Taming the Waves

Dim Your Lights if You Love Sea Turtles
Each summer, Florida's beaches host the largest gathering of sea turtles in the United States. The females emerge from the surf to lay eggs in sand nests. Later, tiny hatchlings struggle from their nests and scramble to the ocean. Nearly all this activity happens under the cover of darkness and depends on the natural light of the night —moon, stars and the sea's phosphorescence. The artificial light of houses, cars and businesses can wreak havoc with this process, confusing the baby turtles and leading them away from the safe haven of the sea.

What you can do:

Turn off beachfront lighting during nesting and hatching seasons (May 1 through October 31.)
Turn off any other lights that aren't needed during this period.
Draw curtains or apply dark window tinting to windows facing the beach.
Replace existing light fixtures with low-pressure sodium vapor lighting or low-wattage yellow incandescent light bulbs, commonly called "bug lights." (Both have been shown to affect turtles much less than light from other sources.)
Support local government sea turtle protection initiatives.

It's been a stressful two days of meetings, luncheons and workshops, and I can feel my shoulder muscles bunching as we head north out of West Palm Beach. Another dinner function to hurry off to. We didn't even have time to change clothes. But my frustration turns to surprise and then wonder as we enter John D. MacArthur Beach State Park. The sound of the traffic melts away. As we step out of the car, a cool breeze tickles the hem of my skirt. I can hear the chatter of an angry mockingbird and the unmistakable sound of surf in the distance. The 1,600-foot boardwalk to the beach leads into the heart of a mangrove forest and then across the back bay. Still waters reflect the dying rays of the sun. Mangrove trees crowd the banks, thrusting their root systems out into the cove. My tension begins to slip away as I walk slowly across the foot bridge, drinking in the tranquil sights and sounds of an unspoiled barrier island. The knots of stress disappear completely as I step out onto a small wooden deck overlooking the ocean. No condominiums here, no hotdog stands, no roller-bladers. Just sand and sea. MacArthur Beach is an island in time, an unspoiled example of the natural subtropical coastal habitat that once covered southeastern Florida. John D. MacArthur, the previous owner of the property, donated the land as a public park. In 1981, the state began managing the property and developed the park and a nature center with additional funds from the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation. The park allows visitors to explore an untouched barrier island, one of the last of its kind on the east coast. Herons, ibises, roseate spoonbills and osprey raise their young here, while fiddler crabs scuttle among the roots of the mangroves. The beach also is a prime nesting area for sea turtles, which come ashore to lay their eggs in the dark of night from May through August. They are drawn to its shore, an oasis of darkness among the bright lights of the southeastern cities. As I head for the beach, determined to sink my toes into the cool sand before heading back to the interpretive center for dinner, I can understand why the turtles come to MacArthur Beach.

Nature’s Barriers
Much of Florida is protected by a chain of barrier islands, narrow strips of sand that act as a buffer for storm waves. In their natural state, barrier islands contain a range of habitats, from sandy beaches to salt marshes and brackish lagoons. Behind the front dunes that can vary in height and distance from the salt spray and wind, thickets of shrubs that can tolerate strong wind and salt spray create a protective hedge in front of coastal forests. These forests trap and anchor sand, help stabilize the dunes, and protect the shoreline against storms and hurricanes. They are also critical stop-overs for songbirds migrating between the tropics and North America. Farther back from the ocean, the dunes flatten, ending at saltwater lagoons bordered by salt marshes in north Florida, or mangrove swamps in south Florida.

The Trouble with Seawalls
A few months later I find myself on the broad expanse of Miami Beach. I can't help thinking about the last time I was here. Then there was almost no beach at all. Today, the beach has been "renourished" by the Army Corps of Engineers and extends some 100 feet. The presence of a wide sandy beach is important to many coastal communities, including Miami Beach. In the early part of the century, tourists flocked here for the beautiful beaches. By the 1970s, the beaches were all but gone, victims of the dynamics of sandy coastlines and barrier islands. In their natural state, barrier islands and other sandy beaches are constantly shifting. Sand is moved offshore during storms, then much is regained during calmer periods. Islands move toward the land, and north or south along the coast. Their shapes change, as do the shapes of other sandy shores, from season to season, year to year.

I Slow for Skimmers
Some of the biggest losers in the development of Florida's barrier islands have been birds that nest on exposed beaches and sandbars. These shore nesters —birds like least terns, snowy plovers and black skimmers— often must search for undisturbed spots in which to raise their young. Some nest on top of condominiums in the southern part of the state. It's up to us to share Florida's beaches with these feathered visitors.

