The I'On Swamp

Nestled away in the southern reaches of South Carolina’s Francis Marion National Forest lies a swamp with a long and storied history. This forested wetland—the I’On Swamp—lies on the upper reaches of the Wando River, a tributary to the Cooper River and ultimately the Charleston Bay. I visited the I’On Swamp back in October with the intent to hike a short interpretive trail, look for some reptiles, and otherwise see an area I had often heard about. The I’On Swamp is truly an alluring site with a fascinating history with regard to geology, biology, and human history. When I tried to learn more about the history and nature of this swamp, I quickly learned that there are many bits and pieces of information scattered across the internet, but it was hard to find a more encompassing article on the swamp. With this post, I hope to weave together these bits and pieces into a story on how humans utilized and modified the I'On Swamp throughout history, and how this utilization and modification impacted three now-extinct species of birds which used to inhabit the swamp.

Geological Setting

The story of the I’On Swamp begins long ago when a series of complex geological processes took place that ultimately led to the formation of this southern freshwater swamp. Due to both uplifting forces in eastern North America and periodic sea level rises and falls driven by glacial cycles, the Atlantic Ocean receded from the coast of what is now South Carolina in a series of “steps”. Each time the ocean receded from the then-current coast of South Carolina, a new shoreline and a new barrier island system were consequently formed. As this new shoreline and new barrier island system were formed, the previous shoreline and barrier island system would be left high and dry on the mainland. This step-like process led to the creation of a series of scarps and terraces. Essentially, a scarp is a narrow, but long, hill formed from the old sand dune system that was present on what used to be the barrier island system, while a terrace is a flat, slightly sloping area behind the scarp that used to be both the back half of the barrier island as well as the shallow marshes and/or lagoons behind the island.

Figured modified from "Revision of the Pleistocene Dorchester and Summerville Scarps, the inland limits of the Penholoway Terrace, central South Carolina," by W.R. Doar and Ralph Willoughby (South Carolina DNR Geological Survey).

One of these step-like coastal recessions occurred around 85,000 years ago. This specific recession formed the Mount Pleasant Scarp and the Princess Anne Terrace, and these formations bring us to the geological context for the I’On Swamp. Because the Atlantic Ocean receded in a step-like pattern along the South Carolina coast, a series of repeating scarp-terrace-scarp-terrace-scarp formation were created. Subsequently, each low-lying terrace was bound on its east and west sides by a higher scarp. (If you want to really dive into this topic, I suggest reading “Geneticstratigraphy and geochronology of last interglacial shorelines on the central coast of South Carolina" by Russell Willis) In the case of the Princess Anne Terrace, to the west was the Awendaw Scarp and to the east was the Mount Pleasant Scarp, both of which were higher in elevation than the terrace itself. Because of the resulting U-shaped depression, water collected in the Princess Anne Terrace, forming a wetland. After the last ice age ended, and the temperatures in the area warmed, plants and animals that are characteristic of a southern freshwater swamp emigrated into this wetland, forming the original primeval I’On Swamp. This swamp went on to form the headwaters of the Wando River, which drains the southern half of the Princess Anne Terrace.

Human History and Land Use

For the majority of the past several thousand years, this area had been a mature swamp forest. Swamps are a type of wetland which are dominated by trees and are either permanently or seasonally flooded. Ivory-Billed Woodpeckers, American Alligators, River Otters, and a whole host of other animals lived throughout this old-growth swamp. The area was not devoid of humans, however. In fact, Native Americans first began inhabiting South Carolina around 9,000 to 10,000 years ago. Around 3,500 years ago, tribes began to form more permanent settlements along the coast of South Carolina right near the I’On Swamp, which is itself only about five miles from the Atlantic Ocean. It is important to note that these native peoples did impact and modify the land, including the I’On Swamp. The idea of Native Americans “living alongside the land” is a bit of a misconception. We now know that Native Americans did indeed alter the land to benefit them, just not as on a large-scale manner as people do nowadays.

The greatest environmental impact from the Native Americans in this region stemmed from their use of fire. Natural wildfires—ones started through lightning strikes—historically occurred frequently throughout the Lowcountry of South Carolina, with many habitats in the Lowcountry being dependent on such wildfires. Some habitats, such as Longleaf Pine savannas, experienced natural fires as often as 1-5 years. Swamps like the I’On Swamp, however, experienced natural fires once every 25-100 years. In addition to the natural wildfires which occurred throughout the Lowcountry, many fires were also started by the Native Americans living in the region. These native peoples made ample use of low-intensity burns to both open the understory for easier to travel and make the areas more conducive for hunting, among other reasons. There is no doubt that low-intensity fires started by the native peoples impacted the I’On Swamp prior to European settlement.

European exploration of the South Carolina coastal areas began in the 1500’s, but it wasn’t until the mid-1600’s that European settlers emigrated to the region in significant numbers. In 1670, British settlers established a city called Charles Town only 20 miles southwest of the I’On Swamp. Charles Town—which we now know as Charleston—rapidly grew. This rapid growth led to other colonists moving out from Charleston to settle the surrounding land. The area immediately around the I’On Swamp itself began to be earnestly settled in the 1690’s.

It was around this time that the economy of coastal South Carolina began transitioning from one dominated by fur trading to one dominated by rice cultivation. From 1700-1860, rice was the crop to grow in coastal South Carolina. Rice cultivation became the dominant force that impacted the I’On and other nearby swamps during this period, and the effects can still be seen today.

