluge of rain that soaked the lower Susquehanna watershed during last week is now just a memory. Streams to the west of the river, where the flooding courtesy of the remnants of Hurricane Debby was most severe, have reached their crest and receded. Sliding away toward the Chesapeake and Atlantic is all that runoff, laden with a brew of pollutants including but not limited to: agricultural nutrients, sediment, petroleum products, sewage, lawn chemicals, tires, dog poop, and all that litter—paper, plastics, glass, Styrofoam, and more. For aquatic organisms including our freshwater fish, these floods, particularly when they occur in summer, can compound the effects of the numerous stressors that already limit their ability to live, thrive, and reproduce.

One of those preexisting stressors, high water temperature, can be either intensified or relieved by summertime precipitation. Runoff from forested or other densely vegetated ground normally has little impact on stream temperature. But segments of waterways receiving significant volumes of runoff from areas of sun-exposed impervious ground will usually see increases during at least the early stages of a rain event. Fortunately, projects implemented to address the negative impacts of stormwater flow and stream impairment can often have the additional benefit of helping to attenuate sudden rises in stream temperature.

Of the fishes inhabiting the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed’s temperate streams, the least tolerant of summer warming are the trouts and sculpins—species often described as “coldwater fishes”. Coldwater fishes require water temperatures below 70° Fahrenheit to thrive and reproduce. The optimal temperature range is 50° to 65° F. In the lower Susquehanna valley, few streams are able to sustain trouts and sculpins through the summer months—largely due to the effects of warm stormwater runoff and other forms of impairment.




Coldwater fishes are generally found in small spring-fed creeks and headwaters runs. Where stream gradient, substrate, dissolved oxygen, and other parameters are favorable, some species may be tolerant of water warmer than the optimal values. In other words, these temperature classifications are not set in stone and nobody ever explained ichthyology to a fish, so there are exceptions. The Brown Trout for example is sometimes listed as a “coldwater transition fish”, able to survive and reproduce in waters where stream quality is exceptionally good but the temperature may periodically reach the mid-seventies.


More tolerant of summer heat than the trouts, sculpins, and daces are the “coolwater fishes”—species able to feed, grow, and reproduce in streams with a temperature of less than 80° F, but higher than 60° F. Coolwater fishes thrive in creeks and rivers that hover in the 65° to 70° F range during summer.


What are the causes of modern-day reductions in coldwater and coolwater fish habitats in the lower Susquehanna River and its hundreds of miles of tributaries? To answer that, let’s take a look at the atmospheric, cosmic, and hydrologic processes that impact water temperature. Technically, these processes could be measured as heat flux—the rate of heat energy transfer per unit area per unit time, frequently expressed as watts per meter squared (W/m²). Without getting too technical, we’ll just take a look at the practical impact these processes have on stream temperatures.
HEAT FLUX PROCESSES IN A SEGMENT OF STREAM























Now that we have a basic understanding of the heat flux processes responsible for determining the water temperatures of our creeks and rivers, let’s venture a look at a few graphics from gauge stations on some of the lower Susquehanna’s tributaries equipped with appropriate United States Geological Survey monitoring devices. While the data from each of these stations is clearly noted to be provisional, it can still be used to generate comparative graphics showing basic trends in easy-to-monitor parameters like temperature and stream flow.
Each image is self-labeled and plots stream temperature in degrees Fahrenheit (bold blue) and stream discharge in cubic feet per second (thin blue).

The daily oscillations in temperature reflect the influence of several heat flux processes. During the day, solar (shortwave) radiation and convection from summer air, especially those hot south winds, are largely responsible for the daily rises of about 5° F. Longwave radiation has a round-the-clock influence—adding heat to the stream during the day and mostly shedding it at night. Atmospheric exchange including evaporative cooling may help moderate the rise in stream temperatures during the day, and certainly plays a role in bringing them back down after sunset. Along its course this summer, the West Conewago Creek absorbed enough heat to render it a warmwater fishery in the area of the gauging station. The West Conewago is a shallow, low gradient stream over almost its entire course. Its waters move very slowly, thus extending their exposure time to radiated heat flux and reducing the benefit of cooling by atmospheric exchange. Fortunately for bass, catfish, and sunfish, these temperatures are in the ideal range for warmwater fishes to feed, grow, and reproduce—generally over 80° F, and ideally in the 70° to 85° F range. Coolwater fishes though, would not find this stream segment favorable. It was consistently above the 80° F maximum and the 60° to 70° F range preferred by these species. And coldwater fishes, well, they wouldn’t be caught dead in this stream segment. Wait, scratch that—the only way they would be caught in this segment is dead. No trouts or sculpins here.

