COMMUNITY COMMENTARY:Back Bay: Our backyard estuary

The Upper Newport Bay Ecological Reserve is a 752-acre wetland habitat where salt and fresh water meet and mix to form one of Southern California’s few remaining estuaries.

This refuge is home to nearly 200 species of birds, and during the migration season they bring their friends — as many as 30,000 migrating birds seek shelter before resuming their journey to whatever destination for which they are headed.

The daily conditions, both ephemeral and challenging, create unique moments for the visitor, especially for those who attune both their eyes and ears to the many songs of the Back Bay.

Varied habitats, including freshwater ponds, riparian woodlands and upland habitats combine with the seasons and tides to produce an ever-changing display of beauty.

An astute visitor may notice that most wildlife seek refuge before dusk, when predators, including owls, bats and other nocturnal animals, are on the prowl. Each species, whether common or rare, has a timetable based on the availability of its preferred food.

The dynamics that occur between the prey and predator is part of the ecosystem that further increases the value of the Back Bay. In order to capture an impression of this unique area, one does not need to be a professional photographer. Each hour of the day offers photographic opportunities that are becoming increasingly rare in today’s busy world.

I decided to explore the salt marsh, which is dominated by a salt-tolerant plant called pickleweed. Don’t be fooled by the simple appearance of pickleweed. It filters out the salt with its complex system of tiny pumps and storage facilities. Pickleweed provides shelter and camouflage for the diverse animal and invertebrate populations including the endangered Belding’s Savannah Sparrow. Plein-air painters capture pickleweed in its natural light throughout the year.

As I continue to observe the salt marsh, I hear birds singing and a frog crooning away with its throaty call. Frogs were the first land animals to get a voice, and their vocal sacs fill with air to amplify the sound. Only the male calls — either to proclaim his territory or to attract females.

I am here now at low tide, when nature provides a bountiful feast. I notice clusters of horse mussels. Instead of attaching to an object like most kinds of mussels, the horse mussel is a stick in the mud. It cocoons into the mud with its shell partially open for filter feeding and never leaves. Couch potatoes take comfort — these “sticks in the mud” enjoy a longer life span than more adventurous mussels.

Due to the recently receding tide, the mud is supple, and a smorgasbord of nutrients awaits the magnificent great blue heron. If you think that Sanjaya Malakar of “American Idol” can attract attention, wait till you see the striking features and movements of the heron.

The bird is radiant, graceful and very attentive to its mate. It presents sticks to the female, who uses them in building a nest. The female lays three to five eggs. The heron is celebrated among bird watchers and poets, and is the icon for an annual music festival. The great blue heron is the mascot/logo over at the Bolsa Chica Land Trust. Its name “Cool Azul” came from a comment made by one of the little kids in the “Miracles of the Marsh” program for schoolchildren.

I was introduced to marine science at an early age by my family, who was interested in natural history. Along with my siblings and cousins, I took summer classes at the Woods Hole Science School in Massachusetts. A portion of the time was spent in an austere New England classroom with straight-back wooden chairs. The school room was embellished with large jars containing solutions that preserved all kinds of marine organisms. Most of the time, though, the class was conducted outside and explored the diverse habitats that characterize Woods Hole, the mecca of the finest scientists in the world. On one of my field trips, I remember intently staring into the nearby pond at a prehistoric-looking horseshoe crab that seemed to be pointing its long tail straight at me. My teacher told me the horseshoe crab, which moved slowly, was older than dinosaurs. My frequent investigations at an early age furthered my appreciation and understanding of a coastal environment.

Part of the city’s present effort is completion of the Back Bay Science Center, a facility that will provide estuarine education and water-quality testing and study. Our goal is to educate the present generation, which will pass on this knowledge to future generations. Naturalists and researchers from UC Irvine are playing an early role in the development of the curriculum. Technicians at the laboratory will measure the amount of salinity as pollutants. The on-site lab will produce same-day results that will aid in enhanced resource management. Management of the Upper Newport Bay commensurate with the standards applicable to our nation’s most valuable natural resources is a goal of our general plan.

Independent of the city and my political association, I love the Upper Newport Back Bay Reserve, which has provided me with a link to my past. In my next article, I will write about local efforts to restore the big canyon creek freshwater pond and riparian woodland.