By Erik Hoffner for Mongabay.
Broadcast version by Kathryn Carley for Maine News Service reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration

January brought a pair of rough storms to the northeastern U.S. They hit when the tides were high and pushed higher than normal by rising sea levels, setting numerous high-water records and prompting Maine Governor Janet Mills to request a federal disaster declaration. These events, just three days apart, built on damage suffered during another storm during the December 2023 holidays and another during the previous December.

"Extensive" is the word that Peter Slovinsky, a marine geologist for the Maine Geological Survey, chose to describe the most recent damage during an interview with Mongabay. He pointed to an estimate that 60% of Maine's working waterfronts were severely damaged. "We saw numerous seawall failures and erosion of anywhere between 15 to even up to 30 feet [4.5-9 meters] of coastal sand dunes, and massive bluff failures also," Slovinsky said.

The common response to busted docks, condemned houses, shrinking shorelines, disappearing dunes and faltering bluffs has been to bolster the shore with 'hard' infrastructure like concrete jetties and breakwaters of imported boulders. But those interventions are expensive, carbon-intensive, and ultimately ineffective due to continual sea level rise.

Increasingly, agencies like Slovinsky's have been experimenting with a more natural and possibly more effective approach called living shorelines. The U.S. National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) defines these as "projects that connect the land and water to stabilize shorelines, reduce erosion, and provide valuable habitat that enhances coastal resilience."

Such projects often take the shape of phalanxes of buried Christmas trees that shore up dunes, mesh bags of shells placed to protect mudflats from erosion, and salt-loving grasses and shrubs planted to stabilize nearshore areas.

Development of living shorelines is widely credited to the late Edgar William Garbisch Jr., a chemistry professor turned wetland restorationist who piloted the approach's early methods and philosophy during the early 1970s in Chesapeake Bay. The aim is to protect coastal ecosystems like marshes and beaches with natural assets that create habitat while anchoring the shore. This method has gained increasing traction along much of the U.S. East Coast, from Georgia on north, as communities have begun to confront the impacts of human-caused climate change, including worsening storms and sea level rise, which is set to increase a further 0.6-1.2 m (2-4 feet) by 2100.

While Maine's official experiments with such interventions at places like Popham and Pemaquid beaches have seen varying levels of success among their dunes and marshes, one Belfast area entrepreneur is innovating new ways of leveraging the living shorelines concept to protect another ubiquitous coastal feature: sandy bluffs.

On a recent morning, contractor Paul Bernacki showed a Mongabay reporter around his latest project site on the Blue Hill Peninsula in Midcoast Maine, where a homeowner had hired him to preserve an eroding bluff along 2,000 ft (610 m) of shoreline. His vision for shoring it up differed greatly from others the property's owner initially approached: "The engineers and their contractors wanted to kill all the trees on the shore, move the bank back 10 feet [3 m] at the top, and then pile 200 truckloads of rocks all the way around," he said.

"Their solution to stabilization is to kill nature. Is that technically feasible for the whole coast of Maine?" Bernacki asked.

He said he doesn't think so, and his team has been pairing a fresh take on the living shorelines best management practices with power tools to shore up this crumbling cliff and its line of oak trees and house in danger of tipping into the salt pond below.

The home is perched on one of Maine's many so-called "erodible bluffs." Despite the rocky shore postcard pictures, 40% of the state's coast is classified as this mix of sand, rock and vegetation that's vulnerable to wave action and scouring by wind-driven blocks of ice. Bernacki's team shores up land like this not with imported rocks, but with natural and often local materials.

Among these are logs (sometimes including drift logs) and salt-tolerant plants often germinated from regionally wildcrafted seed stocks, plus imported materials like coconut fiber-based coir landscape fabric shaped into long tubes and filled with a matrix of soil and organics. These tubes, affectionately called "Tootsie Rolls," are positioned behind rows of logs pinned down with rebar to form tiers and planted with salt-loving grasses like northern sea oats (Chasmanthium latifolium) or broomsedge (Andropogon virginicus).

Seaside goldenrod (Solidago sempervirens), swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) and white yarrow (Achillea millefolium) are also planted, and on the bluff above these, perennial shrubs like winter berry (Ilex verticillata), Virginia rose (Rosa virginiana) and beach plum (Prunus maritima). Finally, rocks are placed among the logs to break up waves and scouring ice, until the plants' roots get established.

