Down Upon the Suwannee River

In issuing its wetlands guidance document, the Bush administration rejected warnings from the most knowledgeable wetlands authorities in the nation, including the professional managers and biologists of such organizations as the Wildlife Society, American Fisheries Society, International Association of Fish and Wildlife Agencies, and Ducks Unlimited, who patiently explained why and how isolated waters are "an integral part of our nation's watersheds and thus affect the health of all waters of the United States," and 43 senior scientists from organizations such as the National Academy of Sciences who painstakingly detailed "the ecological goods and services" provided by isolated wetlands and intermittent and underground streams.

These goods and services are particularly evident in the woods around the Suwannee's Little Shoals. Of all the places on earth I would look for whitewater, Florida is close to the last; so after I'd seen these rapids from the air, I insisted that Lindskold and Sedmera guide me to them by wheel and foot. Everyone but Avis appreciated the 2.2-mile ride over the rough, muddy dirt road. Deer froze and fled noiselessly over and through palmettos, their tails bobbing like snowy owls long after the forest had swallowed the rest of their bodies. Sand washes, dry for only a few days, were strewn with fox scat and wild turkey tracks. Twice we heard the demented laughter of pileated woodpeckers.

For the entire distance the car was completely in the Suwannee River. The engine ran smoothly, however, because the floodplain was dry—rivers breathe like people and we were catching this one on an exhale. A sign we'd seen as we turned off the tarred road had informed us that in 1998 the surface of the river at this point had been exactly level with the roof of the car. When the dirt road ran out, we walked through and around forested wetlands (real ones), picking and eating blueberries as we went.

These wetlands didn't look anything like the "restored" versions we'd seen earlier. They were dark, cool, and richly scented with damp earth and forest duff. A few were already dry, at least on the surface, but most held standing water. Tadpoles splashed at our feet, and all around us redbellied woodpeckers croaked. When we found pond cypress "knees," we looked for the cypress, much of which had been cut out. But other species thrived. In and around the wetlands we encountered old, lofty specimens of river birch, red maple, sweet gum, wax myrtle, persimmon, ash, and, on higher ground, loblolly pine. The diversity of wildlife was a function of the diversity of vegetation.

The area over which we had been riding and walking had been subdivided and offered for house lots. Then the Suwannee River Water Management District bought it to protect the public from floods and the river from pollution. Canoeing and kayaking are popular everywhere on the river, especially at Little Shoals. Still, most visitors—In fact, most Americans—have yet to make the connection between rivers and wetlands.

The environmental community, which made the connection long ago, preaches about the value of wetlands; but it spends enormous resources attacking businesses that destroy wetlands without attacking the government agencies that permit and encourage the destruction. So savagely has PCS been beaten up by environmentalists that it gets jumpy when approached by reporters, especially reporters from publications like Mother Jones. Some of the pummeling was well deserved and has elicited improved behavior. But, these days, more and more of it is unfair. If all your neighbors were strip miners, you wouldn't have a better one than PCS. It really does make an effort. While it pollutes the Suwannee, it generally dumps no more than 20 percent of the limit allowed on its EPA discharge permit. Pollution is way down because the company has voluntarily reduced its use of groundwater by conserving and recycling. PCS has donated land and money to the town of White Springs for a modern sewage-treatment plant, thereby removing one of the last pollution point sources to the upper Suwannee.

Chastising industry for legally destroying wetlands is like chastising your cat for killing rodents and coughing them up under the dinner table. You can do it, but it won't get you anywhere because that's the nature of the beast. The nature of government, on the other hand, is different. Chastising the executive branch for emasculating the Clean Water Act might just get you some results—especially if you do it with letters to newspapers, on the Internet, and, ultimately, with your vote.