Before I dive into how rice cultivation changed the landscape of the I’On Swamp, I want to briefly talk about rice cultivation in the Carolinas. While researching articles for this topic, I relied heavily on Dr. Hayden Smith’s Ph.D dissertation entitled “Rich Swamps and Rice Grounds: The Specialization of Inland Rice Culture in the South Carolina Lowcountry, 1670-1861.” This dissertation was fascinating to read, and is very approachable for those (like me) without any real background knowledge in the topic. If you’re interested in this sort of historical subject, I highly recommend reading the piece, which you can find at this link.

There are two main types of domesticated rice in the world—Asian Rice (Oryza sativa) and African Rice (Oryza glaberrima). The rice we eat today are cultivars of Asian Rice, but the rice that was grown in the colonial United States was most likely a cultivar of African Rice, specifically a cultivar called Carolina Gold. African Rice was originally brought to the Carolina colonies by European explorers and traders that traveled to Africa. When rice cultivation in the Carolinas began expanding in the early to mid 1700's, the colonists started to utilize enslaved peoples from Africa to work the rice fields. There were two main reasons for this. First, the colonists needed more people for labor, and African slaves were sadly a horrific way to satisfy this need. Second, many of these enslaved peoples came from the Senegambia and Sierra Leone regions of West Africa. The peoples of West Africa had been practicing rice cultivation for nearly 2,000 years, and during this time they had developed a very efficient method for growing the rice using dikes and flooded fields. Enslaved African peoples brought with them this knowledge of rice cultivation, which was then implemented in the Carolina Lowcountry.

There were two main methods of rice cultivation in the Carolina Lowcountry—tidal rice cultivation and inland rice cultivation. As the name suggests, tidal rice cultivation relied on the tides, which moved water in and out of impounded rice fields near the ocean via canals. Inland rice cultivation, on the other hand, relied on gravity. Inland rice plantations utilized the principle that water flows downhill from higher elevations to lower elevations. Due to the location of the I’On Swamp, tides were not a factor in the movement of water. Consequently, plantations in the I’On Swamp utilized the inland rice cultivation method.

A 200+ year old Wythewood Plantation canal along the I'On Swamp Interpretive Trail.

Here is a very brief overview of how the inland rice cultivation process worked in the swamps of the Carolina Lowcountry. The enslaved peoples would first clear the land of trees and shrubs by using fire, axes, and saws. After the land was clear, they would then build elaborate earthen dikes that channeled and controlled the water found within the swamp. A reservoir would first be created at the highest elevations within an area (which might have been only a mere 3-6 feet higher than the “low” parts of the surrounding swamp). Impounded fields where the rice would grow would then be created at the middle or lower elevations. Finally, canals and channels would be created to connect the reservoir to the rice fields, and the rice fields to the natural creeks and rivers throughout the swampland. At each point where one section met another, a rice trunk—which are essentially watertight gates/valves—would be installed that could either be opened or closed. If the rice fields needed to be flooded, they would open rice trunks on the reservoir dam and allow the water to flow downhill through channels and into the rice fields. If the rice fields needed to be drained, rice trunks at the lowest points of the fields would be opened, allowing the water to flow out of the fields and into channels leading to a creek or river.

As you can see, changing a mature swamp to a rice plantation alters not only the vegetation of a swamp, but the entire landscape as well. This level of landscape modification would wreak havoc on the ecology of an area like the I’On Swamp. Some animals or plants undoubtedly benefited due to the change from dense swamp forest to a more open marshland—say, for example, some species of migrating shorebirds or waterfowl—but the overall impact was negative for the majority of the species that were originally present.

The peripheries of the I’On Swamp experienced development for rice cultivation as early as the 1750’s, if not a bit earlier. At this time, the swamp was known as the Wappetaw Swamp. “Wappetaw” was a Sewee Indian term meaning “Sweet Water,” and was a name that tribe had given the swamp. From the 1790’s to the 1810’s, more and more plantations popped up in the area, many of which were pushing further and further into the swamp. At the same time, several of the richer plantation owners in the area began buying out some of the smaller plantations to consolidate land. They did this to both expand their rice production and—perhaps most importantly—gain more thorough control of the water for their fields.

As this consolidation occurred, a few “big name” plantations that controlled thousands of acres formed. These were the Fairlawn Plantation in the southern portion of the swamp, the Wythewood Plantation in the northwestern portion, and the Clayfield Plantation in the eastern portion. The early owner of the Clayfield Plantation was Jacob Bond I’On, which is where the current name for the swamp stems from. From what I could gather, most people called this swamp the Wappetaw Swamp during the 1700’s and 1800’s, and the name didn’t transition to the I’On Swamp until the 1900’s. As an interesting aside, this part of the Lowcountry spoke non-rhotic English in the 1700's and early 1800's, meaning that people born and raised in this region did not pronounce the "R" sound in words. Jacob Bond I'On's last name is actually a modification of the name "Iron." This name was modified to reflect how people were pronouncing the name, and the spelling stuck, both with the I'On family, but also the I'On Swamp.

Old Wythewood Plantation rice dike (the "trail" running through the right side of the photo).

By the mid 1800’s, essentially all of the I’On Swamp had been modified for rice cultivation. However, that isn’t to say that all the land had been turned into rice fields. There were probably still pockets of young, secondary growth swamp forest in places that had originally been logged in order build canals and dikes, but that were not ultimately used as a rice field. When the Civil War broke out in 1861, the rice industry in the south collapsed. Essentially all the commercial rice cultivation in the I’On Swamp ceased by 1870. Although commercial production ceased after the Civil War, subsistence rice production by now-freed African Americans continued in small tracts around the I’On Swamp for the next 30 years, most prominently in what had been the Wythewood Plantation—a plantation which will come into play later on in this story.

