Longleaf Pines Forests and Red-Cockaded Woodpeckers

Let me throw some statistics at you. Prior to the European colonization of the United States, there was an estimated 90,000,000 acres of Longleaf Pine forest in the southeastern US. This Longleaf Pine forest ecosystem covered most of the Atlantic Coastal Plain from Virginia to Texas. Nowadays, of those 90 million acres, only 3,400,000 remain. That's only a whopping 4% of what it used to be. Of those 3.4 million remaining acres, only approximately 12,000 acres can be considered old growth Longleaf Pine forests. That's a mere 0.4% of the remaining 4%.

Map of the Longleaf Pine forest historical range. Map courtesy of the North Carolina Longleaf Coalition.

As one might guess, the nearly wholesale destruction of the Longleaf Pine forest ecosystem had an incredibly negative impact on many of the animals which called this ecosystem home. Although some of the animals that lived in Longleaf Pine forests also lived in other ecosystems—say, for example, White-Tailed Deer and the Common Raccoon—many others were dependent on this ecosystem. And as the ecosystem became endangered, so did many of the animal species that were intrinsically tied to the ecosystem. Such animals include the Gopher Tortoise, Indigo Snake, and—most famously—the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker.

Back in October of 2017, I ventured to the Santee Coastal Reserve Wildlife Management Area in Charleston County, South Carolina. This 24,000-acre wildlife management area (WMA) contains an assortment of different habitats, including salt marshes, freshwater swamps, barrier islands, and an extensive old growth Longleaf Pine forest. The Santee Coastal Reserve WMA was officially established in 1974, but the forest is much older. Prior to the acquisition of the land by the state of South Carolina, the forest and surrounding lands were privately owned. For the majority of the 1900’s, the land belonged to a hunting club, which managed the land for various game species, especially waterfowl. The natural stand of Longleaf Pine forest pictured above was essentially left alone, and it is now well over 100 years old. Presently, visitors to the Santee Coastal Reserve can drive the dirt roads that wind through the Longleaf Pine forest, hike along old rice plantation dykes that crisscross a salt marsh, or meander down a boardwalk that snakes its way into a Bald-Cypress swamp.

A 16-inch long needle.

Before we talk about the Red-Cockaded Woodpeckers that call Santee Coastal Reserve home, let's talk about the Longleaf Pine forest. As the name suggests, a Longleaf Pine forest is a forest in which the dominant tree is the Longleaf Pine (Pinus palustris). The Longleaf Pine is named as such due to the incredible length of its needles, which can reach up to almost 18 inches!

The Longleaf Pine doesn't grow like a "typical" tree. When you think about the life cycle of a typical tree—say a White Oak or Sweetgum—the seed will sprout a sapling. That sapling will look like a miniature version of the adult tree—with fewer leaves and the like. That sapling will then grow in both girth and height, and more branches and leaves will be added. But Longleaf Pines go about growing a bit differently. When a seed sprouts, the resulting individual doesn't look like a tiny tree, but instead looks something more akin to a sedge or clump of grass. In fact, this part of the Longleaf Pine's life is called the "grass stage," and the individual pictured above is one such example. Longleaf Pines will stay in this grass stage for 1 to 12 years. During this period, they really don't grow upward. They instead focus on growing an extensive root system.

After the grass stage, the individual will quickly shoot up a few feet, but will still not grow any branches. This stage is called the bottlebrush stage, and the individual pictured above is in this stage. After a few more years in this stage, the individual will begin growing taller and will finally start growing branches. Only at this point will the individual be considered a sapling.

Around the age of 30 or so, the tree will begin producing pine cones, which are huge compared to most of the pine cones this Ohioan is used to seeing. Earlier I mentioned how the Longleaf Pine forest ecosystem nearly all but disappeared from the landscape. There are two main reasons for this. First and foremost, many a Longleaf Pine found its fate in the form of an axe or saw in the 1700's and 1800's. The Longleaf Pine can grow upward of 150 feet tall, and nearly 4 feet in diameter, making it especially attractive to the early American logging industry. An unbelievable number of Longleaf Pine stands were clearcut, and instead of replanting these stands with more Longleaf Pines, loggers and landowners mostly replanted the land with Loblolly Pines, which grow much faster. This faster growing rate meant a faster turnaround in profits for loggers. Most of the forests which were once dominated by Longleaf Pines are now dominated by Loblolly Pines, and those forests will remain that way unless someone steps in and properly manages the forest.

