Dishin' Dirt

So what does it really take to make a habitat restoration happen? While the list varies from project to project, we've done our level best to compile the list of necessary ingredients for Terra Ceia.

Anatomy of a Restoration

Paul Hites is a sculptor. His medium of choice is dirt. But a current assignment has him moving mountains of mulch, sweet-smelling remnants of what was once a dense forest of Brazilian pepper trees on a waterfront parcel that's getting a new lease on life. Hites drives a D6 Caterpillar bulldozer for the Southwest Florida Water Management District (SWFWMD), where he's worked for the past 20 years. The senior heavy equipment operator is a critical player in the ground crew working to restore an 1,800-acre bayfront parcel that is part of the Terra Ceia Aquatic and Buffer Preserves, just south of the Manatee County line.

The project by SWFWMD and partners will be the largest-ever habitat restoration on Tampa Bay, and one of the biggest in Florida. About 1,100 acres are existing wetlands and open water slated for preservation. The other 700 or so acres are being turned back into meandering creeks, tidal marsh and freshwater wetlands buffered by coastal uplands cleared of invasive exotic plants. "Most people have a hard time believing that there are any places left like this in Tampa Bay," says Dr. Randy Runnels, who manages the Terra Ceia preserves for the Florida Department of Environmental Protection.

Just a few years ago, the property was in private hands, slated to become another waterfront development dotted with upscale homes, condominiums and the ubiquitous Florida golf course. Then fate intervened. The developer went bankrupt, the bank foreclosed and sold the property, valued at up to $5 million, to SWFWMD at auction for $1.4 million.

Giving Nature a Hand

Instead of an exclusive golf course community, the Terra Ceia tract will become a mosaic of coastal habitats for wildlife and the public to enjoy. That process begins with a design concept developed by environmental scientists and engineers, taking clues where they can from historical photographs and site surveys slated for completion this fall.

Topographical surveys revealing elevations and slope are fed through a computer to calculate how much earthmoving is required. Geotechnical surveys reveal ground composition. "Say you're proposing a tidal lagoon but you cut down two feet and hit limerock, you've got a decision to make," explains Dr. Brandt Henningsen, senior environmental scientist with SWFWMD's Surface Water Improvement & Management (SWIM) program. "Is it worth the expense or do I move the tidal lagoon over 50 feet?" Scientists plan to restore about 250 acres of estuarine and freshwater habitat, including small "pothole" wetlands that are critically important for many coastal birds, like the white ibis, that nest along the bay but need freshwater fish to feed their young. Herons and wood storks use these freshwater way-stations during dry-down periods to concentrate their prey. Mangrove forests buffering the shoreline will be interspersed with newly planted salt marsh to create a foraging area for birds and other creatures that dine on small fish, shrimp and crabs.

Another 450 acres is slated for upland restoration and enhancement. Hardwood hammock, dotted with massive live oaks, red cedar, sable and cabbage palms, will be preserved. Old farmlands will be turned back into pine flatwoods that should mimic the characteristics of a natural upland community in about 10 years. The aim is to re-establish sustainable wildlife populations of animals such as deer, wild turkey and small mammals, along with various reptiles and birds, that have been either drastically depleted or driven away.

"We're helping nature do its thing," adds fellow SWIM environmental scientist Carl Giovenco. "Vertical seawalls and straight streams are things engineers dream up. If you're from New York City, concrete looks great, but that's not Florida," says Giovenco, explaining how the design crew works to vary the topography to maximize wildlife habitat.

Archaeological surveys help complete the design puzzle. Test holes are dug every 100 feet and the dirt is sieved for artifacts. A "hit" prompts further investigation and possible changes to the site plan to protect historically significant finds.

Total project cost is estimated at $7.4 million with restoration phased in based on available funding. SWFWMD currently has $3.4 million allocated for the project, which is still in the design and permitting stages. Construction is expected to begin in 2003.

So far, about 100 acres of land have been cleared of noxious vegetation and other "non-native" species. Armies of volunteers helped collect more than 80 tons of trash, everything from buoys and deserted boats to cars and freezers, which, Runnels notes with amusement, are at least easy to tow.

Residents and recreational enthusiasts have much to gain. The site's management plan calls for a small boat ramp at the end of Bishop Harbor Road to replace the unmarked "ramp" popular with locals, a marked channel for shallow-draft boats, canoe and kayak launches, and nature trails surrounding a turn-of-the-century mansion that will be transformed into an interpretative center for visitors.

Bishop Harbor, part of the Terra Ceia Aquatic Preserve, offers breathtaking vistas of mangrove islands, open water, creeks tucked into the forested fringe, and the majestic Skyway Bridge looming in the distance. To the north is Port Manatee, to the south is the Manatee River. U.S. 41 lies to the east and I-275 more or less splits the preserve in half. Just a few miles away is Piney Point phosphate plant, where the state is overseeing a massive cleanup after a bankrupt company abandoned the site in early 2001 (see lead story). Last fall, state officials authorized emergency discharges from the plant into Bishop Harbor to stave off a total collapse of the facility's wastewater dikes after Tropical Storm Gabrielle dumped 12 inches of rain in 48 hours. "On the one hand, I'm praying for rain so the new plants we're putting in at Terra Ceia can survive," says Henningsen, "but I know it's a double-edged sword. If it causes a discharge from Piney Point, we'll end up degrading Bishop Harbor."