The forest began to regrow in any part of the swamp which were not being used for subsistence farming during this post-Civil War period. Hardwood trees characteristic of southern bottomland forests—various oaks, tupelos, Sweetgum, etc.—began recolonizing the abandoned fields and dikes. By 1900, essentially all of the I’On Swamp was reforested by a young, secondary growth forest. This extensive tract of hardwood trees was quickly noticed by a booming southeastern timber industry. Between 1900 and 1910, a large timber company bought most of the old plantation lands in the I'On Swamp. By 1920-1925, this company had clear-cut nearly all the trees throughout the I’On Swamp.  

Various hardwood species regrowing in the I'On Swamp.

After timber companies clear-cut the I’On Swamp and nearby swamps such as the Wambaw and Hellhole Swamps, the land “lost its value,” at least in the eyes of the timber companies. The government, however, saw some promise, and the Department of the Interior began purchasing these tracts of land starting in the late 1920’s. These newly-purchased lands became the foundation for Francis Marion National Forest, which was formally established in 1936. Nowadays, the majority of the coastal land between Charleston and Georgetown is part of this national forest, and that includes most of the I’On Swamp itself.

For the rest of this post, I want to focus on the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, Carolina Parakeet, and the Bachman’s Warbler. These three species—all of which are now extinct—used to inhabit swamps throughout the southeastern United States, including the I’On Swamp itself. Sadly, most of the swamps in the southeastern United States have been heavily modified or completely destroyed by humans over the past 300 years, and these actions have either directly or indirectly led to the extinction of these three bird species. I want to explore how human land use of the I’On Swamp over time impacted these three birds, and how and why they became extirpated (locally extinct) in the I’On Swamp.

Ivory-Billed Woodpecker

John James Audubon Letters and Drawings, 1805-1892, MS Am 21 (31), Houghton Library, Harvard University

I’ll begin with the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, as this was the first species to become extirpated in the I’On Swamp. The Ivory-Billed Woodpecker required mature bottomland swamps, a habitat that used to exist in large tracts across much of the southeast. In the 1800’s, especially after the Civil War, the majority of these virgin swamps were either logged, drained, or in some other way modified. With the destruction of the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker’s habitat, the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker’s populations followed.

The Ivory-Billed was known to be common throughout the swamps in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, and they most certainly inhabited the I’On Swamp for hundreds, if not several thousands, of years. Their time in the I’On Swamp probably came to an end between 1750 and 1770 when the swamp experienced the first wave of logging and modification to make way for rice fields. From historical and contemporary accounts that I’ve read on the plantations of the I’On Swamp, there were a few sections of the swamp forest that remained relatively unscathed during this early agricultural time. It’s possible that these tracts could have harbored a few individuals into the mid 1800’s, but these tracts were most likely too small for a population of Ivory-Bills to sustain itself.

Topographic map of eastern Francis Marion National Forest with the names of main swamps added in. For a greater geographical context, just past the bottom left hand corner is the Charleston, SC, area, and outside the top right corner is Georgetown, SC. This map was modified from a USGS Topographic Map.

The last confirmed Ivory-Billed Woodpecker in South Carolina was observed in 1938 on Wadmacon Island. Wadmacon Island is an island in the lower Santee Swamp (which runs along the Santee River), and is only a mere 20 miles north of the I’On Swamp. Although Ivory-Bills were without a doubt gone by 1915 from the I’On Swamp itself (which, if you remember from earlier, was completely clear-cut by this point), a few individuals did indeed remain in the greater region in the few pockets of remaining mature bottomland swamps. The last confirmed sighting in the United States occurred in 1944 in Louisiana. By the late 1900’s, it was generally assumed the Ivory-Billed was extinct.

The Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, however, recently jumped back into the public eye after a handful of credible, but not 100% confirmed, sightings from Louisiana, Arkansas, and Florida came to light in the early 2000’s. This raised the question as to whether the Ivory-Billed was truly extinct, or if tiny populations remained in remote and relatively untouched bottomland swamps around the Southeast. Sadly, even if the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker is not truly extinct, and a few individuals are indeed still alive in one or a handful of swamps around the Southeastern US, the species is still functionally extinct. Any such population—if one were to truly exist—would be too small to be viable over the long term.

Carolina Parakeet

Painting by John James Audubon, 1825, New York Historical Society.

The Carolina Parakeet was the second species to become extirpated from the I’On Swamp. The Carolina Parakeet—the only parrot species that was native to the Eastern US—was a denizen of mature swamps and forested floodplains filled with either American Sycamores or Bald-Cypresses. The Carolina Parakeet used to be quite common throughout the appropriate habitat in the 1700’s, but their populations began plummeting in the early 1800’s. The exact causes for the decline and ultimate extinction of the Carolina Parakeet are still debated, but most agree it was probably a combination of several factors. Habitat destruction via logging, unchecked hunting to attain their colorful feathers, unchecked hunting by farmers who viewed them as pests, and other factors all contributed to the decline and eventual demise of the Carolina Parakeet.

Carolina Parakeets living in the I’On Swamp probably began facing trouble in the late 1700’s, as the mature Bald-Cypress trees—whose cavities they nested in—throughout the swamp were cleared to make way for the rice plantation fields. When did they most likely disappear from the I’On Swamp? Although I can’t find any specific reports of this species from the swamp, I would say that the Carolina Parakeet was most likely extirpated from the I’On Swamp by 1810-1840 based on two details. First, many naturalists noted that Carolina Parakeet sightings were rarely made outside of Florida by the 1850’s, which suggests that most of the populations in South Carolina were probably gone by the early 1800’s. Second, most of the I’On Swamp was already intensely farmed for rice by 1820-1830, which means that most, if not all, of the appropriate Carolina Parakeet habitat was gone. No Carolina Parakeet habitat, no Carolina Parakeets.