Look closely and you’ll notice that although the temperature pattern on this chart closely resembles that of the West Conewago’s, the readings average about 5 degrees cooler. This may seem surprising when one realizes that the Codorus follows a channelized path through the heart of York City and its urbanized suburbs—a heat island of significance to a stream this size. Before that it passes through numerous impoundments where its waters are exposed to the full energy of the sun. The tempering factor for the Codorus is its baseflow. Despite draining a smaller watershed than its neighbor to the north, the Codorus’s baseflow (low flow between periods of rain) was 96 cubic feet per second on August 5th, nearly twice that of the West Conewago (51.1 cubic feet per second on August 5th). Thus, the incoming heat energy was distributed over a greater mass in the Codorus and had a reduced impact on its temperature. Though the Codorus is certainly a warmwater fishery in its lower reaches, coolwater and transitional fishes could probably inhabit its tributaries in segments located closer to groundwater sources without stress. Several streams in its upper reaches are in fact classified as trout-stocked fisheries.


The Kreutz Creek gauge shows temperature patterns similar to those in the West Conewago and Codorus data sets, but notice the lower overall temperature trend and the flow. Kreutz Creek is a much smaller stream than the other two, with a flow averaging less than one tenth that of the West Conewago and about one twentieth of that in the Codorus. And most of the watershed is cropland or urban/suburban space. Yet, the stream remains below 80° F through most of the summer. The saving graces in Kreutz Creek are reduced exposure time and gradient. The waters of Kreutz Creek tumble their way through a small watershed to enter the Susquehanna within twenty-four hours, barely time to go through a single daily heating and cooling cycle. As a result, their is no chance for water to accumulate radiant and convective heat over multiple summer days. The daily oscillations in temperature are less amplified than we find in the previous streams—a swing of about three degrees compared to five. This indicates a better balance between heat flux processes that raise temperature and those that reduce it. Atmospheric exchange in the stream’s riffles, forest cover, and good hyporheic exchange along its course could all be tempering factors in Kreutz Creek. From a temperature perspective, Kreutz Creek provides suitable waters for coolwater fishes.

Muddy Creek is a trout-stocked fishery, but it cannot sustain coldwater species through the summer heat. Though temperatures in Muddy Creek may be suitable for coolwater fishes, silt, nutrients, low dissolved oxygen, and other factors could easily render it strictly a warmwater fishery, inhabited by species tolerant of significant stream impairment.

A significant number of stream segments in the Chiques watershed have been rehabilitated to eliminate intrusion by grazing livestock, cropland runoff, and other sources of impairment. Through partnerships between a local group of watershed volunteers and landowners, one tributary, Donegal Creek, has seen riparian buffers, exclusion fencing, and other water quality and habitat improvements installed along nearly ever inch of its run from Donegal Springs through high-intensity farmland to its mouth on the main stem of the Chiques just above its confluence with the Susquehanna. The improved water quality parameters in the Donegal support native coldwater sculpins and an introduced population of reproducing Brown Trout. While coldwater habitat is limited to the Donegal, the main stem of the Chiques and its largest tributary, the Little Chiques Creek, both provide suitable temperatures for coolwater fishes.





Despite its meander through and receipt of water from high-intensity farmland, the temperature of the lower Conewago (East) maxes out at about 85° F, making it ideal for warmwater fishes and even those species that are often considered coolwater transition fishes like introduced Smallmouth Bass, Rock Bass, Walleye, and native Margined Madtom. This survivable temperature is a testament to the naturally occurring and planted forest buffers along much of the stream’s course, particularly on its main stem. But the Conewago suffers serious baseflow problems compared to other streams we’ve looked at so far. Just prior to the early August storms, flow was well below 10 cubic feet per second for a drainage area of more than fifty square miles. While some of this reduced flow is the result of evaporation, much of it is anthropogenic in origin as the rate of groundwater removal continues to increase and a recent surge in stream withdraws for irrigation reaches its peak during the hottest days of summer.



A little side note—the flow rate on the Conewago at the Falmouth gauge climbed to about 160 cubic feet per second as a result of the remnants of Hurricane Debby while the gauge on the West Conewago at Manchester skyrocketed to about 20,000 cubic feet per second. Although the West Conewago’s watershed (drainage area) is larger than that of the Conewago on the east shore, it’s larger only by a multiple of two or three, not 125. That’s a dramatic difference in rainfall!

The temperatures at the Bellaire monitoring station, which is located upstream of the Conewago’s halfway point between its headwaters in Mount Gretna and its mouth, are quite comparable to those at the Falmouth gauge. Although a comparison between these two sets of data indicate a low net increase in heat absorption along the stream’s course between the two points, it also suggests sources of significant warming upstream in the areas between the Bellaire gauge and the headwaters.

The waters of the Little Conewago are protected within planted riparian buffers and mature woodland along much of their course to the confluence with the Conewago’s main stem just upstream of Bellaire. This tributary certainly isn’t responsible for raising the temperature of the creek, but is instead probably helping to cool it with what little flow it has.