Texans by birth, Texans forever

Henningsen and Runnels, the project's unofficial ambassadors, are easy to spot. Texans by birth (and Texans forever, they're quick to add), both men are fast-talkers who share a passion for their adopted state, and an even greater love for their work at Terra Ceia. They butt heads occasionally, but say it just comes with the territory. "Both our jobs involve a lot of wrangling," says Runnels.

Tools of the Trade

Battling aggressive exotics like Brazilian peppers, which overtake and crowd out native plant life, requires bringing in the big guns: in this case, a bulldozer, trackhoe, hydro-axe and something called the Clear More Tree Chipper Stumper, a steel behemoth that can chew up and spit out about an acre of peppers per day.

Most menacing, if you're a tree marked for elimination, is the hydro-axe, which sports an 8-foot-wide hydraulic mower deck that turns dense forests of trees into six-inch wood chips. Hites prefers his flexible D6 High Track CAT. Weighing in at about 21 tons, the bulldozer has a 13-foot wide blade and does everything from push dirt and mulch to clear lands and build roads.

The men and machines have their ardent fans, most notably Henningsen. "These guys put a lot of energy and imagination into their work," says Henningsen of Hites and SWFWMD trackhoe operator Tim Foster. "Literally, I've sketched out things on the back of a napkin and they take it and do an incredible job."

On any given workday, the Terra Ceia site is a whirlwind of activity with visits from as many as 25 18-wheelers hauling 21 tons of mulch per load. The mulch is courtesy of the City of St. Petersburg, which trucks its excess material to Terra Ceia daily. It's also the latest weapon in the war against invasive plants. Hites spreads the mulch 18 inches deep over the newly cleared land to stall the return of exotics. "It buys you 12 to 24 months of clean area so you can replant with natives before the nasties return," explains Henningsen.

And the list of "nasties" in Florida is quickly growing. There are 68 exotic plants (category 1) on Florida's "most unwanted" list. Controlling exotics costs the state and local governments almost $60 million per year. Once introduced, these species muscle their way into an ecosystem and take over, gravitating to lands that have been cleared for farming or development. Because they have no natural predators, they often grow unchecked, displacing native plants and wildlife.

Indians, farmers, whiskey-runners

Archaeologist Bill Burger, who's surveying the site for clues to its ancient past, has a special connection to this place: He grew up on Bishop Harbor. His father, an excavator with dreams of developing his waterfront site, actually converted the mangrove swamp into finger-fill canals in the early 1960s, hoping to cut a channel to the deep-waters of Tampa Bay. After the plans were denied, he sold his property to another developer, one in a long string of would-be suitors hoping to cash in on a little slice of paradise.

Terra Ceia includes sites dating back to 8,000 B.C., mostly small hunting and camping sites. Larger shell middens start to appear around 1200 B.C. during the "ceramic era," so-called because of ceramic finds dating back to this period. Most of these middens are now underwater, reflecting sea-level rise. More permanent settlements - including temple and burial mounds still present on site - were established by Indians between 800 and 1200 A.D., long before Europeans landed on our shores.

By the 17th century, Cuban fishermen were harvesting redfish, sea trout and pompano from the estuary, and shipping catches back to their homeland.

But it wasn't until the 1840s, when the Atzeroth family settled a chunk of land on the west end of Terra Ceia, that the first European settlement was documented. Julia Atzeroth - or "Madame Joe" as she was known - ran a riverfront boarding house and store in Palmetto where she sold vegetables grown on Terra Ceia Island. The industrious matriarch later purchased a coastal sloop and hired one Samuel Bishop, after whom Bishop Harbor is thought to be named, to captain the vessel. During the Civil War, Madame Joe's sloop was used for blockade running, ferrying mail from Fort Brooke in Tampa to Bradenton. As legend has it, on one particular trip, with Union officers in hot pursuit, Bishop ran the sloop aground but managed to make it ashore and deliver the mail.

The tiny farming community grew in the late 1880s, with vegetables and citrus transported by steamship from wharfs on Terra Ceia Bay to Tampa. With the extension of a railroad line to the island in the early 1900s, the community flourished. During Prohibition, whisky runners shuttled liquid contraband through Terra Ceia Bay. Burger recalls stories of "schooners of whiskey from Bimini that would offload their cargo onto mullet boats some distance off in the Gulf." In fact, notes Burger, Critical Creek, which bisects Rattlesnake Key, got its name from smugglers who used the tiny shortcut to Miguel Bay to escape the Coast Guard.

"The death knell of Terra Ceia's booming economy," says Burger, was a massive storm old-timers called "the tidal wave," which flooded the island in the early 1930s. The railroad line was discontinued, and while farming continued, the area became increasingly residential.

Ironically, or perhaps not, it was Burger's dad who ultimately fueled his passion for history and archeology. "We both liked to dig," recalls Burger, "but while my dad used a bulldozer, I use a trowel."

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