By 1904, the last known wild individual was observed—and promptly killed. The year 1918 saw the death of the last captive individual. By 1939, the species was declared officially extinct, although tantalizing reports of Carolina Parakeets trickled in from Florida, Georgia and South Carolina between 1930 and 1960. The Santee Swamp was one site of such reports, with a handful of unconfirmed sightings of Carolina Parakeets inhabiting the dense, relatively untouched swamp were made throughout the 1930’s. If you remember, this is the same swamp which harbored Ivory-Billed Woodpeckers into the 1930’s, and is only 20 miles north of the I’On Swamp as well. Several credible people, such as bird wardens hired by the National Audubon Society, reported seeing Carolina Parakeets in the Santee Swamp, including on Wadmacon Island (the same island where the last confirmed Ivory-Billed Woodpecker in South Carolina was observed). Although these sightings were never confirmed, the existence of a small, remnant population of Carolina Parakeets existing into the 1930’s in the Santee Swamp seems plausible. Despite such thoughts, they are certainly extinct now.

Bachman’s Warbler

Painting by John James Audubon, 1833, Reynolda House: Museum of American Art.

The final species I want to discuss is perhaps the reason why the I’On Swamp is famous in the world of birders and naturalists. The I’On Swamp was the last known refuge for the Bachman’s Warbler. The Bachman’s (Pronounced “Back-Man’s”) Warbler was a small migrant songbird which bred in swamps throughout the Southeastern United States and overwintered in Cuba.

The Bachman’s Warbler was always a mysterious and hard-to-find species. It was first described by John James Audubon in 1833 when an individual was discovered in South Carolina. Over the next few decades, more individuals were recorded in other southern states, but the species seemingly disappeared from South Carolina. The Bachman’s Warbler was rediscovered in South Carolina by Arthur T. Wayne, a Victorian ornithologist, in 1901. The individual that Wayne found had been inhabiting the remnants of the Fairlawn Plantation, one of the old rice plantations found on the southern end of the I’On Swamp. As an aside, Arthur T. Wayne lived an absolutely fascinating life filled with ornithological endeavors. I highly recommend reading this short, 6-page biography on the man.

Wayne, who lived in the Charleston area, began systematically searching for more Bachman’s Warblers in the I’On Swamp, specifically throughout the old Fairlawn Plantation property. In 1906 he found two nests, providing evidence that the warbler did indeed breed in the I’On Swamp, and didn’t just use the swamp as a migration stopover. Over the next several years, he found many more individuals and nests.

As I said, the Bachman’s Warbler was always hard to find, and its ecology is rather misunderstood. There have been no actual studies ever done on this species prior to its extinction. Everything we know comes from naturalists in the 1800’s and early 1900’s who thankfully recorded bits and pieces of information on the species—whether it was the habitat one was found in, or the behavior of an individual, or what have you.

The last confirmed sighting of a Bachman’s Warbler was in 1988, and the species is almost certainly extinct. The cause for the extinction of the species has been subject to debate, and several hypotheses have been put forth about “the cause.” Nearly everyone agrees the Bachman’s Warbler went extinct due to habitat destruction, but no one knows what type of habitat the warbler exactly required. The Bachman’s Warbler vanished before any thorough studies of its habitat requirements could be conducted. The little habitat information we do have is confusing and contradictory, which further complicates matters. For example, some naturalists found the Bachman’s Warblers in mature swamp forests; others found it in young, successional swamp forests. If habitat destruction was the killer of the Bachman’s Warbler, what specific habitat feature was destroyed that the Bachman’s Warbler relied on?

Although Bachman’s Warblers had been recorded in mature swamp forests, it seems unlikely that they depended on such a habitat like the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker did. Between 1948 and 1953, there were many Bachman’s Warblers observed throughout the I’On Swamp, which—if you remember—was all but a young, secondary-growth swamp forest at that time after the period of intense logging between 1900-1920. The prevalence of the Bachman’s Warbler in the I’On Swamp when it was a young, secondary-growth swamp forest has made some scientists hypothesize that the species relied on disturbed, successional areas within swamps, similar to how the Blue-Winged Warbler and Prairie Warbler rely on similarly disturbed, successional areas within forests.

Drier areas within the I'On Swamp—like the area pictured above—would have been the site of extensive Giant Cane "canebrakes." Nowadays, such extensive canebrakes have vanished.

The apparent fact that Bachman’s Warblers could be found in both mature and successional swamp forests suggests that there was some other habitat component or feature that they relied on, and not simply the age of the forest. In 1986, J.V. Remsen Jr. published an article in the Auk that argued the Bachman’s Warbler was actually a bamboo specialist. Throughout the Southeastern US there’s a species of bamboo called Giant Cane (Arundinaria gigantea). Giant Cane used to be extremely prevalent throughout the swamps of the southeast, many times forming near-impenetrable understories called "canebrakes" which would go on for miles in swamps. Over the most recent 300 years, approximately 98% of these canebrakes were cut down or otherwise destroyed, as they proved a barrier to farmers and travelers. Sadly, Giant Cane is a finicky, slow-growing plant with a low reproduction rate, and the remaining individuals have been unable to fully recolonize the sites of former canebrakes. Although you can still find Giant Cane today, as well as dense canebrakes, these are nowhere near as dense and extensive as they once were.