Though mostly passing through natural and planted forest buffers above its confluence with the Little Conewago, the main stem’s critically low baseflow makes it particularly susceptible to heat flux processes that raise stream temperatures in segments within the two or three large agricultural properties where owners have opted not to participate in partnerships to rehabilitate the waterway. The headwaters area, while largely within Pennsylvania State Game Lands, is interspersed with growing residential communities where potable water is sourced from hundreds of private and community wells—every one of them removing groundwater and contributing to the diminishing baseflow of the creek. Some of that water is discharged into the stream after treatment at the two municipal sewer plants in the upper Conewago. This effluent can become quite warm during processing and may have significant thermal impact when the stream is at a reduced rate of flow. A sizeable headwaters lake is seasonally flooded for recreation in Mount Gretna. Such lakes can function as effective mid-day collectors of solar (shortwave) radiation that both warms the water and expedites atmospheric exchange.

Though Conewago Creek (East) is classified as a trout-stocked fishery in its upper reaches in Lebanon County, its low baseflow and susceptibility to warming render it inhospitable to these coldwater fishes by late-spring/early summer.





The removal of two water supply dams on the headwaters of Hammer Creek at Rexmont eliminated a large source of temperature fluctuation on the waterway, but did little to address the stream’s exposure to radiant and convective heat flux processes as it meanders largely unprotected out of the forest cover of Pennsylvania State Game Lands and through high-intensity farmlands in the Lebanon Valley. Moderating the temperature to a large degree is the influx of karst water from Buffalo Springs, located about two miles upstream from this gauging station, and other limestone springs that feed tributaries which enter the Hammer from the east and north. Despite the cold water, the impact of the stream’s nearly total exposure to radiative and other warming heat flux processes can readily be seen in the graphic. Though still a coldwater fishery by temperature standards, it is rather obvious that rapid heating and other forms of impairment await these waters as they continue flowing through segments with few best management practices in place for mitigating pollutants. By the time Hammer Creek passes back through the Furnace Hills and Pennsylvania State Game Lands, it is leaning toward classification as a coolwater fishery with significant accumulations of sediment and nutrients. But this creek has a lot going for it—mainly, sources of cold water. A core group of enthusiastic landowners could begin implementing the best management practices and undertaking the necessary water quality improvement projects that could turn this stream around and make it a coldwater treasure. An organized effort is currently underway to do just that. Visit Trout Unlimited’s Don Fritchey Chapter and Donegal Chapter to learn more. Better yet, join them as a volunteer or cooperating landowner!



For coldwater fishes, the thousands of years since the most recent glacial maximum have seen their range slowly contract from nearly the entirety of the once much larger Susquehanna watershed to the headwaters of only our most pristine streams. Through no fault of their own, they had the misfortune of bad timing—humans arrived and found coldwater streams and the groundwater that feeds them to their liking. Some of the later arrivals even built their houses right on top of the best-flowing springs. Today, populations of these fishes in the region we presently call the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed are seriously disconnected and the prospect for survival of these species here is not good. Stream rehabilitation, groundwater management, and better civil planning and land/water stewardship are the only way coldwater fishes, and very possibly coolwater fishes as well, will survive. For some streams like Hammer Creek, it’s not too late to make spectacular things happen. It mostly requires a cadre of citizens, local government, project specialists, and especially stakeholders to step up and be willing to remain focused upon project goals so that the many years of work required to turn a failing stream around can lead to success.




You’re probably glad this look at heat flux processes in streams has at last come to an end. That’s good, because we’ve got a lot of work to do.



The rain and clouds have at last departed. With blue skies and sunshine to remind us just how wonderful a spring afternoon can be, we took a stroll at Memorial Lake State Park in Lebanon County, Pennsylvania, to look for some migratory birds.








What? You thought we were gonna drop in on Maryland’s largest city for a couple of ball games and some oysters, clams, and crab cakes—not likely.
Tuesday’s collision of the container ship Dali into Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key Bridge and the nearly immediate collapse of the span into the chilly waters below reminds us just how unforgiving and deadly maritime accidents can be. Upon termination of rescue and recovery operations, salvage and cleanup will be prioritized as the next steps in the long-term process of reopening the navigable waters to ship traffic and construction of a new bridge. Part of the effort will include monitoring for leaks of fuels and other hazardous materials from the ship, its damaged cargo containers, and vehicles and equipment that were on the bridge when it failed.