This increasingly popular approach - which looks attractive while creating habitat for birds, bugs and nearshore creatures - often costs less than the imported rock or manufactured cement of seawalls and breakwaters, while being as effective or better. NOAA estimates that living shorelines can cost less than hard shorelines, both in terms of installation and maintenance, with costs ranging from less than $1,000 up to $5,000 per linear foot ($3,300-$16,400/m) of shoreline. Installing hard options, by contrast, typically ranges from $2,000 and up per linear foot ($6,600/m), according to The Maine Monitor. Maintenance of living shorelines costs about $100 per foot ($330/meter) annually, according to NOAA, while repairing hard shorelines costs from $100 to $250 per linear foot ($330-$820/m).

While some say it's a winner on cost, that's also likely in terms of carbon if one considers a life-cycle analysis of living shorelines, which is where Bernacki stresses the big difference lies. "The carbon footprint of our work is minimal for the dollar," he says.

Following the recent storm trio, he reported that his team's current project withstood the elements well, with no damage to the newly established structures or the bluff, which was also helped by the site being more protected than if it were right on the bay. Still, some of the less salt-tolerant plants higher up on the bluff were inundated by the tide, and may need replacing if they don't green up in the spring.

Perhaps because Maine has been slower than other states to enact broad regulations for the various situations that living shorelines could apply to, like erodible bluffs, such private- and contractor-led efforts are getting greater attention from landowners, said coastal geologist Slovinsky. "I've had more people than ever in the last couple of years call and say, 'Hey, my bluff is eroding, but I don't want to build a seawall, what do I do?' So, I point them to our coastal property owner guide that I wrote a couple years ago," he said.

In nearby New Hampshire, which has worked living shorelines into state regulations already, there's a similar level of interest and several projects underway at sites like Cutts Cove in Portsmouth, which also weathered the recent storms well. And, like Bernacki's team, they've made an effort to incorporate naturally available and sometimes free resources found onsite in their construction, like local plants, tree stumps and drift logs.

"The thinking is that over time, as the tree stumps and drift logs decompose, the near vertical riprap sill will slowly shift into a more gradual and natural slope," said Grant McKown, a coastal habitat research associate for the Jackson Estuarine Laboratory at the University of New Hampshire, via email. "Additionally, the use of drift logs and trees in the sill construction enhances the physical heterogeneity of the sill, providing additional refuge for nekton (mobile aquatic animals) during high tide and additional surface area for macroalgae (like Fucus and Ascophyllum) to colonize," he wrote.

Is it enough to successfully hold back the rising tides, though?

Back in Maine, results vary. One Freeport-area homeowner reported in January that their $40,000 living shoreline had been washed away. But while Bernacki's current project fared fine, he was philosophical on the question: "Success to me is restoring this habitat - instead of destroying more habitat to protect property," he said. "That, you really can't justify."

So, everything is on the table after the recent spate of storms, including the old standby, Slovinsky said: "One of the things I'm pessimistic about is the response that we're seeing thus far from these storms: more rock," in the form of rapidly rebuilt seawalls and breakwaters.

It's probably going to take advocacy and many more contractors to push his state to roll out a regulatory regime for naturally protecting its iconic shore, both for official and private projects. But momentum is building among Maine's landowners, at least, who are increasingly willing to spend more for waterfront property despite sea level rise: "I'm getting a new call once a week," Bernacki said.

So, like the wetland plants sown by his crew, the number of landowners interested to employ natural solutions, rather than piling up yet more rocks against an ever-rising tide, is also growing.


Erik Hoffner wrote this article for Mongabay.


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Christmas, it turns out, is for the birds, at least for those that will be counted this year in the National Audubon Society's Christmas Bird Count.

The nearly monthlong bird count takes place around the country. Birders will go through a circled area with a 15-mile radius, counting the number of birds they see or hear.

Steve Sheffield, professor of biology at Bowie State University and vice president of the Maryland Ornithological Society, said the data gathered across the country will help map the trends and movements in bird populations.

"You can look at the population trends of each of the species and see where they're headed, whether their trajectory is up or down or whether they're stable," Sheffield outlined. "You can also look at where you are seeing the numbers. You're getting an idea of how the birds are moving due to climate change."

