Mobile Baykeeper

This article is from Mobile Baykeeper’s print quarterly, CURRENTS. The magazine is mailed to active members who have given more than $50 in 2023. To get on the magazine’s mailing list, donate at https://www.pledge.to/MobileBaykeeper. You Are What You Eat by Edward Denton How often do you think about whether the fish on your dinner plate is safe to eat? This question should resonate with anyone who wants to utilize the bountiful resources the Mobile Bay Watershed has to offer. Fish consumption advisories are published in our state by the Alabama Department of Public Health, which provides critical information about which fish in specific waterways are safe to consume. Mobile Baykeeper is working toward a future where our community no longer has to ask whether they can eat what they catch. To accomplish this, we need to understand what causes advisories to be put into place, how we as humans interact with our environment to influence these factors, and the scope of the problem. Within the past several decades, certain types of fish have been found to contain elevated levels of certain contaminants, such as methyl-mercury and polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs). These contaminants can be harmful to human health if ingested in large amounts over an extended period of time, leaving anglers and their families who frequently eat certain species especially vulnerable. In the Mobile River Basin, all restrictions for fish consumption are due to methyl-mercury contamination. Fish that are at the top of the food chain and have a long lifespan are more likely to contain higher levels of mercury. Through a process called biomagnification, all the mercury that is present in smaller critters is absorbed by larger animals when consumed through the food chain. This gives a whole new meaning to “you are what you eat.” Mercury-related fish consumption advisories not only impact the health of local residents, but are particularly concerning to vulnerable populations such as children, pregnant women, and nursing mothers. This is because infants and children, whose nervous systems are still being formed, are more sensitive to the potential health effects of contaminants and may be more likely to experience immediate or long-term health complications, such as birth abnormalities. High levels of mercury can damage the brain and nervous system, leading to symptoms such as tremors, memory loss, and numbness in the hands and feet. Long-term exposure to mercury has been linked to damage of the kidneys and kidney failure and cardiovascular problems which can lead to increased risk of heart attack and stroke. Besides human health, fish consumption advisories also impact the local economy and culture, as fishing is an important recreational and commercial activity in the waters around Mobile Bay. To address this issue, the state performs monitoring efforts and issues annual fish consumption advisories for many waterways throughout the state, including Mobile Bay, the Mobile-Tensaw Delta, and many of the rivers and creeks that flow into Mobile and Baldwin counties. These advisories provide specific guidance on which types of fish are safe to eat and in what quantities, based on the levels of contaminants found in the fish. Each advisory, specific to each location and species, says one of four things: “No restriction”, “1 meal/month”, “2 meals/month”, and “Do Not Eat Any.” Some of the advisories apply to “all species” in the body of water. Otherwise, the advisories are species-specific. Largemouth bass, striped mullet, black crappie, spotted bass, blue catfish, and channel catfish are just some of the species mentioned in Mobile and Baldwin counties. In fact, there are a total of 51 advisories for the Mobile Bay area as of 2022. As we continue to understand how this work and future work will be impactful toward reducing fish consumption advisories, we ask that you stay aware of which species and waterways are listed in your area of interest. Just call the Alabama Fish Consumption Advisory Hotline, a free resource provided by Waterkeepers of Alabama (844-219-7475), and dial “4” for our area. If you teach a man to fish, he’ll eat for a lifetime. If you teach him to call the Fish Consumption Advisory Hotline, he can eat healthily as well. Alabama has an opportunity to protect the health of everyone who eats wild-caught fish from our waters with the Safe and Healthy Outdoor Recreation (SHOR) Act of 2023. The act, if passed, will ensure outdoor recreationists, paddlers, swimmers, and fishermen across Alabama are better informed about fish consumption advisories in our rivers, streams, creeks, and bays. This bill has bipartisan support in the Alabama Senate. Learn more and contact your state representative about supporting the SHOR ACT at MobileBaykeeeper.org.