On the waters and shores of today’s Chesapeake, numerous county, state, and federal agencies, including the United States Coast Guard, monitor and inspect looking for conditions and situations that could lead to point-source or accidental discharges of petroleum products and other hazardous materials into the bay. Many are trained, equipped, and organized for emergency response to contain and mitigate spills upon detection. But this was not always the case.
Through much of the twentieth century, maritime spills of oil and other chemicals magnified the effects of routine discharges of hazardous materials and sanitary sewer effluent into the Chesapeake and its tributaries. The cumulative effect of these pollutants progressively impaired fisheries and bay ecosystems leading to noticeable declines in numbers of many aquatic species. Rather frequently, spills or discharges resulted in conspicuous fish and/or bird kills.
One of the worst spills occurred near the mouth of the Potomac River on February 2, 1976, when a barge carrying 250,000 gallons of number 6 oil sank in a storm and lost its cargo into the bay. During a month-long cleanup, the United States Coast Guard recovered approximately 167,000 gallons of the spilled oil, the remainder dispersed into the environment. A survey counted 8,469 “sea ducks” killed. Of the total number, the great majority were Horned Grebes (4,347 or 51.3%) and Long-tailed Ducks (2,959 or 34.9%). Other species included Surf Scoter (Melanitta perspicillata) (405 or 4.8%), Common Loon (195 or 2.3%), Bufflehead (166 or 2.0%), Ruddy Duck (107 or 1.3%), Common Goldeneye (78 or 0.9%), Tundra Swan (46 or 0.5%), Greater Scaup (19 or 0.2%), American Black Duck (12 or 0.2%), Common Merganser (11 or 0.1%), Canvasback (10 or 0.1%), Double-crested Cormorant (10 or 0.1%), Canada Goose (8 or 0.1%), White-winged Scoter (Melanitta deglandi) (7 or 0.1%), Redhead (5 or 0.1%), gull species (10 or 0.1%), miscellaneous ducks and herons (13 or 0.2%) and unidentified (61 or 0.7%). During the spring migration, a majority of these birds would have made their way north and passed through the lower Susquehanna valley. The accident certainly impacted the occurrence of the listed species during that spring in 1976, and possibly for a number of years after.

The Federal Water Pollution Control Act Amendments of 1972, commonly known as the Clean Water Act, put teeth into the original FWCPCA of 1948 and began reversing the accumulation of pollutants in the bay and other bodies of water around the nation. Additional amendments in 1977 and 1987 have strengthened protections and changed the culture of “dump-and-run” disposal and “dilution-is-the-solution” treatment of hazardous wastes. During the late nineteen-seventies and early nineteen-eighties, emergency response teams and agencies began organizing to control and mitigate spill events. The result has been a greater awareness and competency for handling accidental discharges of fuels and other chemicals into Chesapeake Bay and other waterways. These improvements can help minimize the environmental impact of the Dali’s collision with the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore.

SOURCES
Roland, John V., Moore, Glenn E., and Bellanca, Michael A. 1977. “The Chesapeake Bay Oil Spill—February 2, 1976: A Case History”. International Oil Spill Conference Proceedings (1977). 1977 (1): 523-527.
It’s that time of year. Your local county conservation district is taking orders for their annual tree sale and it’s a deal that can’t be beat. Order now for pickup in April.
The prices are a bargain and the selection includes the varieties you need to improve wildlife habitat and water quality on your property. For species descriptions and more details, visit each tree sale web page (click the sale name highlighted in blue). And don’t forget to order packs of evergreens for planting in mixed clumps and groves to provide winter shelter and summertime nesting sites for our local native birds. They’re only $12.00 for a bundle of 10.

Cumberland County Conservation District Annual Tree Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: Friday, March 22, 2024
Pickup on: Thursday, April 18, 2024 or Friday, April 19, 2024



Dauphin County Conservation District Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: Monday, March 18, 2024
Pickup on: Thursday, April 18, 2024 or Friday, April 19, 2024

Lancaster County Annual Tree Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: Friday, March 8, 2024
Pickup on: Friday, April 12, 2024






Lebanon County Conservation District Tree and Plant Sale—
Orders due by: Friday, March 8, 2024
Pickup on: Friday, April 19, 2024




Perry County Conservation District Tree Sale—
Orders due by: Sunday, March 24, 2024
Pickup on: Thursday, April 11, 2024

Again this year, Perry County is offering bluebird nest boxes for sale. The price?—just $12.00.

York County Conservation District Seedling Sale—
Orders due by: Friday, March 15, 2024
Pickup on: Thursday, April 11, 2024

To get your deciduous trees like gums, maples, oaks, birches, and poplars off to a safe start, conservation district tree sales in Cumberland, Dauphin, Lancaster, and Perry Counties are offering protective tree shelters. Consider purchasing these plastic tubes and supporting stakes for each of your hardwoods, especially if you have hungry deer in your neighborhood.

