LEFT: Members of the Bob family, step off the ferry for their second adventure at the reserve. They planned their yearly beach vacation around the field trip schedule. 

 RIGHT. Visitors are struck by the biodiversity and beauty of the state's coastal reserves — from submerged seagrass meadows and productive salt marshes teeming 

 marine life to dune fields that manage to sustain bountiful flora, including this colorful Indian blanket. 



her husband advises. "Keep your eyes open. 

 They may surprise us." 



No matter. There's a lot to observe 

 along the carefully plotted interpretive trail. 



The study group includes a grandmother 

 from Michigan visiting North Carolina with 

 her son's family from New Jersey. Her 9- and 

 12-year-old grandsons are two-time reserve 

 "veterans," who are eager to demonstrate the 

 best techniques for spotting prize specimens. 



The roster also includes an extended 

 family with teen-aged girls from Greensboro; 

 a computer program analyst from Georgia, 

 who is rediscovering his native state; and a 

 recent college graduate from Morehead City, 

 who is contemplating marine biology 

 graduate studies. The 13-year-old girl, who is 

 so fascinated with the fiddler crabs, has 

 participated in prior coastal field trips. But, 

 soon she'll move away to another state — far 

 from estuary adventures. 



They'll cluster around each "discovery" 

 and eagerly learn details from the knowledge- 

 able volunteers. 



The visitors are tracing the footsteps of 

 Rachel Carson, the reserve's namesake, who 

 studied these very shoals and waters during 

 research trips in the late 1930s and early 

 1940s. Carson's Beaufort observations are 



well documented in her acclaimed book, 

 The Edge of the Sea about marine ecology. 

 Her later book, Silent Spring, influenced 

 how generations came to understand human 

 impacts on the balance of nature. 



Just as Carson before them, today's 

 visitors take it all in — species, habitat, 

 behavior: a sea squirt; sea lettuce; whelk egg 

 cases; skate purses; spider crabs and mole 

 crabs; tiny shrimp and shiners; coquina 

 clams; and the "chimneys" of plumed 

 worms. 



Nine-year-old Henry Bolo is body 

 trawling along the sandy bottom of the 

 shallow water. He jumps up to share each 

 find — a sand dollar with a flower-etched 

 upper shell, or a clam with its foot protrud- 

 ing from otherwise firmly closed shells. His 

 older brother, Kyle, shares a pair of moon 

 snail egg cases resembling oversized clay 

 bracelets. 



Emily Flora, a teen from Greensboro, 

 holds up a lettered olive for identification. 

 Her mom, Cindy, has found an angel wing 

 shell, but laments having no luck in her quest 

 for a Scotch bonnet shell, the state seashell. 



Mandy Uticone, a reserve intern, is 

 taking notes and samples. Uticone is 

 surveying the island complex for potentially 



invasive plant species. There is concern that 

 the French tamarisk tree has gotten a foothold 

 in part of the reserve and could pose a threat 

 to other native plants. A removal plan will be 

 implemented if the suspicion is confirmed. 



'There's so much to see out here," 

 Uticone says. "There's always something 

 new to learn and to research." 



As though to prove her point, a number 

 of colored buoys bob in surrounding waters. 

 They mark the locations of equipment 

 supporting research projects at the reserve. 



Research resources 



As Steve Ross sees it, the NCNERR is a 

 research laboratory as big as all outdoors. 

 Ongoing research is crucial to developing 

 baseline data about estuarine systems, says 

 Ross, reserve research coordinator. 



The litany of possible research topics 

 seems endless — the effects of hurricanes on 

 water quality, the effects of storm overwash 

 on habitat, the relationship of water quality 

 and fish populations, and a multitude of 

 studies that could contribute to the state's 

 fisheries management plans. 



While the research needs are limitless, 

 the research dollars aren't. 



Continued 



COASTWATCH 19 