The second reason for the decline and destruction of Longleaf Pine forests lies in the cultural push for fire suppression. Forest fires are a natural feature in nearly all the forests types throughout the US, although they vary in the rate of incidence. Some forest types, such as the eastern deciduous forest ecosystem, will experience a forest fire every 100-400 years on average. Other types of forests experience natural forest fires very often; the Longleaf Pine forest ecosystem historically experienced natural forest fires every 2 to 3 years. These natural wild fires were started by lightning, but—as I discussed in my previous post about the I'OnSwamp—Native Americans and even early European colonists exacerbated this natural rate by utilizing forest fires as a tool for altering the landscape. However, by the late 1800's and early 1900's, a cultural shift occurred in the US. Forest fires of any type, whether natural or set by humans, were considered dangerous and unnatural. Forest fires were suppressed as best they could be, and a bear dressed in human clothes hammered into the impressionable minds of American children that only they could prevent forest fires.

The problem is, most forested ecosystems are meant to burn in some form or another. The Longleaf Pine forest ecosystem must burn for its existence to continue. If all fires are suppressed, the plants in the undergrowth of a Longleaf Pine forest will begin to grow up, and eventually other tree species will crowd out and ultimately replace the Longleaf Pines. As it turns out, Longleaf Pine trees are nearly fire resistant, whereas other plants in this region are not as resistant to fire. In a Longleaf Pine forest's natural state, with fires occurring every 2-3 years, the Longleaf Pines will remain strong and healthy while other bushes and trees are repeatedly burned back. The Longleaf Pine can only maintain its grip in this ecosystem with fire being a common occurrence. Thankfully, we have come to realize that forest fires are a necessary component in many ecosystems, and many of the remaining Longleaf Pine forests are actively managed with low-intensity prescribed burns every few years.

The quality of a given Longleaf Pine forest is of utmost importance for many of the animals and plants which call it home. Take, for example, the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker. The Red-Cockaded Woodpecker is a Federally Endangered species, and there are only an estimated 15,000 individuals left in the world. The disappearance of this species is tied directly to the disappearance of the Longleaf Pine forest from across the southeastern US. The Red-Cockaded Woodpecker relies almost exclusively on the Longleaf Pine nesting. And not any Longleaf Pine will do; no, the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker needs relatively old Longleaf Pines. When Longleaf Pines reach about 60 or so years old, a fungus will often infect the tree and cause Red Heart Rot. With this fungal disease, the heartwood of the Longleaf Pine will soften. Only in the softened heartwood of an infected Longleaf Pine tree can a Red-Cockaded Woodpecker build its nesting cavity, as it is otherwise too hard for the woodpecker to carve.

Not unexpectedly, Red-Cockaded Woodpeckers used to be common throughout the original 90 million acres of Longleaf Pine forest, with an estimated 2-4+ million individuals total at the time of European colonization. And, also not unexpectedly, their numbers plummeted as the Longleaf Pine forest was cut down and converted in the 1700's to 1900's. When the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker was officially added to the Endangered Species List in 1979 (5 years after the Endangered Species Act was created), there were less than 10,000 individuals remaining, which was less than 1% of their historical population. Intensive conservation efforts were put in place to save the species. States started restoring and actively managing Longleaf Pine forests to expand available habitat for the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker. Officials began surveying forests for individuals and marking active nesting or foraging trees with white bands, so active "clusters" of Red-Cockaded Woodpeckers could be monitored year to year. These bands also allowed public and private landowners to know which trees to not cut down or tamper with. Officials also began creating artificial nest cavities in younger trees that Red-Cockaded Woodpeckers could not carve into, allowing them to nest more readily in forests that might not be "up to par" when it comes to the age factor.

