Lessons of resilience from the salt marshes
Ecosystem complexity, the passing of time, and tender memories of queerness
Many hellos from Massachusetts. I am writing to you on a trip home to see my family. I spent the week wandering the surrounding area of my parents’ house, revisiting the woods and marshes I used to call home. I continually ruminate on my connection to the Great Marsh, the largest salt marsh system in New England. I’d like to share some of my thoughts with you today, the day before I fly back to Chicago. Thanks so much for reading; I hope you enjoy.
The Great Marsh consists of more than 25,000 acres of marshlands, barrier beaches, estuaries, rivers, mudflats, and uplands. Almost 300 bird species have been spotted in the area, along with nearly 500 plant species.
I grew up on the marshes. I raced bikes with my sister along the narrow road that cuts across the grasses, navigated the river in a small metal skiff with my dad, and splayed on the top of a beat-up car under a wide expanse of stars with my high school lover. One hot afternoon during the summer before senior year, my best friend and I sat on the bank of the river and slid into the water like turtles, searching for the signs of getting older. What happens when we stop measuring time with school years?
In the marsh is where I noticed, with awe, the true complexity and wonder of the natural world. It’s where I watched the golden hour sunset split blades of salt hay in two: half in full sun, and half in deep shade. I watched the wind race across the land, rippling the fields like waves. I tracked seabirds diving wildly for mosquitoes. I ducked into the neighboring woods, constructing a world I could grasp with my two hands.
Salt marshes are some of the most biologically productive systems on earth, equaled only by tropical rainforests. I live in Chicago now, a thousand miles away from the Great Marsh. Still, every time I return, I’ve learned something new about myself, my gender and my queerness. The salt marsh demands that I reflect on those early days before I could even name my queerness.
I just celebrated my 27th birthday. With every year that passes, I grow farther from my 15-year-old self, who was wrestling with my deep love for a girl. The same passing of time uncovers something yet undiscovered: how should I define my gender? I feel the tug back to the familiarity of escaping into the tall grasses to figure it out on my own. Or with a lover in tow.
Salt marshes are built slowly over time, accumulating more sediments from the rising and falling tides. Tides are essential to the system – they deliver sediments and nutrients from the sea.
Highly salt-tolerant species like glasswort and cordgrass are the first to colonize an area. They can withstand consistent saturation and low oxygen conditions.
Their stems slow the flow of water coming from the ocean. The lower velocity allows silt and sediment to settle around the plants. Then, mats of blue-green algae collect around the stems. Even more sediments are trapped in the folds. This process continues until little mounds build up – the higher elevation of the mounds are free from salty water for longer periods, which welcomes less salt-tolerant species into the system.
The marsh’s flat landscapes have been highly attractive to humans through history. The practice of ditching, or digging long trenches to drain the marsh and allow for agriculture and grazing, continued from the colonial period until the early 1900s. Then, the destructive practice picked back up in the Great Depression in an effort to fully drain the marsh and quell mosquito populations.
This practice ultimately harmed the killifish species, which was a main predator of mosquitoes. This also harmed seabirds that rely on both species.
The complexity of ecosystems might be overwhelming – how can we possibly begin to describe all these intricate relationships between the sea, the land, the organisms, and interminable time?
I tend to approach this question with wonder for the sheer vastness. With every question I begin to answer about the marsh, countless questions arise. I surrender to the questions and allow myself to leave as many unanswered as I can. There’s no need to understand it all.
Salt marshes are one of the best protective measures against the effects of climate change. As long as sea level rise continues at a steady enough pace, salt marshes can keep up, accumulating silt as the ocean advances.
This process is called biogeomorphic feedback – the higher the seas rise, the marsh can rise to meet it.
Restoration efforts are currently underway in the Great Marsh. Marshes sequester carbon more effectively than forests, protect coastal communities against storm surges, and filter potentially harmful nutrients. They’re also essential habitats for vulnerable species.
The Trustees, a non-profit land conservation organization, began restoring the Great Marsh in 2020. Volunteers and workers fill in the old ditches with salt hay, allowing the same creation process to repeat - slowing the flow of water, introducing sediment and algae.
I live in Chicago now, and I relate to my queerness in a different way when I’m there. In the city, I feel free to explore gender and sexuality more creatively, mostly because so many of my friends and neighbors are doing the same. I frequently meet people who are curious and expansive. I am also lucky to go out with them, to dance with them, and to make dinner for them. But, I still feel the distance from the marshes when I’m away. They are where I went to mull over my most existential questions, where I’d wonder how my family would react to my queerness.
I used to be fearful of all I didn’t know about myself. How will I know what my gender is? How should I describe my sexuality? Which box can I check on the form?
Now, I know enough to simply surrender. I know there is so much left to learn, but all I can hope to understand is all that I’ve already lived and untangled.
Wikipedia Page Suggestions
Salt Marsh - Bioturbation - Cloud - Biogeomorphology - Paul Revere
Resources for Exploration
Video of the restoration efforts in the Great Marsh - Chronicle
You're so right, we don't need to understand everything whether that be when it comes to the marsh or our lives. I love your work!