Take a mouthwatering trip down Alabama's Barbecue Trail
Texas has brisket, Memphis has ribs. The Carolinas enjoy their pulled pork, and Kansas City is all about the sauce game. But not many immediately associate barbecue with Alabama Well, except for one thing—the mayonnaise-y white sauce.
While the state's polarizing contribution to the American barbecue consciousness celebrates its 100th anniversary this year, there's much more to the state's barbecue than white sauce, and many Alabamians would proudly put their barbecue among the best in the country. With a mouthwatering Alabama Barbecue Trail—from civil rights hot spots to 100-year-old joints—there's no better way to uncover Alabama's unique cuisine and history than biting into it. The origins of Alabama barbecue
Barbecue borrows the cooking methods of Native Americans, meats and sauces of European immigrants, and the labor (meaning recipes and know-how) of Africans to create a taste that is perhaps singularly American. In Alabama, barbecue—as a food, social gathering, and style of cookery—has been an essential part of life and society for ages.
Barbecues were not only used for celebrations and commemorations, they were also so intertwined in political processes that the state government tried banning them altogether in the 1800s.
But Alabama barbecue as we know it today didn't come into its own until the late 1800s with the rise of the interstate, and joints started sprouting up along major highway routes between Southern cities. While barbecue in neighboring states developed identities that captivated Americans, Alabama barbecue hasn't really caught on in the national psyche.
'I think not being recognized as one of the barbecue regions like Kansas City, Texas, Memphis, and the Carolinas has maybe ruffled some feathers,' says Mark Johnson, author of An Irresistible History of Alabama Barbecue. 'There's a sense of pride here. Alabamians will defend their barbecue against anyone else's.'
So, what is Alabama barbecue?
'Alabamians don't even agree on what barbecue is,' says Johnson. 'Chicken and white sauce is the specialty of North Alabama, Decatur, and Huntsville. Birmingham is very much dominated by pulled pork with a tomato-based sauce. And then in Tuscaloosa, it's by far ribs with a vinegar-forward sauce that's got some kick to it. When you get closer to the Georgia border, you start seeing the South Carolina mustards creeping in.'
(6 barbecue styles, from Alabama white sauce to Memphis pork ribs) The rise of white sauce
Inextricably linked to Alabamians' appetites like apple pie to the broader U.S., Alabama's white sauce is a concoction of bubbling hot mayonnaise mixed with a hefty dose of vinegar and black pepper.
The creation is the brainchild of a railway worker turned pitmaster named 'Big Bob' Gibson, who, back in the day, soaked his pit-cooked chickens in this barbecue sauce to prevent them from drying out. Now celebrating its 100-year-anniversary, Big Bob's namesake sauce and restaurant in Decatur is a juggernaut on the world barbecue circuit, with walls covered in plaques denoting it the 'World's Best Barbecue.' As for the polarizing sauce, it has earned homages across Alabama and the world.
Back in the pit, Andrew Lilly, the great-great grandchild of Gibson and current manager of Big Bob Gibson Bar-B-Q in Decatur, forks a whole bird off the brick pit and dunks it in the white sauce before tossing it back on the grill.
'It keeps the chicken moist and just gives it that good tangy peppery flavor,' says Lilly. 'You just don't get that any other way.' White sauce is the brainchild of a railway worker turned pitmaster named 'Big Bob' Gibson. Photograph by Jeffrey Greenberg, Universal(Top) (Left) and Photograph by JFsPic, Getty Images (Bottom) (Right)
In total, he'll cook this first batch of 75 chickens slowly for three-to-four hours. By roughly 11 a.m., when he pulls them off the pit, the restaurant is full of ravenous diners.
Although, not everybody is a fan. White sauce may reign supreme in barbecue joints across Northern Alabama, but head south and many will disavow the sauce entirely. Love it or hate it, barbecue chicken and white sauce is part of the state's culinary identity. Barbecue and the civil rights movement
'Get the pig ears,' says Larry Bethune. 'We sell a lot of 'em… we sell a lot of everything, really.'
