Tampa Bay estuary is gaining seagrass, but northern bay still struggling
When it comes to the seagrass beds that stretch across Florida's largest open-water estuary, there's some good news and bad news.
The good news: For the first time in nearly a decade, Tampa Bay has seen an overall increase in the aquatic plant that curbs erosion, cuts pollution and is a general indicator of the bay's health. Since 2022, the bay has added roughly 1,400 acres of seagrass, or about a 5% gain.
The bad news: The bay's northern section, Old Tampa Bay, is at a record-low amount of seagrass since tracking began in 1988. That part of the bay, beneath three major bridges and thwarted by poor circulation, has lost more than 320 acres of seagrass over the last two years.
Those highs and lows are according to the latest biennial seagrass mapping results from the Southwest Florida Water Management District, presented publicly for the first time Wednesday at a meeting with state and local scientists in downtown St. Petersburg.
'The reason why we map seagrass is because it gives us the pulse of the estuary. And the pulse is better,' said Chris Anastasiou, the district's chief water quality scientist and head of the seagrass mapping program.
'I think we're seeing a positive response, except for Old Tampa Bay,' he said in an interview. Bay experts say that nutrient pollution, paired with additional stress from warm and slow-moving water, are reasons why Old Tampa Bay continues to struggle.
Besides Old Tampa Bay, the other portions of the bay either saw an increase in seagrass beds or remained unchanged from the last survey, according to Anastasiou. There are now more than 31,500 acres of seagrass spanning the entire bay, a total increase of 36% over the past three decades and closer to the overall restoration goal of 40,000 total acres. The lower bay now has a record-high amount of the underwater plant, with just over 8,000 acres.
Beginning their work in December 2023, seagrass experts spent months flying over the bay on clear winter days, taking pictures of the seafloor and studying the results. The data is essentially a snapshot of the bay from this time last year – it doesn't account for the unrelenting hits from Tropical Storm Debby and Hurricanes Helene and Milton.
In 2023, mapping results showed Tampa Bay had lost more than 4,100 acres of seagrass over two years. It was the first time the water district had logged declines in three consecutive studies.
The consensus for why Tampa Bay saw positive gains this time around is, in part, a prolonged period of dry weather, where months of little rainfall threw the region into drought conditions. While drought is good for water quality – less polluted runoff is spilling into the bay – experts were quick to remind the group of scientists Wednesday that drought isn't a restoration strategy.
Over the five-month period when the most recent results were collected, ending in April 2024, there were also tamer red tide conditions compared to past studies. That may have contributed to healthier waters. Plus, the previous round of results were accounting for the Piney Point wastewater disaster, when millions of gallons of pollution were dumped into the bay.
The majority of the estuary's overall gains come from Hillsborough Bay, the waterbody just south of downtown Tampa. A species of long and flat seagrass, called shoal grass, is known to have booms and busts and can spread quickly, and most of the increases across Hillsborough Bay are shoal grass beds, according to the Tampa Bay Estuary Program.
In 2022, Hillsborough Bay had about 400 acres of seagrass. Now it's at more than 1,100 acres – a whopping 185% increase.
'It can be easy to fixate on the negative, especially when it comes to the environment. But Tampa Bay has been, and continues to be a remarkable story of success,' said Maya Burke, assistant director of the Tampa Bay Estuary Program. 'Our story may not be simple — with this year's results showing both record high seagrass coverage in Lower Tampa Bay and record lows in Old Tampa Bay — but we do know how to work together for a better Tampa Bay.'
The Southwest Florida Water Management doesn't just track Tampa Bay's seagrass coverage. On Wednesday, it also unveiled recent survey results for St. Joseph Sound, Sarasota Bay, Lemon Bay and Charlotte Harbor.
Perhaps the biggest success story of this research cycle was Sarasota Bay: That waterway has gained nearly 2,000 acres of seagrass over two years, or a 19% increase overall. Charlotte Harbor, on the other hand, lost nearly 900 acres.
Scientists will take to the skies in December to begin the next two-year seagrass study.
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It feels very lonely when the storms come in Harold Baker of Kentucky The NSF is the principal federal investor in basic science and engineering, and the proposed cut will be devastating in the US and globally. 'Rivers are different all over Appalachia, and if our research continues, we can build accurate flood and landslide models that help communities plan for storms in a changing climate,' said Jason Dortch, who set up the flood lab. 'We've submitted lots of great grant proposals, and while that is out of our hands, we will continue to push forwarded however we can.' *** Fleming-Neon is a former mining community in Letcher county with roughly 500 residents – a decline of almost 40% in the past two decades. The town was gutted by the 2022 storm, and only two businesses, a car repair shop and a florist, reopened. The launderette, pharmacy, dentist, clothing store and thrift shop were all abandoned. Randall and Bonnie Kincer, a local couple who have been married for 53 years, run the flower shop from an old movie theater on Main Street, which doubles up as a dance studio for elementary school children. The place was rammed with 120in of muddy water in 2022. In February, it was 52in, and everything still reeks of mould. The couple have been convinced by disinformation spread by conspiracy theorists that the recent catastrophic floods across the region, as well as Helene, were caused by inadequate river dredging and cloud seeding. The town's sorry plight, according to the Kincers, is down to deliberate manipulation of the weather system paid for by mining companies to flood out the community in order to gain access to lithium. (There are no significant lithium deposits in the area.) Bonnie, 74, is on the brink of giving up on the dance classes that she has taught since sophomore year, but not on Trump. 'I have total confidence in President Trump. The [federal] cuts will be tough for a little while but there's a lot of waste, so it will level out,' said Bonnie, who is angry about not qualifying for Fema assistance. 'We used all our life savings fixing the studio. But I cannot shovel any more mud, not even for the kids. I am done. I have PTSD. We are scared to death,' she said, breaking down in tears several times. The fear is understandable. On the slope facing the studio, a tiered retainer wall has been anchored into the hill to stabilize the earth and prevent an avalanche from destroying the town below. And at the edge of town, next to the power station on an old mine site, is a towering pile of black sludgy earth littered with lumps of shiny coal – the remnants of a massive landslide that happened as residents cleaned up after the February storm. Thomas Hutton's house was swamped with muddy water after the landslide blocked the creek, forcing it to temporarily change course towards a residential street. 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Last year's NSF grant funded new soil and moisture sensors, as well as mini weather stations, which the landslide team is in the process of installing on 14 steep slopes in eastern Kentucky – the first time this has been done – including one opposite Hutton's house. Back at the lab, the geologists will use the data the sensors send back every 15 minutes to create models – and eventually a website where residents and local emergency managers can see how the soil moisture is changing in real time. The goal is to warn communities when there is a high landslide risk based on the soil saturation – and rain forecast. 'We have taken so many resources from these slopes. We need to understand them better,' said Sarah Johnson, a landslide expert. 'We're not sitting in an ivory tower making money from research. The work we do is about making communities safer.'