What does that have to with the Bachman’s Warbler? As it turns out, most of the notes that naturalists recorded on the habitat of the Bachman’s Warbler mentioned the presence of Giant Cane. This is even more prevalent when reading descriptions of where nests were found; nearly all of them mention the nests being either in Giant Cane plants, or being in the same vicinity of Giant Cane. Many of their nests even contained leaves from Giant Cane. This suggests that the Bachman’s Warbler might have been a bamboo specialist, a niche that many birds across the world utilize. If this is true, then it makes sense that the Bachman’s Warbler disappeared as the Giant Cane canebrakes became less and less extensive throughout the Southeast.

Is the decline of Giant Cane the sole reason for the extinction of the Bachman’s Warbler? Probably not. Although it might be the main contributor to the destruction of the species, other factors probably exacerbated the decline. The destruction of swamps across the southeast, the destruction of their wintering habitats in Cuba, and potentially unknown factors might have all helped drive the Bachman’s Warbler to extinction.

The I’On Swamp Today  

Visiting the I’On Swamp today can be a difficult endeavor. The swamp is large, and only a few gravel and dirt roads allow access. Only one trail exists in the whole of the swamp. That trail—the 2.5 mile I’On Swamp Interpretive Trail—is part of the Francis Marion National Forest trail system. The I’On Swamp Interpretive Trail offers the easiest way for visitors to get “into” the swamp, but—at only 2.5 miles—it allows visitors a tiny glimpse of the swamp. Short of bushwhacking through the swamp, the trail is the best choice visitors have to see the swamp.

Nearly the entirety of the I’On Swamp Interpretive Trail runs atop ancient dikes that once belonged to the Wythewood Plantation, one of the main rice plantations that used to call the swamp home. As you walk along the nearly 300-year-old dikes, you can’t help but marvel at the engineering feat they represent. At the same time, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sorrow when you realize that enslaved peoples from Africa were the ones who toiled away to make these extensive dikes. The colonial and early American rice industry was the second most dangerous industry for enslaved peoples to find themselves part of, second only to the sugar cane industry. Between the harsh owners, never-ending work, the oppressive heat of the Carolina Lowcountry, rampant diseases, and dangerous wildlife, being a rice plantation slave was an absolutely brutal, and many times short, affair. Injuries and deaths were commonplace. The mortality rate of enslaved peoples working on rice plantations is mind-numbing to consider. At some rice plantations, almost 90% of children died before they reached 16 years old. Many adults did not make it past 30. The profit margins on rice were so high that an enslaved person only had to work for one season for the owner to make back the cost of the slave, so slaves were viewed as a highly dispensable commodity. Although this mentality seems unfathomable today, it was sadly common throughout the Lowcountry in the 1700’s and 1800’s.

Today the I’On Swamp looks like a very young, secondary growth swamp forest. When Hurricane Hugo slammed South Carolina in 1989, the winds knocked down essentially all of the trees in the eastern section of Francis Marion NF, including the I'On Swamp. Consequently, most of the I'On Swamp's forest is only 28 years old. Despite the young age, the forest is still impressive. Dwarf Palmettos cover the ground. Red Maples and Black Tupelos take hold in the drier areas. Bald-Cypresses dot the wetter areas, where their knees jut up through the shallow, tannin-stained water. Alligators bask along the banks of the ancient dikes, and River Otters swim through the canals. The place feels natural on the surface, but—while it is still natural to a certain extent, true—the I’On Swamp is scarred. Animals which should call the swamp home are forever gone. Plants which should be easily found throughout the swamp are uncommon and nowhere near as extensive as they used to be. The water flows in unnatural channels and canals, separated by earthen banks that shouldn’t be there. The landscape has been forever changed, and a sorrow hangs in the air—not only because the land will never be as it once was, but also because so many lives were unnecessarily lost here.

Despite the scars, the I’On Swamp is nevertheless a fascinating place. Go visit the swamp if you’re in the Lowcountry of South Carolina. Walk along the ancient rice field dikes as you travel through the swamp forest. Look for animals and plants, and enjoy the landscape. But while you do, don’t forget to take a few moments to reflect on all the history bound up in this swamp.

The Cottonmouth

From December 27th, 2015, to January 4th, 2016, I took a solo road trip to South Carolina and the Great Smoky Mountains in North Carolina and Tennessee. I traveled 2060 miles total, and saw a great deal of amazing things. I'm slowly moving through photos, but I've decided to make my first post about one of the most exciting lifers I had over the trip: the Cottonmouth. The Cottonmouth, also commonly known as the Water Moccasin, is a much-maligned snake species. There's many myths and just plain misinformation surrounding this interesting species, and this post will hopefully bring some truth to the matter.

On December 29th, I traveled from my campsite in Francis Marion National Forest to the nearby Hampton Plantation State Park, one of the many state parks in South Carolina. As you might have guessed from the name, Hampton Plantation SP is an old plantation. As with many old plantations in South Carolina, the Hampton Plantation specialized in rice. Rice is grown in shallow ponds, and so a series of such ponds were dug out by slaves here at the Hampton Plantation in the first half of the 1800's. Water from the nearby Hampton Creek was used to flood the ponds, and a series of levees throughout the flooded fields were used to control water levels. Rice is no longer grown at the Hampton Plantation, and these flooded fields have reverted to a swamp along the Hampton Creek. And with that reversion, various organisms that live in swamps have returned. One of these organisms is the venomous Cottonmouth, Agkistrodon piscivorus, pictured above.

The range of the Cottonmouth.

