by Sean McManus
Staff Writer
When the Nature Conservancy and the City closed a deal this week on over 9,000 acres, including 18 small islands near the Timucuan Preserve, it was evidence of private and public funds merging to save critical wetlands from the clutches of development.
By all accounts, the land would have been a developer’s dream. Nestled around the Kingsley Plantation and riddled with the feel of Old Florida ruggedness, the property, which runs north of the St. Johns River, south of Cedar Point and east of the Intracoastal Waterway, has long been at the center of negotiations between the Nature Conservancy — fueled by one key local philanthropist — and New York’s Alcoma Corporation, which has owned the land for 50 years. In addition, the mayor’s Preservation Project, the River Management Committee and the St. Johns Water Management District played integral roles, filling what many in the conservation business have called the “hole in the donut” — previously vulnerable land falling inside tracts that are otherwise preserved.
“This is all part of the big picture strategy to preserve these kinds of islands and wetlands,” said David White, who has been with the Nature Conservancy’s Jacksonville office for two years. “This is about preserving biodiversity and maritime hammocks that are critical to migratory birds.”
Hermit crabs scattered in every direction as a small boat, carrying Hallie Stevens, who runs the Nature Conservancy’s Jacksonville office, Richard Bryant, chief of resources stewardship and partnerships for the Timucuan National Preserve, Jim Murrian, director of stewardship for the Nature Conservancy, Joan Dwoskin, a former Akerman Senterfitt lawyer who now works in-house for the Nature Conservancy at their Altamonte Springs headquarters, and White pulled onto one of the two and a half acre islands after departing from Sister’s Creek Marina off Heckscher Drive.
“We hope to start working with the Boys and Girls Clubs to help us clean up some of the garbage out here,” said Stevens, remarking about the beer cans and food wrappers. Oyster shells, which make some of the islands several feet higher than others, were deposited by Timucuan Indians who lived here two centuries ago.
The islands that encompass the Islands Initiative are home to birds such as warblers, south beaks, thrushes and buntings. There’s also possums, raccoons, short-tailed weasels, short-tailed muskrats and fiddler crabs. More menacing is the stinging nettle that grows like poison ivy along the ground and, according to Bryant, whose job it is to know these things, “feels like you’re being attacked by a swarm of bees.” Lore has it, though, that wherever stinging nettle grows, the antidote can’t be far away.
Even before the Timucuan Indians were here, White said, earlier settlers farmed corn, beans and squash on the islands. Bryant said there is also evidence the settlers used fire to clear the land for farming and as a means of what even modern day Florida settlers can relate to — insect control.
Although Bryant is working to garner mitigation dollars to help with any land restoration projects that may be appropriate for the islands, he said that the National Historic Preservation Act requires that serious archeological investigations must be performed before any surface land is altered.
As the boat sped south toward the St. Johns River, roseate birds, which according to White are very uncommon this far north, joined spoonbills, flying across the water to the next nest.
The boat passed one of the bigger islands, Mud Island, a colloquial name because most of islands have no official name. All of these islands were first purchased by the Heckscher family as an investment for a children’s foundation. The Islands Initiative, which will be ongoing, has so far spent $2.5 million for two phases, including money from the City.
Vultures and wood storks sat quietly on trees as Bryant pointed toward Big Talbot Island. In the woods, he said, the State of Florida operates a conference center among some of the private homes. Fishermen in the distance cast for red bass, flounder and trout.
“Most of the time, landowners are happy to sell to the Nature Conservancy,” said White. “As long as the price is competitive.”
White, whose job it is to make initial contact with land owners, said it helps that people feel good about what they’re doing.
“The State really had some foresight to begin looking into this area,” said Bryant. “You’ve seen what’s happened to Anastasia.”
Bryant lives on the Kingsley Plantation site, which in the 1930s served as an “lower wealthy class” retreat. He shares the house with visiting scientists and researchers. The day of the outing, there was a coastal geomorphologist staying upstairs.
In the distance, towards Ft. George, one of the higher elevations had been truncated in the 1920s to make a golf course. But the whole geography of the coast, according to Bryant, changes with the shifting sands.
Bryant pointed to the place where Zephaniah Kingsley used to load cotton onto ships for delivery around the country. Sailboats, he said, are so common in these waters in November, that you often see 15 on any given night.
“The City is really trying to get the word out about the natural amenities you can take advantage of around here,” said White. He said there are at least a dozen different “natural communities” from hickory hammocks to pine flatwood. Gradual “ecotones” where islands meet marsh offer especially scenic views.