There you have it. Be sure to check out each tree sale’s web page to find the selections you like, then get your order placed. The deadlines will be here before you know it and you wouldn’t want to miss values like these!
Heavy rains and snow melt have turned the main stem of the Susquehanna and its larger tributaries into a muddy torrent. For fish-eating (piscivorous) ducks, the poor visibility in fast-flowing turbid waters forces them to seek better places to dive for food. With man-made lakes and ponds throughout most of the region still ice-free, waterfowl are taking to these sources of open water until the rivers and streams recede and clear.



With a hard freeze on the way, the fight for life will get even more desperate in the coming weeks. Lakes will ice over and the struggle for food will intensify. Fortunately for mergansers and other piscivorous waterfowl, high water on the Susquehanna is expected to recede and clarify, allowing them to return to their traditional environs. Those with the most suitable skills and adaptations to survive until spring will have a chance to breed and pass their vigor on to a new generation of these amazing birds.
When the ground becomes snow covered, it’s hard to imagine anything lives in the vast wide-open expanses of cropland found in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed’s fertile valleys.

Yet, there is one group of birds that can be found scrounging a living from what little exists after a season of high-intensity farming. Meet the Horned Lark.










If you decide to take a little post-storm trip to look for Horned Larks and Lapland Longspurs, be sure to drive carefully. Do your searching on quiet rural roads with minimal traffic. Stop and park only where line-of-sight and other conditions allow it to be done safely. Use your flashers and check your mirrors often. Think before you stop and park—don’t get stuck or make a muddy mess. And most important of all, be aware that you’re on a roadway—get out of the way of traffic.

If you’re not going out to look for larks and longspurs, we do have a favor to ask of you. Please remember to slow down while you’re driving. Not only is this an accident-prone time of year for people in cars and trucks, it’s a dangerous time for birds and other wildlife too. They’re at greatest peril of getting run over while concentrated along roadsides looking for food following snow storms.



I’m worried about the beaver. Here’s why.
Imagine a network of brooks and rivulets meandering through a mosaic of shrubby, sometimes boggy, marshland, purifying water and absorbing high volumes of flow during storm events. This was a typical low-gradient stream in the valleys of the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed in the days prior to the arrival of the waves of trans-Atlantic human migrants that started to inundate the area during the seventeenth century. Then, a frenzy of trapping, tree chopping, mill building, and stream channelization accompanied the east to west surge of settlement across the region. The first casualty: the indispensable lowlands manager, the North American Beaver (Castor canadensis).

Without the widespread presence of beavers, stream ecology quickly collapsed. Pristine waterways were all at once gone, as were many of their floral and faunal inhabitants. It was a streams-to-sewers saga completed in just one generation. So, if we really want to restore our creeks and rivers, maybe we need to give the North American Beaver some space and respect. After all, we as a species have yet to build an environmentally friendly dam and have yet to fully restore a wetland to its natural state. The beaver is nature’s irreplaceable silt deposition engineer and could be called the 007 of wetland construction—doomed upon discovery, it must do its work without being noticed, but nobody does it better.










Few landowners are receptive to the arrival of North American Beavers as guests or neighbors. This is indeed unfortunate. Upon discovery, beavers, like wolves, coyotes, sharks, spiders, snakes, and so many other animals, evoke an irrational negative response from the majority of people. This too is quite unfortunate, and foolish.
North American Beavers spend their lives and construct their dams, ponds, and lodges exclusively within floodplains—lands that are going to flood. Their existence should create no conflict with the day to day business of human beings. But humans can’t resist encroachment into beaver territory. Because they lack any basic understanding of floodplain function, people look at these indispensable lowlands as something that must be eliminated in the name of progress. They’ll fill them with soil, stone, rock, asphalt, concrete, and all kinds of debris. You name it, they’ll dump it. It’s an ill-fated effort to eliminate these vital areas and the high waters that occasionally inundate them. Having the audacity to believe that the threat of flooding has been mitigated, buildings and poorly engineered roads and bridges are constructed in these “reclaimed lands”. Much of the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed has now been subjected to over three hundred years-worth of these “improvements” within spaces that are and will remain—floodplains. Face it folks, they’re going to flood, no matter what we do to try to stop it. And as a matter of fact, the more junk we put into them, the more we displace flood waters into areas that otherwise would not have been impacted! It’s absolute madness.
By now we should know that floodplains are going to flood. And by now we should know that the impacts of flooding are costly where poor municipal planning and negligent civil engineering have been the norm for decades and decades. So aren’t we tired of hearing the endless squawking that goes on every time we get more than an inch of rain? Imagine the difference it would make if we backed out and turned over just one quarter or, better yet, one half of the mileage along streams in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed to North American Beavers. No more mowing, plowing, grazing, dumping, paving, spraying, or building—just leave it to the beavers. Think of the improvements they would make to floodplain function, water quality, and much-needed wildlife habitat. Could you do it? Could you overcome the typical emotional response to beavers arriving on your property and instead of issuing a death warrant, welcome them as the talented engineers they are? I’ll bet you could.