The Cottonmouth is a snake of the southern Atlantic coastal plain and the lower Mississippi River basin. Now, one of the biggest snake-related myths that I hear throughout Ohio is that the Cottonmouth (AKA Water Moccasin) can be found in Ohio. This is completely untrue. The Cottonmouth can be found nowhere in Ohio. Regardless of what anyone might say, the Cottonmouth's range just doesn't extend into Ohio. There has been 1 record of a Cottonmouth in Ohio, but the story isn't what it seems at first glance. A Cottonmouth was once found on a shipping boat on the Ohio River while within the state borders. This ship had just come from southern Illinois where the Cottonmouth can be found, and one individual had stowed away on the ship to rest and was unknowingly transported to Ohio. However, since the snake naturally climbed onto the ship, the record technically counts.

The Cottonmouth, as you might know, is a venomous snake. This brings me to a slight tangent: the snake is venomous, not poisonous. There is a difference between the two. If a creature injects a dangerous substance into you, then that creature is venomous. If a creature is poisonous, however, that means that a dangerous substance on or within a creature must be ingested for it to take effect. An easier way to put it is "If it bites you and you die, it is venomous; if you bite it and you die, it is poisonous." For example, a Cottonmouth is venomous while a Monarch is poisonous. Although highly uncommon, it is possible for an organism to be both venomous and poisonous at the same time though; for example, the Asian Tiger Snake, Rhabdophis tigrinus, is both at the same time (it has fangs which can inject a venom, but also secretes a poison it obtains from eating certain poisonous toads).

Anyway, the Cottonmouth is indeed dangerous, however they don't pose a threat to a cautious human aware of their surroundings. Although they are supposed to be highly aggressive (which is a myth), Cottonmouths, like all venomous snakes (and snakes in general), prefer to not attack anything they deem a threat. There's a few reasons for this. When a snake goes to bite you, it risks breaking a fang/tooth, which can lead to a much harder time obtaining food. Also, by biting any sort of animal, a snake opens itself up to being attack, and possibly killed, out of defense. When the ultimate goal of life is passing on your genetics as much as possible, dying is obviously something to avoid. In addition, when it comes to venomous snakes, venom is expensive to produce energy-wise. They use this venom to hunt, and therefore they want to conserve venom (and therefore energy) and use it only when needed. Needlessly wasting venom when it could just slither away is a silly choice for a snake to make.

So, when would a snake bite then? Generally speaking, a snake will bite when it feels that its life is in immediate danger from you, and that the only way to escape this danger is to try and fight the threat off. It is important to note that the biting threshold varies not only from species to species, but also from individual to individual. Regardless, picking a snake up, poking it, stepping on it, attempting to move it, and other such actions usually push the snake past that threshold, and a snake will be very apt to bite from then on out. When it comes to the Cottonmouth, one study found that they would essentially only bite if they were picked up with a mechanical hand. If you give a snake space, and let it have obvious means of escape, then it will simply leave you alone. This includes Cottonmouths.

Cottonmouths also have another line of defense. The name "Cottonmouth" stems from their threat display; when confronted by a potential threat, they open their mouth to reveal a startling-white inner-covering. This white stands out in stark contrast to the browns and greens of the vegetation which you might see them among. It's meant to not only catch your attention, but to also suggest that it's a dangerous creature and not one to mess with. Essentially, the potential threat (in this case me) is supposed to think that this snake wouldn't obviously expose itself unless it had a good way to protect itself. It's the same principle as the brightly-colored Monarch, a poisonous butterfly.

I was a few feet away from him taking photos as he did his threat display. Eventually he realized that I didn't pose an immediate threat, and he slowly closed his mouth while still eyeing me closely.

He then decided to explosively leave the scene and slither into the nearby water. The Cottonmouth, a semi-aquatic snake, is at home in nearly all types of freshwater habitats throughout much of the Southeast. They can be found most commonly in heavily-vegetated marshes, Bald Cypress Swamps, and river floodplains. The old rice fields where this individual was found, for example, lie in the South Santee River floodplain, close to the river itself. The Cottonmouth isn't completely aquatic, however, and can sometimes be found far from water in places like fields and other random places. They are an adept swimmer and prey mostly on fish and amphibians, but will also feed on birds, mammals, small turtles, and even small Alligators!

A harmless Northern Watersnake, NOT a Cottonmouth!
Photo by Alayna Tokash.

As I mentioned earlier, there are no Cottonmouths in Ohio. And yet every year people swear up and down that they saw one somewhere in Ohio. So what are they talking about? The vast majority of the time, what they actually saw was a Northern Watersnake, Nerodia sipedon, pictured above. These harmless snakes are very common in Ohio, and they are superficially similar to the Cottonmouth in both appearance and behavior. As their name suggests, the Northern Watersnake is also semi-aquatic, but when people see a snake in the water they always seem to jump to the Cottonmouth. There are a few differences between the two species: Cottonmouths are much more bulky, have a triangular head, have heat-sensing pits near their eyes, and have vertical pupils in the shape of slits. On the other hand, Northern Watersnakes are slender, have a round head that isn't overly distinct from their body, have no pits, and have round pupils. Of course, telling the difference between the two isn't a problem in Ohio as we only have the Northern Watersnake. There are other Nerodia sp. water snakes down in the range of the Cottonmouth, but the general differences listed above hold true. And as with any animal, if you do not know for certain what an animal is, give it plenty of space and leave it alone. It is safer to wrongly assume something is very dangerous than to assume something very dangerous is harmless!

The Cottonmouth was a very exciting snake to see, and I'm incredibly happy I ran across one while on my trip. Although many people hate the Cottonmouth, they really pose no threat to the person who's aware of their surroundings and who gives these snakes their space. That's it for this post! Thanks for reading!