Connecting with Oysters in Alabama by Josh Tolbert When we talk about the best parts of our job here at Mobile Baykeeper, we never fail to mention the days we get out of the office and in the water. Recently, the Patrol Team went out to spend a day learning more about oyster farming and the problems oysters face in coastal Alabama. The prospect of wading out to see live oysters and how they can be raised kept our spirits high on a chilly day in the water. The car ride down was a nice drive with beautiful views of the morning sun rising over the bay. We arrived at the home of Andy DePaola, situated on the western shore of Mobile Bay. Greeted by a cold northeast wind, we stood eating blood oranges from Mr. DePaola’s tree while he showed us early prototypes for his oyster farming invention dubbed “The Shellevator.” After a short walk to look at his hanging oyster baskets on the dock and a waded tour of the shoreline, we set off to Coden to get our hands dirty. There is one constant in coastal Alabama and that is that things are always changing. Perhaps no other creature feels the dynamic effects of tides, salinity, and temperatures as much as the oyster does. While fish and other animals can move themselves to different areas, oysters are sessile or stationary. They can not move on their own, except for a brief period when they are microscopic larvae. Oysters are resilient creatures that provide a myriad of ecosystem benefits from habitat creation to water filtration and nutrient sequestration. However, even with their resilient adaptations, they can become stressed when faced with both natural and manmade pressures. Extensive oyster populations were once found throughout Mobile Bay and the Mississippi Sound. However, the overharvest of reefs for both food and industrial uses like concrete during the 20th century have caused a collapse of the historic populations along Alabama’s coast. Once gone, oysters and all the benefits they provide are hard to restore. These ancient oyster populations were created over vast periods of time and will take a good while to recover. But it’s not all doom and gloom for our oysters. There are current attempts at restoring some of the historic populations. Main efforts have been concentrated around Cedar Point and areas westward with varying success. These new reefs use artificial materials, recycled concrete, and limestone to give wild oysters structure to cling onto. Despite these efforts, there are still many issues facing oysters today. Stormwater runoff from increasingly urbanized areas, sewage spills, and nutrient input contribute pollution and cause algal blooms which starve the oysters of oxygen. Climate change pressures such as increasing temperature and sea level rise will continue to become a bigger threat to wild oysters as well as farmed ones. Additionally, ocean acidification can lead to thinner oyster shells and a greater sensitivity to predation. Once we reached the Mississippi Sound, we donned our waders and climbed into the calm and clear water. We made our way to what looked like a miniature barge carrying hundreds of oysters in baskets, Andy’s “Shellevator.” Soon, we were handling oysters, weighing bags, and transferring to prevent overcrowding. Before we knew it, it was time to head back to the office for some well-deserved lunch. While wading back to shore, we saw what remained of an old oyster reef. The sandy bottom changed to a harder substrate, and looking down, we could see pieces of shell stuck to the bottom. It was a strong reminder of what we once had and what Mobile Baykeeper hopes to one day see return.

This article is from the fall edition of Mobile Baykeeper’s print quarterly, CURRENTS. The magazine is mailed to active members who have given more than $50 in 2023. To get on the magazine’s mailing list, please make a donation at https://www.pledge.to/MobileBaykeeper In towns like Bayou La Batre and Biloxi, the non-profit BPSOS empowers Vietnamese-Americans to lead fuller lives. The Boat People By Caine O’Rear For Americans watching the fall of Saigon on April 30, 1975 — the day that officially marked the end of the Vietnam War — the chaotic scenes from our Embassy rooftop were the closing images of a long and tragic chapter in our history. For many of our South Vietnamese allies, along with scores of others from war-torn Indochina, it was the beginning of another chapter in their American story. The story of their flight from Vietnam, and the daring in their undertaking, reads as though it were taken from the pages of one of the great 17th-or 18th- century immigration sagas. On any craft they could find, most of them wooden, many of them hardly sea-worthy, these refugees left by the thousands, risking everything in search of a better life. The ones who fled would come to be known the world over as “the boat people.” It is estimated that from 1975 to 1995, some 800,000 refugees left Vietnam alone. At sea, they faced