Grasshoppers are perhaps best known for the occasions throughout history when an enormous congregation of these insects—a “plague of locusts”—would assemble and rove a region to feed. These swarms, which sometimes covered tens of thousands of square miles or more, often decimated crops, darkened the sky, and, on occasion, resulted in catastrophic famine among human settlements in various parts of the world.
The largest “plague of locusts” in the United States occurred during the mid-1870s in the Great Plains. The Rocky Mountain Locust (Melanoplus spretus), a grasshopper of prairies in the American west, had a range that extended east into New England, possibly settling there on lands cleared for farming. Rocky Mountain Locusts, aside from their native habitat on grasslands, apparently thrived on fields planted with warm-season crops. Like most grasshoppers, they fed and developed most vigorously during periods of dry, hot weather. With plenty of vegetative matter to consume during periods of scorching temperatures, the stage was set for populations of these insects to explode in agricultural areas, then take wing in search of more forage. Plagues struck parts of northern New England as early as the mid-1700s and were numerous in various states in the Great Plains through the middle of the 1800s. The big ones hit between 1873 and 1877 when swarms numbering as many as trillions of grasshoppers did $200 million in crop damage and caused a famine so severe that many farmers abandoned the westward migration. To prevent recurrent outbreaks of locust plagues and famine, experts suggested planting more cool-season grains like winter wheat, a crop which could mature and be harvested before the grasshoppers had a chance to cause any significant damage. In the years that followed, and as prairies gave way to the expansive agricultural lands that presently cover most of the Rocky Mountain Locust’s former range, the grasshopper began to disappear. By the early years of the twentieth century, the species was extinct. No one was quite certain why, and the precise cause is still a topic of debate to this day. Conversion of nearly all of its native habitat to cropland and grazing acreage seems to be the most likely culprit.

In the Mid-Atlantic States, the mosaic of the landscape—farmland interspersed with a mix of forest and disturbed urban/suburban lots—prevents grasshoppers from reaching the densities from which swarms arise. In the years since the implementation of “Green Revolution” farming practices, numbers of grasshoppers in our region have declined. Systemic insecticides including neonicotinoids keep grasshoppers and other insects from munching on warm-season crops like corn and soybeans. And herbicides including 2,4-D (2,4-Dichlorophenoxyacetic acid) have, in effect, become the equivalent of insecticides, eliminating broadleaf food plants from the pasturelands and hayfields where grasshoppers once fed and reproduced in abundance. As a result, few of the approximately three dozen species of grasshoppers with ranges that include the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed are common here. Those that still thrive are largely adapted to roadsides, waste ground, and small clearings where native and some non-native plants make up their diet.
Here’s a look at four species of grasshoppers you’re likely to find in disturbed habitats throughout our region. Each remains common in relatively pesticide-free spaces with stands of dense grasses and broadleaf plants nearby.
CAROLINA GRASSHOPPER
Dissosteira carolina





DIFFERENTIAL GRASSHOPPER
Melanoplus differentialis



TWO-STRIPED GRASSHOPPER
Melanoplus bivittatus





RED-LEGGED GRASSHOPPER
Melanoplus femurrubrum




Protein-rich grasshoppers are an important late-summer, early-fall food source for birds. The absence of these insects has forced many species of breeding birds to abandon farmland or, in some cases, disappear altogether.






To pass the afternoon, we sat quietly along the edge of a pond created recently by North American Beavers (Castor canadensis). They first constructed their dam on this small stream about five years ago. Since then, a flourishing wetland has become established. Have a look.















Isn’t that amazing? North American Beavers build and maintain what human engineers struggle to master—dams and ponds that reduce pollution, allow fish passage, and support self-sustaining ecosystems. Want to clean up the streams and floodplains of your local watershed? Let the beavers do the job!

Your best bet for finding migrating shorebirds in the lower Susquehanna region is certainly a visit to a sandbar or mudflat in the river. The Conejohela Flats off Washington Boro just south of Columbia is a renowned location. Some man-made lakes including the one at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area are purposely drawn down during the weeks of fall migration to provide exposed mud and silt for feeding and resting sandpipers and plovers. But with the Susquehanna running high due to recent rains and the cost of fuel trending high as well, maybe you want to stay closer to home to do your observing.
Fortunately for us, migratory shorebirds will drop in on almost any biologically active pool of shallow water and mud that they happen to find. This includes flooded portions of fields, construction sites, and especially stormwater retention basins. We stopped by a new basin just west of Hershey, Pennsylvania, and found more than two dozen shorebirds feeding and loafing there. We took each of these photographs from the sidewalk paralleling the south shore of the pool, thus never flushing or disturbing a single bird.