Bethune is the second-generation owner of Brenda's Bar-Be-Que Pit in Montgomery. Brenda's has been a staple in the city's Black community since its opening in 1942, serving up everything from the famous pig ear sandwiches to legendary ribs and chicken platters at its drive-up counter. What Brenda's may lack in square footage, it more than makes up for in flavor and Black history.
On the restaurant's window is a newspaper clipping of Larry's mother, Jereline Bethune, at the March of Montgomery. He starts singing, 'We Shall Overcome' and recollects his mother's role during the civil rights movement. She became involved during the 1955 and 1956 Montgomery Bus Boycott and worked with the NAACP, printing out fliers about when and where meetings and protests would occur. Following the passing of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, Jereline would host classes at the restaurant to help Black people pass literacy tests so they could vote.
The pig ear sandwich arrives slippery, cartilaginous, soaked in ketchup, mustard, and hot sauce. Like the restaurant's history, it may not look pretty, but it's a taste to be savored.
The story is similar at the opposite end of the state's historic National Civil Rights Trail in Selma at Lannie's Bar-B-Q Spot. Back in the '60s, Lannie's was a popular hub where activists like Martin Luther King Jr., John Lewis, and Ralph Abernathy could commiserate and devour hickory-smoked pork shoulder, ribs, and the whole fixings.
Today, Lannie's is still run by the family, and, although the dirt floors are gone, they're still slinging the same dishes that have brought the city of Selma together for 80-odd years.
Deborah's brother Floyd sets down a mountainous pulled pork sandwich and a few pork ribs all coated in Lannie's famous barbecue sauce. One bite, and that tangy, vinegary, spicy sauce envelopes the tongue and cheeks. Suddenly, it's easy to understand why the community (and state) continues lining up to eat here.
(The symbolism behind traditional Juneteenth foods—from barbecue to hibiscus) Continuing legacies
Ultimately, the story of Alabama barbecue is also a story about family, community, and togetherness.
Andrew Lilly is building upon his great-great grandfather's legacy at Big Bob Gibson's. Larry Bethune continues plating the ribs and pig ear sandwiches his mother did at Brenda's. Historic joints like Lannie's in Selma, Archibald & Woodrow's Barbeque in Northport, and Top Hat in Blount Springs are all in their third generation (and beyond) of ownership, and each owner can rattle off the list of regulars they've been feeding nearly every week for decades.
At Bob Sykes Bar-B-Q in Bessemer, Van Sykes is honoring the foundation his father and mother, Bob and Maxine, laid at the family restaurant in 1957 by keeping things simple—almost alarmingly simple considering the restaurant's barbecue sandwich sits atop the pantheon of must-eat dishes in Alabama.
'It's just salt, meat, and fire,' says Sykes. But he finds giving back to the broader Birmingham community just as important as the world-class barbecue he's cooking. He shares his craft in local high school home-economics classes. You'll see him offering cooking advice on the local news and promoting Southern food and culture as a founding member of the revered Southern Food Alliance.
'Barbecue cuts through class, race, gender, history, everything,' says Sykes. 'It shakes a common table for everybody."
Each spring, Sykes brings his community in Bessemer together for a little barbecue and blues at the Bob Sykes Barbecue and Blues Festival. 'I look out at the crowd and see my customers,' he says. 'You'll find everything from Porsches to pick-up trucks, Blacks and whites. It sets a common table around the things we love and come together over, which is our love of food, music, and the blues. It's peanut butter.
The togetherness is a sentiment echoed by Deborah Hatcher at Lannie's Bar-B-Q Spot. During the tumultuous civil rights movement in Selma, Black and white customers at Lannie's dined together.
'We didn't have segregation here,' says Deborah Hatcher, granddaughter of founder Lannie Moore Travis. 'Everybody came in that one door. Everyone sat down together, mixed together, and ate barbecue. Everybody just having a good time.' Where to try Alabama barbecue
Archibald & Woodrow's Barbeque: Popular among University of Alabama students and Tuscaloosa crowds, Archibald's ribs have become a true culinary destination in the state. Cooked over hickory and until they develop a wonderfully crisp 'bark,' the ribs and spicy vinegar sauce are the perfect pre-game or post-game meal during Crimson Tide football season.