For counters who can identify bird calls, Sheffield noted they only need to hear a bird in order to count it, which helps with species flying silently, such as owls.

Sheffield emphasized collecting a century's worth of data is invaluable to bird conservation efforts. Birds, he added, are often a strong indicator of the overall health of ecosystems and are easily found and measured the world over.

One of the trends the bird count tracks is what Sheffield called "irruptive species," those forced to move south because food supplies in their local ecosystems run low.

"We get these birds showing up, like snowy owls, evening grosbeaks, purple finches, red-breasted nuthatches," Sheffield observed. "You could go several years and you won't find any of them. All of a sudden, one year, you have many of those species. That tells you some information about their habitat conditions."

The bird count begins Dec. 14 and goes through Jan. 5. The count is conducted by thousands of volunteers in more than 20 countries in the Western Hemisphere.


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A New Mexico agency has stepped up vigilance of the state's limited water resources.

On Tuesday, the New Mexico Water Quality Control Commission approved a designation to protect more than 250 miles in five watersheds, including the Rio Grande. A coalition of state groups including anglers, local governments, acequia members and conservation groups were seeking the "Outstanding National Resource Waters" designation.

Ralph Vigil, northern organizer for the nonprofit New Mexico Wild, said the classification will protect traditional community water uses and safeguard waterways from the degradation new uses often inflict.

"I think that we, as people living in this time, need to take the necessary steps," Vigil asserted. "Because I believe we're living in a tipping point where either we do it or we're going to get to a point that it's so far gone that there's no such thing as clean water anymore."

The designation protects traditional community water uses and safeguard waterways from degradation from mining, development and transportation, waste disposal, recreational overuse and the effects of climate change. It will also help sustain outdoor activities such as fishing, hunting, hiking and camping.

Nick Streit, executive director of Friends of Rio Grande del Norte National Monument and co-owner of the Taos Fly Shop, explained the value of protecting the resource.

"My father started the business back in 1980 and I've been running it with my wife for the last 20 years and it's our sole income," Streit explained. "Protecting the water is also protecting kind-of our livelihood."

Vigil, an organic farmer, said clean rivers and streams are vital to New Mexico's agricultural economy, which depends on clean water to grow healthy crops.

"As we move forward with uncertainty as far as what might happen to our protections for clean water throughout the state this whole ONRW designation will help ensure that more of our streams within our state are protected," Vigil emphasized.

Some conservationists worry the incoming Trump administration will repeal clean water legislation approved by President Joe Biden, including an order for utilities to start ridding the nation's drinking water of forever chemicals known as PFAS, which are linked to cancer and other health risks.

Support for this reporting was provided by The Pew Charitable Trusts.

Protesters are gathering at the Columbus Public Safety Building today to voice opposition to plans that could expand fracking activities near the state's parks.

Participants are raising concerns over environmental and health risks, emphasizing the potential dangers to Ohio's natural spaces.

Jenny Morgan, a longtime activist and environmental advocate, highlighted the potential health hazards associated with fracking.

"This accident-prone industry that uses dangerous chemicals, creates radioactive waste," said Morgan. "Ohio park lovers are not being properly informed of the risk to the lands that they own, where they take their children. It's wrong."

Morgan cited a 2022 Harvard study linking fracking to increased radioactive particles in areas downwind of drilling sites.

The Ohio Oil and Gas Association defends the industry, asserting that advances in technology and oversight minimize risks, while emphasizing the economic benefits and jobs it brings to the state.

Melinda Zemper - a steering committee member of Save Ohio Parks - stressed the importance of preserving Ohio's public lands for future generations, and said the public deserves more transparency about the long-term effects of fracking.

"These are public lands that belong to the people of Ohio, not to one or two political administrations," said Zemper. "We want our children - and our grandchildren - to be able to enjoy these natural resources in perpetuity, because that's how they were established."

Roxanne Groff, a former Athens County commissioner and environmental activist, noted how industry promises have shaped local perceptions.

"Sadly," said Groff, "what keeps most people from Appalachia from participating in the protesting is they believe the industry lies that they are going to get jobs, and they're going make money, and their communities are going to prosper. People fight to get their leases bought."

The protest, set to take place at 12:15 p.m, is part of a growing movement across Ohio to raise awareness about the environmental costs of fracking.




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