Before the Thruway Authority received a permit to begin construction of a new Tappan Zee Bridge, an agreement was struck between the Authority, Scenic Hudson and Riverkeeper to require that series of beneficial projects be undertaken to make up for the impacts on river habitats and protected species. As part of this agreement, funds have been allocated for a Piermont Marsh habitat improvement project. According to Betsy Blair, head of the Hudson River National Estuarine Research Reserve (HRNERR), which manages the marsh and three others on the Hudson, she and the DEC will work with the community, the NYS Office of Parks and Recreation, and NYSTA consultants to identify the best use of these funds within the marsh and the Sparkill Creek.
Aerial studies show that In 1980 phragmites constituted 37% of the marsh. Today approximately 90% of the marsh has been taken over by the rapidly spreading plant which kills other plants around it in part by emitting gallic acid, a toxic compound used in tanning. The primary casualties of the phragmites are the native cordgrasses, Spartina patens, and Spartina alterniflora, which until recent years supported an intricate and diverse salt-marsh ecosystem and once played an important role in the local economies and culture of Piermont and the river villages. Grace Mitchell, Piermont local historian, offers a glimpse into the role of spartina in the history of the area:
According to Anthony Komornick, a Piermont resident, in Piermont “there were special two-wheel carts, with pieces of wood fastened crossways to the wheels, so they wouldn’t be sinking in the meadow itself, and in turn they would spread the hay, pile it up in mounds, and pull the thing from the hay mounds into the road itself, and then by wagon” take it to wherever it was going. In some New England marshes, the horses or oxen that pulled hay wagons “wore bog shoes, blocks of wood attached to each hoof by leather straps” to keep them from sinking into the marsh.
The use of salt hay declined as other types of feed were introduced, but the hay was still cut for a while to be used for a variety of purposes including insulation, packing material, paper making, erosion control and mulch, until its use pretty much came to an end with the advent of more industrial products.
The value of the salt marsh was forgotten by most of society, and the marshes were in fact considered buggy wastelands, best used as dumps. Of course, there were always those who continued to use them for duck hunting, trapping and fishing. But the scientific community had yet to discover their value in the general ecosystem scheme of things.
The article goes on to list various functions of the salt marsh that were beginning to be studied at the time, including “protection or a nursery for spawning fish,” saying that “Almost all the fish, crabs and clams that we eat depend on this type of estuary marsh environment at some stage in their development.” It further reports that “birds also benefit from this rich ecosystem. They use the protective marsh grasses as nesting areas and find many delectable things to eat both from the plants themselves and the creatures that live among them. Other birds just visit, on their migratory path while others make it their permanent home. A study made by the Dept. of Interior estimates that up to 200,000 ducks can be produced in northeastern coastal marshes in a year.
As mentioned in the last NEWSLETTER issue, Tony Amos, Piermont bird authority, has sighted over 155 different species in the Piermont marsh area over the last few years, many very rare to the East Coast.” The ability of marshes to “scrub contaminants from tidal waters” and their role in protecting against shore erosion are also mentioned. The whole article was a rousing celebration of a recently rediscovered treasure. And there was not a single mention of Phragmites australis.
From the time before the earliest European settlers arrived until the time of this research, salt hay lived relatively undisturbed by Phragmites australis, although that plant was a minor character in the life history of the marsh. In the few short years since then, it has taken over and the salt hay has almost entirely disappeared.
Historic photos Courtesy Hudson River Valley Heritage
Contemporary photos by Matthew James Smith