So don’t just drive by those big puddles, stop and have a look. You never know what you might find.




Those mid-summer post-breeding wanders continue to delight birders throughout the Mid-Atlantic States. One colorful denizen of ponds and wetlands that has yet to put in an appearance in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed this year is the Black-bellied Whistling Duck. You might remember this species from earlier posts describing the fortieth anniversary of your editor’s journey to the Lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas. Like many other birds, the Black-bellied Whistling Duck has been extending its range north from Texas, Florida, and other states along the Gulf Coastal Plain. Populations of these waterfowl are chiefly resident birds with some short-distance movement to find suitable habitat for feeding and nesting. They are not usually migratory, so summertime wandering may be the mechanism for their discovery of new habitats advantageous for nesting in areas north of their current home.
Presently, at least two dozen Black-bellied Whistling Ducks are being seen regularly at a stormwater retention pond in a housing subdivision along Amalfi Drive west of Smyrna, Delaware. This small population of avian tourists has spent at least two summers in the area. Just yesterday, Black-bellied Whistling Ducks were seen and photographed about ten miles to the east at Bombay Hook National Wildlife Refuge. Nine were counted there while 27 were being watched simultaneously at the Amalfi site. Earlier this week, a single Black-bellied Whistling Duck visited the John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge in Philadelphia, indicating that the influx of these vagrants has transited the entire Delmarva Peninsula and entered Pennsylvania. So while you’re out watching for those first southbound migrants of the year, be on the lookout for wayward wanderers too—wanderers like Black-bellied Whistling Ducks!




Have you purchased your 2023-2024 Federal Duck Stamp? Nearly every penny of the 25 dollars you spend for a duck stamp goes toward habitat acquisition and improvements for waterfowl and the hundreds of other animal species that use wetlands for breeding, feeding, and as migration stopover points. Duck stamps aren’t just for hunters, purchasers get free admission to National Wildlife Refuges all over the United States. So do something good for conservation—stop by your local post office and get your Federal Duck Stamp.

Still not convinced that a Federal Duck Stamp is worth the money? Well then, follow along as we take a photo tour of Bombay Hook National Wildlife Refuge. Numbers of southbound shorebirds are on the rise in the refuge’s saltwater marshes and freshwater pools, so we timed a visit earlier this week to coincide with a late-morning high tide.
































As the tide recedes, shorebirds leave the freshwater pools to begin feeding on the vast mudflats exposed within the saltwater marshes. Most birds are far from view, but that won’t stop a dedicated observer from finding other spectacular creatures on the bay side of the tour route road.












No visit to Bombay Hook is complete without at least a quick loop through the upland habitats at the far end of the tour route.









We hope you’ve been convinced to visit Bombay Hook National Wildlife Refuge sometime soon. And we hope too that you’ll help fund additional conservation acquisitions and improvements by visiting your local post office and buying a Federal Duck Stamp.
The gasoline and gunpowder gang’s biggest holiday of the year has arrived yet again. Where does all the time go?
In observance of this festive occasion, we’ve decided to take a look at all the stuff that’s floating around in the atmosphere before all the motor travel, celebratory fires, and exciting explosions get underway.
We’ll start with the smoke from wildfires in Canada…



If you think that smoke accounts for all the particulate matter now obscuring skies in the northern half of the western hemisphere, then have a gander at this…

As you can see, natural processes are currently providing a plentiful load of particulates in our skies. There’s no real need to aggravate yourself and the situation by sitting in traffic or burning your groceries on the barbecue. And you can let those cult-like homeowner chores for later. After all, running the mower, whacker, and blower will only add to the airborne pollutants. While celebrating this Fourth of July, why risk mangling fingers on your throwing hand or catching the neighbor’s house on fire when you could just relax and quietly eat ice cream or watermelon? Yeah, that’s more like it.
Here’s a look at some native plants you can grow in your garden to really help wildlife in late spring and early summer.






Watch the cloud on the move—click here for a GIF animation of this image.
Are you worried about your well running dry this summer? Are you wondering if your public water supply is going to implement use restrictions in coming months? If we do suddenly enter a wet spell again, are you concerned about losing valuable rainfall to flooding? A sensible person should be curious about these issues, but here in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed, we tend to take for granted the water we use on a daily basis.
This Wednesday, June 7, you can learn more about the numerous measures we can take, both individually and as a community, to recharge our aquifers while at the same time improving water quality and wildlife habitat in and around our streams and rivers. From 5:30 to 8:00 P.M., the Chiques Creek Watershed Alliance will be hosting its annual Watershed Expo at the Manheim Farm Show grounds adjacent to the Manheim Central High School in Lancaster County. According to the organization’s web page, more than twenty organizations will be there with displays featuring conservation, aquatic wildlife, stream restoration, Honey Bees, and much more. There will be games and custom-made fish-print t-shirts for the youngsters, plus music to relax by for those a little older. Look for rain barrel painting and a rain barrel giveaway. And you’ll like this—admission and ice cream are free. Vendors including food trucks will be onsite preparing fare for sale.
And there’s much more.
To help recharge groundwater supplies, you can learn how to infiltrate stormwater from your downspouts, parking area, or driveway…