Some Plants from Calamus Swamp

Last Thursday I visited Calamus Swamp in Pickaway County. I wrote a post giving a general overview of the park and the trails which you can read here, but I also promised to go over some of the plants I came across while there.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the main attraction at Calamus Swamp is a 19 acre kettle lake, now mainly filled with aquatic plants as shown above. Many unique plant species can be found in this also unique ecosystem. I'm going to focus on more of the showy species you can come across here in late June and early July.

When it comes to the actual kettle lake, one of the most stand-out species in the water is the Common Buttonbush, Cephalanthus occidentalis. Common Buttonbush is a shrub that is about 4-10 feet tall that can be found in habitats such as wetlands (like Calamus Swamp), floodplains, mangrove swamps, moist understories, and on the borders of streams and lakes.

Common Buttonbush becomes covered in these spherical flower clusters from June to August before giving way to small spherical fruits that stay on the plant from September to October. Interestingly, Common Buttonbush is actually a member of the family Rubiaceae, more commonly known as the coffee family.

This is one of the dominate species at Calamus Swamp. There's buttonbush basically everywhere you look. The photo above shows a common scene while on the boardwalk. A wall of Common Buttonbush fills in the edges of the lake, offering many birds a place to nest and many waterbirds protection. Wood Ducks are especially fond of nesting in the dense growth. Bees are also a very common visitor to the flowers, as well as butterflies.

Another common aquatic plant in the kettle lake is Bur Reed, specifically the species Sparganium eurycarpum. Bur Reed is a flowering marsh plant that can either be floating in the water or emergent, meaning they grow in the water but also go into the air. Recent phylogenetic analysis has found that the bur reed genus is actually closest related to the cattail genus, which isn't surprising to learn when you see the 3-6 feet tall "grasses" coming out of the water.

The large, pointy spheres are actually the fruit of Bur Reed. They also help identify the species. For example, the fruit of S. eurycarpum (shown above) are glossy and have an abruptly pointed beak, versus the similar S. americanum which is dull and has points that taper gently like an ice-cream cone.

Next is another aquatic plant, and a unique one at that. This is the flower of the Bladderwort, a carnivorous aquatic plant. Specifically, this is the species Utricularia gibba, more commonly known as the Humped or Floating Bladderwort. Calamus Swamp only has one recorded bladderwort species, U. gibba. U. gibba has been recorded in 19 other Ohio counties, making it one of the more common bladderwort species, but still not overly abundant. Bladderworts grow in nitrogen and phosphorous poor water and have evolved to make up for this deficiency by consuming prey. Bladderworts have small bladders which actively transport water out of them, creating a vacuum inside of the bladder. Once the vacuum is great enough, all it takes is one tiny aquatic animal, like a Daphnia or mosquito larva, to trigger one of the hairs by the door. The animal, by hitting the trigger hair attached to the bladder door, creates a small hole which breaks the vacuum seal and water, along the with animal, rushes into the bladder. The door is shut and the trapped prey is dissolved normally within a few hours.

These small purple and yellow flowers belong to Bittersweet Nightshade, Solanum dulcamara, an invasive vine. Most of the individuals I came across that day were wound around the Common Buttonbush shrubs. This species, as I mentioned previously, is an invasive. It was brought from Eurasia as an ornamental and broke free of human control and now can be found in most of the lower 48 states. Bittersweet Nightshade runs a bad rap for being poisonous to humans and livestock. The flowers give way to small red berries, which to a cow or say curious child look tasty. Eating only a few can result in vomiting, dizziness, diarrhea, irregular heartbeats, and other symptoms. Eating a good amount of the berries can result in paralysis, hallucinations, and even death, although deaths have only been rarely recorded. 

Now let's move on to some of the species that were growing in the prairie section. These familiar flowers are Black-Eyed Susan, Rudbeckia hirta. There is also a large Prairie Dock leaf in the upper right corner. Black-Eyed Susans are a native species belonging to the daisy/sunflower family Asteraceae. They grow in a variety of habitats such as fields, open forests, roadsides, gardens, and so on. There are a few other species that can be found in Ohio that look like Black-Eyed Susan, all of which have a handful of characteristics which can help differentiate them if you know where to look. When it comes to Black-Eyed Susans, the stems and leaves are covered in hairs that help keep other insects away that might bother flying pollinators. This characteristics can help you know you're looking at R. hirta versus say Brown-Eyed Susan, R. triloba.

If you've been driving along the highway or on country roads recently, you might have seen a small, bright orange flower like the one above. This is Butterfly Weed, Asclepias tuberosa. Butterfly Weed is actually one of the many species of milkweed we have here in Ohio.

Closeup of the flowers of Butterfly Weed.

Butterfly Weed is named as such because the color and nectar attracts butterflies, as well as a lot of other insects. Butterfly Weed is a species that requires full sun exposure and can also tolerate dry soil, making roadsides a great place for it to go. In fact, this individual was in the prairie section along the road.

Blooming in force in the prairie was Wild Bergamot (also known at Bee Balm), Monarda fistulosa. This species is variable, so the photo above is not a good representative of what it will always look like. A widespread species, Wild Bergamot can be found growing in prairies, thickets, clearings, and on calcareous soil. Blooming from July to September, this showy flower added a beautiful contrasting bluish-purple to the greens of the grasses and the yellows of the Black-Eyed Susans in the prairie area of Calamus Swamp.