Big Bob Gibson Bar-B-Q: What started out as a backyard pit has turned into one of the best barbecue joints in the country. Big Bob Gibson's may specialize in the famed pit-cooked chicken and white sauce, but don't miss out on the sublime ribs, 'championship' red barbecue sauce, and, of course, the meringue pies.
Bob Sykes Bar-B-Q: Bob Sykes Bar-B-Q keeps things simple: Salt, meat, and fire. Their specialty is the pulled pork sandwich and barbecue sauce (the recipe for which took nearly 20 years for Bob to develop).
Brenda's Bar-Be-Que Pit: It may be just a countertop joint in a residential Montgomery neighborhood, but locals are consistently lining up to engorge on Brenda's seriously good barbecue, from the pig ear sandwiches to towering rib plates.
Saw's BBQ: A staple in the Birmingham barbecue circuit, Saw's serves up every iteration of Alabama barbecue and each location follows a special theme. No matter where you go, the low-and-slow-cooked ribs are divinely tender and the chicken and white sauce is loaded with puckering tang. Born in Detroit and displaced all over, Tom Burson is a travel, food, and culture writer and professional lollygagger. His writing is rooted in uncovering the quirky, not-so-talked-about nooks and crannies and traditions around the world. Follow along at @tommyburson
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Yahoo
Nature: The beauty of a red-shouldered hawk
Before European settlement, when 95% of Ohio was blanketed in forests, red-shouldered hawks were common. But rampant deforestation that left only 10% of the state tree-covered by the early 1900s sent hawk numbers plummeting. Ohio's forests have rebounded, both in expanse and age. More and bigger timber means more red-shouldered hawks, even in urban Columbus and its suburbs. As the trees in our older neighborhoods, such as Clintonville and Worthington (founded in 1803), have matured, red-shoulders have moved in and are steadily increasing. Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are extraordinary conservationists Adult birds are conspicuously barred with stripes of rich brick-red color below. The colorful underparts are set off nicely by zebra-like black-and-white barring on the upper parts. While red-shouldered hawks don't sing like songbirds, they do deliver a loud piercing scream. Blue jays mimic the call to perfection and use it to scatter birds at the feeder, thus eliminating the competition. I live in Worthington, and unknowingly, I was driving nearly daily right past an active, red-shouldered hawk nest less than half a block up the street. A friend and neighbor, Mark Granger, told me about it back in early May. The nest is high in a lofty honey locust tree and easy to miss, at least from a vehicle. I eventually introduced myself to Dave and Sara, the homeowners. You couldn't meet two nicer people, and the suburban hawks have great landlords. The nest is nearly over their driveway, and their two boys, Caleb and Isaac, spend much time out front shooting baskets nearly under the nest. When Shauna and I visited to get photos, I chatted with Caleb and his friend Charlie, who are quite interested in the birds. The raptors are utterly unfazed by the young hoopsters practicing below and couldn't have selected a safer location for their nest, which is home to three chicks. Indeed, I wonder if red-shouldered hawks sometimes intentionally choose sites with plenty of human activity. While the male is part of the nesting process during the nest-building and incubation period — even helping to incubate eggs — he largely vanishes once the chicks hatch. Thus, the female spends long periods away hunting, and the presence of people certainly would help to deter would-be predators in her absence. Red-shouldered hawks have a varied diet: everything from snakes to frogs to small mammals. While red-shoulders don't generally have huge territories, this bird probably ranges as far as the nearby Olentangy River. Its streamside forests would provide plenty of prey, and the neighborhood chipmunks best beware. They are often a dietary staple. The female will rip prey into manageable pieces for the chicks. Dave and Sara's red-shouldered hawk chicks look to be about two weeks or so from taking their first flight. The youngsters that make it are likely to return to the same general area next year to start nests of their own, thus further increasing Franklin County's suburban, red-shouldered hawk population. Nature: Eastern tent caterpillar nests can be seen throughout Ohio The red-shouldered hawk longevity record is 26 years. Dave, Sara, Caleb and Isaac might be the lucky landlords of red-shouldered hawks for some time to come. Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first and third Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at jim This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Nature: Red-shouldered hawks in Ohio