What you can do:

If you see flocks of terns or skimmers settled into a sandy spot during the late spring and summer, don't disturb them. That's when they're likely to be nesting.
Observe "nesting ground" signs.
Keep pets on a leash at all times.
Keep children away from nesting, feedina and roosting areas. Make sure the conservation element in your local comprehensive plan provides protection for wildlife habitat.

This coastal migration is part of the natural Florida and was never a problem until people decided to dredge inlets and build houses, condominiums and other structures right along the beach. Since they didn't want their beachfront property to disappear, they began trying to trap sand using seawalls, revetments, and bulkheads. While sea walls could protect buildings, they couldn't stop the beach from moving. In fact, in most places they made things worse. Because they interfere with the sand's natural movement, seawalls sometimes cause a beach to disappear faster than it would under normal circumstances. Left to nature, beaches erode during a storm and rebuild afterwards. But beaches with jetties and seawalls cannot rebuild themselves because the sand is permanently lost offshore or downstream. More than 350 of Florida's 825 miles of sandy beach on the Atlantic and Gulf shores are eroding. Of these, 233 miles have critical erosion problems. In the past 20 years, the state and local governments have begun to restrict where and how development can happen on barrier islands and sandy beaches. Many communities restrict the building of seawalls and revetments. Unfortunately, coastal management policies in local governments' comprehensive plans sometimes conflict with state regulations. This lack of coordination can hamper the ability of some communities to protect both property and coastal resources.

All Walled In
Seawalls are common sights on many of the state's barrier islands. Built in an attempt to keep land from eroding, they instead make erosion worse in many places.

What seawalls actually do is:

Cause the action of waves to be more intense, steepening the beach and making it more vulnerable to storm erosion.
Increase the intensity of currents that travel along the shore, hastening the removal of sand.
Prevent sand from moving between the dunes and the beach. Many beach communities in Florida have seawalls and revetments, and most are suffering from erosion problems.

What can we do?
The choices are simple: build bigger seawalls, pay for "beach renourishment," (and keep on paying, since the beaches will continue to wash away) or move the buildings.

What you can do:

Avoid using beach armoring, seawalls or other artificial structures.
If you own coastal property, leave it in its natural state as much as possible.
Build behind the primary dunes.
Allow as much space as possible between the water and structures.

If you build it, they will come.
It's a beautiful spring day, and 78-year-old Aunt Lydia has decided we must make a trek to the beach. As we cross the causeway onto the island, she happily tells my kids about her wedding day on the very beach we are heading toward. Fifty-five years

As on most barrier beaches, the sands of Miami Beach are constantly shifting.

ago it was, she says excitedly. The palm trees waved, pelicans lined the pilings of the old wooden fishing pier, and her family set out a lavish supper on red and white checked tablecloths under the pines. We envision an unspoiled paradise with a wide, white-sand beach. When we finally arrive, the car falls silent. Finally, my five-year-old pipes up. "Aunt Lydia," she says, "Did you get married in a parking lot?" In the 55 years since Aunt Lydia was married, Florida's population has grown by more than 10 million people and most of them have gravitated to the coasts, including the seaward beaches of many barrier islands. All those people need somewhere to live. They need roads, schools, hospitals, and places to shop. In too many coastal areas, decisions about where to put these facilities rested on what was most convenient, rather than what was best for the resource. Today, balancing the growth of communities with the needs of the state's coastal ecosystems is a priority. But it is still a constant challenge.

Clean It Up!

It happens too often. You get up early, eager foran early morning walk along a beautiful deserted beach.You're walking along the shore, feet in the water, head in the clouds, when you see it. Plastic bags, soda cans, tangled fishing line. Trash. Marine debris appears on all our beaches and most of it is plastic. Lightweight, strong and durable, plastic is a persistent threat and more than just a litter problem. Thousands of marine animals die every year from eating and getting tangled in plastic trash. The regional office of the Center for Marine Conservation coordinates coastal cleanups in Florida. In 1994, more than 16,600 volunteers collected 167 tons of trash from 1,267 miles of Florida coastline.

What you can do:

Encourage your beach, dock or marina to provide enough garbage cans and recycling bins. Then use them.
Get involved in local coastal clean-ups sponsored by the Center for Marine Conservation and other groups.
Support local government recycling efforts.