One of the more unusual plants growing was Wild White Indigo, Baptisia alba. The wind was blowing probably around fifteen miles an hour that day, making it incredibly hard to photograph flowers, so sadly I wasn't able to get a full-plant view of this tall and strange looking wildflower. A southeastern species, this plant has a spotty range in Ohio. It has been recorded in about 23 counties here, and most of those counties are grouped into a circle of 4-5 counties and scattered around the state. There were a handful of individuals located at Calamus Swamp, and they offered a unique contrast to the other species there.

And finally we have a wildflower everyone is probably familiar with. This is Purple Coneflower, Echinacea purpurea. The butterfly visiting is a Pearl Crescent. Purple Coneflower is known more as an ornamental plant to many people, but it is a native species that can be found in prairies, barrens, and dry, open woods throughout the eastern United States. Note the characteristic drooping purple petals and spiny center.

This kind of turned into a long post. To those of you who read it, thank you! There will be more posts coming up, as always, so stay tuned!

Calamus Swamp

This past Thursday I visited nearby Calamus Swamp in Pickaway County. Calamus Swamp is a private preserve owned by the Columbus Audubon Society only a couple miles from Circleville. While it is privately owned, it is open to the public, although most people do not even know it exists. This post will give a broad overview of the park for any interested in visiting.

When you first arrive at the park (I'll give directions at the end of this post), you are greeted by a small prairie filled with all sorts of goodies. Wild White Indigo, Purple Coneflower, Butterflyweed, Wild Bergamot, Prairie Dock, Black-Eyed Susan, assorted grasses, and more are all around. If you're interested in plants, please check out my post on some of the plants from Calamus Swamp. The trailhead is at the edge of the prairie by the parking lot. The trail itself splits halfway through the prairie to offer a loop around the park.

The main feature for Calamus Swamp is a 19 acre kettle lake formed during the end of the last ice age. The geological history of a kettle lake is very interesting. As you probably know, much of Ohio was covered by glaciers during the Wisconsin Glacial Episode, which ended 11,000 years ago. As this glacier receded, large blocks of ice would break off and be left behind. These huge ice blocks would create depressions in the land and then would get covered by outwash debris from the melting glacier. Eventually, this ice block would melt and the debris would fall in the depression. Many times this depression would fill with water, creating a kettle lake. This is what happened in the photo above. Over the next 11,000 years the lake has slowly filled in with vegetation and soil, shrinking in size. This brings us to its present state. Eventually, it will fill in enough to become a bog, and then completely fill in and a forest will take over. As you can see above, Calamus Swamp is currently filled with aquatic vegetation and doesn't overly have open water.

The main trail leads around the kettle lake, and much of the trail is actually boardwalk that winds over water or very squishy mud. Occasionally the trails are flooded and impassable, so be aware of that possibility if you go after a lot of rain. There's a mix of swamp and more marsh-like habitats at Calamus Swamp. You can see part of the swamp area in the photo above. Swamps are wetlands that are dominated by trees. On the other hand, marshes are wetlands that are dominated by reeds and grasses.

The boardwalk takes you through the swamp areas and also through the marsh areas, like the one above. Buttonbush and Burr Reed dominate much of the water. Bladderworts, a type of carnivorous plant, also occupy the water. Many animal species of note have been recorded here as well. Ohio Fairy Shrimp, an uncommon freshwater shrimp, can be found here. Tiger Salamanders also make their home here. Soras are relatively common here, and the more uncommon King Rail and the rare Yellow Rail have both been recorded here. Least Bitterns, Common Moorhens, and other waterbirds have been recorded here as well. Occasionally ducks will make an appearance, as well as the odd Double-Crested Cormorant. Prothonotary Warblers can occasionally be found here too. Rusty Blackbirds are almost a guaranteed sighting if you go during migration. At least eight species of frogs and toads have been recorded here as well, along with over fifty species of butterflies and skippers.

Here's another, higher, view of the kettle lake. Trust me, there's water out there. Also something to note: as one might expect, the bugs can get pretty bad here. Mosquitoes are plentiful, and so are biting flies. Be prepared to get bit, and also be prepared to get muddy.

Part of the trail follows the old Cincinnati-Muskingum Railway, which has long since been abandoned. The photo above shows the old railway, although the only evidence of it is some leftover coal along the sides of the trail. The abandoned railway from Circleville to New Holland (a total of sixteen miles) is now owned by the Pickaway County Park District. The end goal is to make it into a paved hiking/biking trail, but this will take years to finish due to money shortages. However, part of the Pickaway Trail is currently complete. You can hike from Calamus Swamp to the nearby Canal Park. The Canal Park features hiking trails along the towpath of the old Ohio-Erie Canal along the Scioto River, as well as a few other trails and Scioto River access. If you're in the area, it's definitely worth checking out for the history and the sights.

Now for some information about parking and so on. There is no sign for this preserve, so it takes eyes to not pass it the first time you go. The red arrow above points to the parking lot. The park is along SR 104, off of 22. The parking lot is a simple gravel parking lot, so keep your eyes peeled for it. The blue outlines the part itself. The yellow arrow shows the new Pickaway Trail that leads to the Canal Park. The distance between the two parks is about 1.5 miles each way. There are two actual trails at Calamus Swamp itself. The main trail is a loop which starts at the parking lot and goes around the lake and back. The second trail is an extension on the loop, which can be very helpful if this one section of the trail that lacks a boardwalk is flooded or too muddy to pass (as can happen many times).

Here's a shot of the parking lot. As you can see there's no sign, and nothing really that screams "I'm a park." More information about the park can be found at the Columbus Audubon's page on it located here. The park is open 24/7, and no permits are required. Please treat the unique and important area well; it is one of the remaining pristine kettle lakes in the region.