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Yahoo
Nature: Bobcats are making a comeback in population in Ohio
Some of the most iconic mammals on Earth are large carnivores: lions, polar bears, tigers, snow leopards and many others. Unfortunately, nearly two-thirds of them are at risk of extinction due to the hand of man. Ohio once had a thriving suite of carnivores, including bears (more precisely an omnivore), mountain lions, wolves and bobcats. But as our human population flourished, these animals suffered. At the time of statehood, 1803, there were about 45,000 settlers of European descent. Today, the Buckeye State's human population is pushing 12 million. Bobcats, mountain lions and wolves vanished by 1855, victims of human persecution. People, in general, do not like larger predatory animals and do not want them around. Tangential to the disappearance of these charismatic mammals was the tremendous loss of the state's forests. At the time of settlement, 95% of Ohio was blanketed in rich tapestries of various woodland types. By the mid-1800s, most of that had been cleared, leading to the extirpation of another large mammal, the elk, a common prey item for mountain lions and wolves. Almost unimaginable, today, white-tailed deer and wild turkey had been vanquished from Ohio by the early 1900s. But people can right their wrongs, sometimes. Now, nearly one-third of Ohio is forested again, and that has allowed some forest-dependent animals to proliferate, perhaps most conspicuously the aforementioned deer and turkey. Far more exciting, to me, is the return of the charismatic bobcat, our only extant wild cat. In 1946, a bobcat was confirmed in Scioto County, the first record in nearly a century. Their numbers steadily increased, although bobcats remained rare for many more decades. Nature: The beauty of a red-shouldered hawk As forest cover has improved, bobcats have proliferated and they were removed from the Division of Wildlife's endangered and threatened list in 2014. While tenacious and scrappy, some readers have housecats that eclipse the average bobcat in size. While bobcats can range from 15 to 40 pounds, the average weight is around 22 pounds. A big Maine coon cat is larger. In keeping with its size, bobcat prey items are generally small, and rodents like white-footed mice and voles, along with rabbits, are their stock in trade. While bobcats are primarily nocturnal, they'll take day-active creatures like chipmunks and squirrels if chance permits. While I shouldn't even have to waste space on this, humans have absolutely nothing to fear from Lynx rufus. Wise creatures that they are, bobcats generally avoid us like the plague. No human has ever been killed by a bobcat, and attacks are nearly unknown. Since 1970, bobcats have been documented in all but 11 of Ohio's 88 counties. As would be expected, the largest numbers occur in the rough wooded hill country of southern and southeastern Ohio. According to Division of Wildlife data, Noble County is No. 1 with 340 reports. Numbers drop dramatically in the glaciated flatlands to the east, but there have been five reports from Franklin County. The return of the bobcat should only be considered a positive — unless you are a mouse — and they are furry stub-tailed proof that we can reclaim human-induced environmental damage. Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are extraordinary conservationists Bobcats' greatest foe today is vehicles. Vehicle strikes account for up to 20% of annual bobcat mortality. A car collision victim was recently brought to the Ohio Wildlife Center (OWC); she is the animal in my accompanying photo. While not badly injured, she suffered some neurological issues that have rendered her unreleasable. Shauna Weyrauch, a researcher and senior lecturer at OSU's Newark campus, has been studying Ohio's bobcats for the past decade. Through the use of trail cams and other tactics, she has unearthed many interesting facets of bobcat behavior and ecology. Weyrauch will be giving a program about bobcats on Aug. 9 at 6:30 p.m. at the Ohio Wildlife Center, 9000 Dublin Road in Powell. Attendees will have the chance to see the bobcat whose image runs with this column. To register, visit Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first and third Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at jim This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Bobcats grow numbers in Ohio
Miami Herald
5 hours ago
- Miami Herald
Shorebirds in Florida are losing habitat. Living shorelines are part of the solution