storms, disease, and even pirates. The dangers were so great and so common that their exodus became an international crisis. The United Nations reports that somewhere between 200,000 to 400,000 boat people died at sea. Many of those who survived settled along the Gulf Coast. The commonality of coastal life with its fishing and shrimping and related industries made it a familiar haven. Since the time of the refugee crisis, Vietnamese-Americans — along with other immigrants from Laos and Cambodia — have been a fixture in the seafood and shrimping industries in Bayou La Batre. It was here they worked on the boats and in the seafood processing plants, playing a critical role in the town’s culture. For most of the boat people in the U.S., the challenges of assimilation have been prolonged and acute. It is from this environment that the non-profit Boat People SOS was born. A national non-profit organization, BP-SOS has six locations across the country, including offices in Bayou La Batre and Biloxi. The organization, which originally assisted with at-sea rescue missions for refugees stranded in the South China Sea, helps today with a range of issues that include domestic violence, work safety, translation, health care, and income-tax preparation. Many of the refugees who left Indochina fled in extremis, and were wholly unprepared for life in the U.S. “We came from a communal society where we relied on our neighbors,” Thang Nguyễn, president and CEO of BPSOS, told Comcast Newsmakers last year. “We didn’t have that reconstructed in America, and therefore, we suffered a lot of trauma.” Today, in Bayou La Batre, Kim-Lien Tran is in charge of operations at BPSOS. Things are tough these days for many in Bayou La Batre, and for the Southeast Asian community in particular; for the town is not the thriving place it once was. The economic downturn in the shrimping industry has hit fishermen and shrimpers especially hard, with some shrimpers struggling to put food on the table. Vietnamese refugees rest as crewmen aboard the guided missile cruiser USS FOX (CG-33) give them something to drink. June 1982. Public Domain. Via Wikipedia. “It’s hard work, hands-on, and long hours,” says Tran. With the price of diesel so high, she says many Southeast Asian shrimpers are choosing not to go out this year. “It is a struggle,” says Kiet Nguyễn, who is in charge of the Biloxi office. “Some will go out and actually lose money. Your deckhands will stick with you for a few trips, but after a few with no money, they will leave. It’s a Catch-22.” Nguyễn says he is not aware of anyone in the Southeast Asian community having purchased a fishing- or shrimp-boat recently. “Mom and Dad, who were first generation, worked their butt off [shrimping] for the kids to go to school,” he says. “Back then they were making decent money. But the [second and third generation] kids don’t want to do this kind of work.” In Bayou La Batre, Tran uses her first-hand experience to help others. Like other “boat people,” she came to the U.S. as a young child shortly after the fall of Saigon. The family was originally from North Vietnam but had relocated to the South where they left on a wooden fishing vessel. Like many of the boats that attempted to make the voyage, the vessel became distressed and was rescued by the U.S. Navy in the South China Sea and taken to Guam. The family was sponsored by the Archdiocese of New Orleans and was able to relocate to the Crescent City, where her father found work as a carpenter. For Nguyễn and his family, the road to America was long and winding. In the late ’70s his father, a former South Vietnamese soldier, was arrested and put in a re-education camp after the country’s unification under Communist ruler Ho Chi Minh. After his father’s release the family was placed in the “New Economic Zone,” where living conditions were deplorable. His father and brother tried to escape Vietnam (there was only enough money for two of the family to attempt escape at the time) but the boat was beset by Thai pirates. Eventually, they made it to the U.S., arriving in Long Beach, Mississippi, in 1981. When Nguyễn was six years old, he tried to escape with his mother and sister but the family was apprehended. As a result, his mother was sentenced to nine months hard labor in a prison camp. “I had a good time in there,” he says somewhat jokingly. “No school.” They were eventually released but tried to escape again, and, again, they were arrested. It wasn’t until 1991 that Nguyen was able to make it safely to the U.S., though it was through “paperwork” this time and not by boat. Today, Tran and Nguyễn use their experience to help empower the Southeast Asian community in the face of today’s challenges. With everything from hurricanes to macro-economic pressures in any given season, the challenges facing immigrant communities on the coast can by many. To this end, BPSOS is here to foster fellowship and lend a helping hand.