Game-changer in the Everglades
Large land sale throws ecosystem-restoration plans cheerfully upside down.
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The Everglades’s original plumbing was fairly simple. During the rainy season, water inched its way into Lake Okeechobee from the north through the Kissimmee River Valley. The lake – a relatively shallow, saucerlike depression – would overflow into the Everglades to the south. The slight tilt of the landscape – losing only about an inch of elevation per mile as it slopes toward Florida Bay – ensured that the overflow would spread over wide swaths of land. Combined with the vegetation (including vast expanses of saw grass eight to 12 feet tall), the amount and timing of the water’s arrival contributed a thick layer of peat beneath the area. The peat acted like a sponge, soaking up water in the wet season and slowly releasing it during the dry season.Skip to next paragraph
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But in the past century, farmers and ranchers drained wetlands north of the lake and turned a meandering Kissimmee River into a virtual water chute. Concerns about hurricanes and flooding prompted calls for flood-control structures. The lake, now surrounded by a 30-foot-high dike, is more an engineered flood-control reservoir than a way station for Everglades-bound water. Its major outlets are the St. Lucie Canal and the Caloosahatchee River – both of which dump the water directly into the ocean. And its waters are heavily polluted.
Given competing demands for Everglades water from farming, the densely populated coasts, and the Everglades itself, US Sugar’s additional acreage provides “an opportunity to redo the entire Everglades restoration program,” says Jeff Danter, who heads up The Nature Conservancy’s state office in Florida. “It’s not necessarily to restore 187,000 acres of sawgrass, but it creates a lot more flexibility in the system to move water around to meet everybody’s needs.”
Some of the land’s benefits are likely to be indirect, derived through land swaps with other sugar growers in the large agricultural zone south of Lake Okeechobee. Still, planners can foresee fresh approaches to meeting water-flow and water-quality requirements.
For instance, original plans called for a 30,000-acre storage reservoir at the southern end of the agricultural zone, miles from the lake. Special protected marshlands set up to treat the water naturally would intercept the water along the way to the reservoir, says Ms. Taplin of the US Army Corps of Engineers. Now, she can envision moving the storage facility much closer to the lake, and shifting the so-called special-treatment areas to the agricultural zone’s border with the rest of the Everglades. This new layout also could allow the program to avoid drilling 333 wells to store water in aquifers for later recovery – an energy-intensive approach that has never been tried on this scale and one that would have required heavy investments in water purification as well.
Yet for some, moving water around and regulating its flow still falls short of the area’s ecological needs. In some respects, Dr. Richardson says, restoration plans are chasing a poetic “river of grass” vision when the Everglades never were a river of grass, a swamp, or a marsh. Peatlands – and their natural storage capacity – build up and thrive on extremes of water and fire.
“Engineering has a tendency to take out the extremes, and ecological systems live on the extremes,” he says. “The Everglades is a harsh environment that has a yin and a yang,” he continues, “and humans don’t like those things. There are some areas we can save, but it’s going to be tough.”