…there will be a tour of a comprehensive stream and floodplain rehabilitation project in Manheim Memorial Park adjacent to the fair grounds…




…and a highlight of the evening will be using an electrofishing apparatus to collect a sample of the fish now populating the rehabilitated segment of stream…

…so don’t miss it. We can hardly wait to see you there!
The 2023 Watershed Expo is part of Lancaster Conservancy Water Week.
Back in late May of 1983, four members of the Lancaster County Bird Club—Russ Markert, Harold Morrrin, Steve Santner, and your editor—embarked on an energetic trip to find, observe, and photograph birds in the Lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas. What follows is a daily account of that two-week-long expedition. Notes logged by Markert some four decades ago are quoted in italics. The images are scans of 35 mm color slide photographs taken along the way by your editor.
DAY SEVEN—May 27, 1983
“Bentsen State Park”
“6 A.M. alarm rang. After breakfast we walked an hour or more. At 8:15 we phoned Father Tom for more information. We next went back to Anzalduas County Park in hopes of seeing a Hook-billed Kite. It is now 11:30 and NO luck. Steve got his first lifer — Red-billed Pigeon. We parked on a dirt dike and they went walking. I took a nap.”
Based on new tips from Father Tom, we had back-tracked east along the Rio Grande to look for Hook-billed Kite, Red-billed Pigeon (Patagioenas flavirostris), and other species before continuing west toward Falcon Dam in coming days. The pigeon was yet another specialty with a range that extends north from Central America into the subtropical riparian forests of the Lower Rio Grande Valley.
Anzalduas County Park is located along the Rio Grande at the Anzalduas Diversion Dam, part of a network of flood control projects initiated in the 1930s to reign in the “untamed river”. Construction on this particular dam began in 1956 and was completed in 1960. Operation of diversion and flood control dams on the Rio Grande has functionally eliminated stream meander along its present course, thus the delta that is the Lower Rio Grande Valley will cease to experience the morphological changes that create wetlands, resacas, and other natural features in the floodplain. Thought to be excellent ideas at the time, most of these projects were based on a blurred vision of the connection between streams, their floodplains, and the watershed’s aquifer. This condition has manifested itself as a blindness to the finite nature of water supplies, particular where consumption rates are still sharply rising while groundwater recharge is diminishing.

In addition to the Red-billed Pigeon, we found Brown-headed Cowbirds at Anzalduas County Park. Flying over the adjacent reservoir/river there were Caspian Terns. We identified some turtles too—Red-eared Sliders.

“After my nap, I took pictures of the place and of the men coming back. Then to the McAllen Sewage Ponds where we had some luck — Eared Grebe and others.”
The McAllen Sewage Ponds were like a little oasis for waterbirds. Though not a specialty of the Lower Rio Grande Valley, the Eared Grebe (Podiceps nigricollis) was a western species we were happy to have seen. A Gulf Coast species, Mottled Duck (Anas fulvigula), was another welcome find. Other sightings included Least Grebe, 100 Ruddy Ducks, Northern Shoveler, Mallard, Black-bellied Whistling Duck, American Coot, Common Gallinule, Spotted Sandpiper, White-faced Ibis (Plegadis chihi), Black-necked Stilt, Franklin’s Gull, Least Tern (Sternula antillarum), Scissor-tailed Flycatcher, Great-tailed Grackle, and Bronzed Cowbird.
Swimming around in the McAllen Sewage Ponds was a Nutria (Myocastor coypus), also known as the Coypu, a mammal resembling a giant muskrat—remember, things really are bigger in Texas.
“Next to the Time Out Camp Ground to check with a couple I met in February. They had moved, their space was empty. Back to Bentsen State Park. On the way we bought a watermelon for supper’s dessert. Rain almost all P.M. Raining now 8:00 P.M. Before supper we checked again for the Tropical Parula with no luck. The watermelon was very good for dessert.”
Details received this morning from Father Tom suggested we check the area of the Bentsen Rio Grande Valley State Park campground near a large Spanish Moss-draped tree for the nesting Tropical Parulas. I don’t recall what kind of tree it was, but the paved road circled the area surrounding it indicating that those who had designed the campground had purposely preserved this massive specimen as something unique. Despite its prominence, no sights or sounds of the Tropical Parulas were found. We reached the conclusion that we were a little late; they were gone for the year. To soothe our sorrows, we ate watermelon—very refreshing!