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Natural History
The horizon's edge, the flying sea-crow, the He lurched toward me. His feet sucking like two giant toilet plungers. The stench of rotten eggs wafted over me as the hot sun beat down. A mirror-like eye stared at my forehead. It was aimed right at me: this was it! "I'm stuck! he wailed, "Give me a hand. I'm going to lose my boot." I inched forward and reached out my hand. "Pretty sticky isn't it?" I offered. The cameraman was not quite prepared for this gumbo. He was trying to line up the best angle for shooting a scene about the value of mud flats. I could see he wasn't too convinced about its value. It was going to be a hard sell! I guess he hadn't heard Flanders and Swan's "Mud, mud, glorious mud! There's nothing quite like it for cooling the blood". Or if he had, he didn't agree with them. We were pre-taping a piece about the micro-organisms that live in mud. I was about to do my imitation of David Attenborough. Later, in the lab, I would combine images of live animals under the microscope with this location shot for a television broadcast. Users of the Tsawwassen ferry terminal may have noticed the expanses of mud beside the causeway. This is typical of estuaries and shallow bays along the coast. I suspect that most people view it as a wasteland of mud, assuming that it's not much good for anything. But this apparently useless mud is a prime habitat in the marine ecosystem -- and worthy of preserving. An annual cycle of life plays out, largely unseen to all but the closest observers. It starts in the summer. During the growing season, marine plants such as eelgrass and single-celled diatoms flourish in these warm, shallow expanses. They convert sunlight and carbon dioxide into plant tissue. The weight of plant growth per square metre that is added in one year is a measure of productivity. Shallows like this can produce twice as much plant growth as an average farm field. Alas, acres of seaweed, march grasses and diatoms submerged beneath the sea tend to go unnoticed. But if these acres of mud produced loaves of bread instead, we would be very impressed! In the fall, plants that have not been eaten, die and settle to the bottom. Then, bacteria take over and begin the decay process. Oxygen penetrates only the top few centimetres of mud. Below this oxygenated layer, bacteria decompose the dead plants by converting them to hydrogen sulphide (the rotten egg smell), ammonia, methane and hydrogen. As these small molecules seep upward towards the surface, other types of bacteria oxidize them as an energy source. One study estimated up to 17 billion bacteria per cubic centimetre live in the surface layers of this organic mud. Without them, dead animals and plants would not decompose into simple compounds that can be used by other organisms. The system would come to a grinding halt, as few of the nutrients locked up in plants would become available. Tiny crustaceans crawl around in the mud: copepods, sand fleas, isopods, small shrimp and crabs sift out the worms and ciliates with their hairy mouthparts. The crustaceans are eaten by juvenile fish and many types of birds. These food chains in the mud distribute the energy captured by plants to all the users of this habitat, and create the great productivity of this ecosystem. A mud flat is a source of energy, a starting point and a birthplace of future generations. So please don't despise mud. Enough of: "a pox damn you, you muddy rascal", "here's mud in your eye" and "yuck". Let's celebrate mud. Give mud its rightful place in our value system. Without that glorious mud, our environment would be a much poorer place.
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