Thankfully due to these intensive conservation efforts, the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker population has been recovering. A 2016 survey estimated the total population to be around 15,000 individuals and growing. And although their numbers are increasing, they are still listed as Federally Endangered, and probably will be for some time. The greatest threat to the individuals nowadays is continued habitat fragmentation and weather events. A large hurricane, for example, could wipe out nesting-age trees and individual woodpeckers themselves. When Hurricane Hugo made landfall in South Carolina in the fall of 1989, the winds toppled 87% of all the trees containing active Red-Cockaded Woodpecker cavities in Francis Marion National Forest, which then held the largest population of the species. With a population already highly fragmented, such events can easily knock out entire local populations or harm them enough to where they are no longer viable. Isolated and fragmented populations are much more at risk of extinction than highly connected and broadly spaced populations.

The continued population growth of the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker is a welcomed sight. These little woodpeckers are considered "keystone species.” A keystone species is a species that interacts with its environment in a way that either regulates or has a significant impact on many of the other species within that same environment. In the case of the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker, upward of 27 other vertebrate species, and many arthropod species, utilize old Red-Cockaded Woodpecker nest cavities in some form or another. Many of these species—including Eastern Bluebirds, Brown-Headed Nuthatches, and Wood Ducks—require such cavities to breed, but are unable to create the cavities themselves. Such species rely on the Red-Cockaded Woodpecker to create suitable cavities, and the extinction of the species would have a cascading effect on many other species within the Longleaf Pine forest ecosystem.

If you want to see a Red-Cockaded Woodpecker species yourself, one of the best places to visit is the Santee Coastal Reserve WMA. Not only is this WMA renowned for birding in general, but the Carolina Bird Club claims that “Many birders have gotten their lifer Red-cockaded Woodpeckers and Bachman's Sparrows” in the old-growth Longleaf Pine forest within the preserve. Regardless if you’re a birder, a herper, a botanist, or just someone who enjoys nature, a visit to Santee Coastal Reserve is not one you’ll regret.

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.

A Few Birds From Huntington Beach State Park

Two weeks ago I had a break from work and decided to head to Huntington Beach State Park, SC, only a short two hours away. Huntington Beach State Park is a phenomenal and well-known birding (and tourist) location along the Atlantic Coast of South Carolina. The park features a long (typically busy) beach and extensive salt marsh and lagoon nestled behind the beach dunes. While birding around the park, I was able to grab a few photos of some of the hundreds and hundreds of birds taking up residence throughout the park that day.

I first ventured out to the beach, which was rather dead at the time. Other than Laughing Gulls and Brown Pelicans, the little sandpiper pictured above was the only bird patrolling the beach. This is the Sanderling, an incredibly common shorebird found along the beaches of the Pacific, Atlantic, and Gulf Coasts during the winter. A small, but massively charismatic shorebird, the Sanderling is well known for its wave-chasing foraging. When the leftovers of a wave begin to recede after hitting the beach, individuals or flocks of Sanderlings will run out onto the freshly-exposed sand and probe for any sort of invertebrate that the wave either uncovered or left stranded on the sand. As the next wave comes rushing in, the Sanderling will quickly dart away from the water. This running back and forth as the waves come in and out is rather entertaining to watch. And just a random fun fact: The Sanderling recently garnered non-birder fame after being the focus of the Pixar Animation short "Piper," which debuted in 2016 before Finding Dory 2. Although the short strays from the biology a tad for artistic sake, it's a beautifully animated, and fun, short film. Here's a link to watch the 6-minute short: "Piper"

I left the beach and headed to the salt marsh, and the bird diversity instantly picked up. Patrolling the low-tide waters in the salt marsh were several wading birds, including this Great Egret. The Great Egret is a common species throughout much of the east, especially along the coast. Like other wading birds, the Great Egret is never found far from water, whether it be salt marshes, rivers, lakes, ponds, swamps, or the like. The Great Egret is the largest of the egrets—an "egret" is nothing more than a common name given to herons which happen to be white—in the United States. Standing at over 3 feet tall, the Great Egret is also the second tallest of the herons in the US, only second to the Great Blue Heron.

A Great Egret stretches out his neck to get a better view of the water.

Fish are the preferred food for the Great Egret. The lanky Great Egret spends most of its time slowly and carefully moving through the water, looking for fish swimming about. When a potential meal is spotted, the Great Egret will pull its long neck back into a compacted "S" shape and take aim. Their long neck essentially acts as a spring. When the egret is ready, it will shoot its neck and beak forward into the water, spearing the fish. Once the fish is speared, the Great Egret will deftly maneuver the fish with its beak in order to swallow it whole. 

Hanging out on a mudflat near the Great Egret were several Double-Crested Cormorants. The Double-Crested Cormorant can be found throughout pretty much all of the US at some point during the year, and the coast of South Carolina is one of their overwintering grounds. The Double-Crested Cormorant is another fish-eating and water-loving bird. Like other cormorants, the Double-Crested Cormorant is a diving bird, and they typically dive to depths up to 25 feet in order find, chase, and catch fish. You might also see individuals of this species sitting somewhere with their wings spread as they face the Sun. They do this in order to dry their feathers after a dive. Unlike most water-dwelling birds, the structure of a cormorant's feathers make it to where they do not shed water. This is an adaptation which allows cormorants to more easily dive, but it comes at a cost. After a Double-Crested Cormorant dives, its feathers are soaked. Dripping wet feathers make it hard to fly, so the cormorant is forced to stand in the Sun and let its feathers air dry if it wants to fly to another location.

The highlight of the day was a much-awaited lifer, the Roseate Spoonbill (two of which are pictured in the foreground). I'll get to the Spoonbills in a moment. First, let's talk about that bald-faced bird in the back.

Meet the Wood Stork. The Wood Stork is a resident of the marshes and swamps of the Gulf Coast and southern Atlantic Coasts here in the US, but is also found throughout Central and South America. Although you wouldn't guess it when visiting Huntington Beach State Park—where there can be hundreds and hundreds of Wood Storks at a time—the Wood Stork is actually Federally Threatened in the United States. Habitat degradation, invasive species, disruptions to the historical food web, and other factors led to the decrease of the population here in the United States during the 1900's. Originally listed as Federally Endangered, Wood Stork populations have been on a slight rebound over the past decade or so, prompting the listing to be moved down to "Threatened" in 2014. A good sign for now, but the species is by no means out of trouble.

As I mentioned, the highlight of the day personally were the Roseate Spoonbills. I've been wanting to see this strange wader ever since I was a young kid flipping through my Sibley's field guide, and I finally got my chance! As becomes quite obvious upon seeing one, their name stems from their pinkish color and their spatulate bill. They owe their pinkish color to their diet, much in the way flamingos do. Roseate Spoonbills feed on shrimp and other organisms which contain a type of pigment called Canthaxanthin. This pigment is reddish-pink in color. As a Roseate Spoonbill consumes more and more Canthaxanthin, it sequesters the pigment in its feathers, giving its plumage a pink coloration. This also means that the intensity of pink and the exact hue can is different from individual to individual, and location to location, depending on the available food and the individual's specific diet.

Of course, the most attention-grabbing feature of the Roseate Spoonbill is its spatulate, i.e. spoon-like, bill. The widened-tip of their bill is actually a foraging adaptation. When the Roseate Spoonbill feeds, it waves its bill back and forth through the water with its mouth slightly open. The widened tip of the bill allows the Spoonbill to better grab onto various prey items—fish, crustaceans, worms, etc.—as the beak offers more surface area. Imagine that you had to catch an insect that was moving around quickly. Would you rather use two chopsticks to catch the insect, or two large spatulas? The spatulas would be much more effective at grabbing the insect, for the same reason that the Spoonbill's beak is better than a sharp, pointed beak.

Of course, birds weren't the only reptilians (as birds are nothing more than an offshoot of dinosaurs) patrolling the waters for food. Huntington Beach State Park is also extremely well known for its American Alligator population, and I saw around a dozen that day either swimming in the lagoon or basking on the land. Several people regaled me with a story of earlier in the day, when a particularly large Alligator shut down traffic as it crossed the main road. Apparently this is a rather common occurrence at the park, and one that I would love to see!

My new job has kept me busy, and it's been difficult to find time to blog. I've got some more downtime this month, so hopefully I will be able to find time to photograph some things and pump out a few blog posts. Thanks for reading!