Editor's note: Before this story was published, Shiloh Schulte, a senior shorebird scientist with Manomet Conservation Sciences, died in a helicopter crash while in Alaska doing conservation work. Schulte coordinated the American Oystercatcher Working Group, the multi-state species recovery partnership to which Florida belongs. Even as populations dwindle for hundreds of bird species across the United States, there are some success stories taking flight: like for the American oystercatcher, one of Florida's most iconic — and threatened — shorebirds. Compared to 15 years ago, the oystercatcher population that breeds along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts is up 43%, according to the American Bird Conservancy. There are nearly 15,000 oystercatchers in North America today,compared to about 10,000 in 2008, according to Shiloh Schulte, a former senior shorebird scientist with Manomet Conservation Sciences. It's a welcome outlier in the world of shorebird conservation, Schulte said. 'Shorebirds, as a species group, are declining rapidly. And oystercatchers are one of the few that's not.' Schulte first began working with American oystercatchers in the early 2000s, when he participated in an expansive aerial survey of North American shorebirds revealing the species was at risk. 'We flew the whole coast, the Atlantic coast and then the Gulf, in a little Cessna at about 400 feet up.' The initial national survey revealed oystercatchers were threatened by habitat loss, Schulte said. The species doesn't move inland, depending on coastal habitats and forage to survive. Before long, Schulte started coordinating the multi-state working group credited for helping drive oystercatchers' gains since 2008. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission is involved in the working group, and so is the Florida Shorebird Alliance, a statewide network of local partnerships focused on shorebird and seabird conservation. Within the network, volunteers contribute to the state's long-term monitoring data by helping survey and count bird populations throughout the year. Volunteer David Hartgrove was one of the FSA's very first members. Today, Hartgrove is co-conservation chair for Halifax River Audubon, one of three Audubon Florida chapters in Volusia County. For about 20 years now, Hartgrove has been monitoring oystercatchers who nest on the Halifax River in Port Orange, he said one June morning from a pavilion at Port Orange Causeway Park. Steps away from the park's fishing pier and boat launch, Hartgrove uses a spotting scope — basically, a telescope — to view nesting oystercatchers on three spoil islands (one of which is a state-designated Critical Wildlife Area). 'If I've got oystercatchers that I know are incubating eggs over here, I'll be here three or four times a week, at least,' Hartgrove said. Right now, in late June, most young oystercatchers have hatched and are getting ready to fly. Holding onto habitat Looking collectively at all the years he's been tracking oystercatchers in Port Orange, Hartgrove said, the population appears relatively stable. 'It's not going up, it's not going down. It's pretty much staying the same all the time,' Hartgrove said. An oystercatcher parent and two chicks stand on a spoil island serving as a nesting site in Mosquito Lagoon, the northernmost section of the Indian River Lagoon, on May 27, 2025. That's despite a range of threats facing shorebirds in Florida, from predators and human interference to nest overwash from storms and rising high tides. On the Nature Coast, which draws in the largest concentration of wintering oystercatchers each year, longer-lasting high tides corresponded with a 7.3% decline in annual survival over 12 years, according to a 2023 study by FWC researchers. Co-author Janell Brush with FWC's Fish and Wildlife Research Institute leads the agency's research on seabirds and shorebirds. For Brush, the study's results underscore what she said is her biggest concern for oystercatchers in Florida: habitat loss. 'With the tides getting higher and higher, less habitat is available for oystercatchers at high tide,' Brush said. 'With the degradation of coastal habitats due to repeated storms and erosion, we've been focusing our attention more on: how can we restore and enhance the habitats where these birds want to be?' Ideally, oystercatchers will return to the same nesting site year after year, preferably while keeping their distance from other oystercatchers (although if the habitat is just too good to pass up, like at Cedar Key, they'll begrudgingly nest in closer quarters together, Brush said). But as Florida becomes increasingly developed, especially near the coast, prime nesting habitat is getting harder to come by. 'The more developed an area you have, the less suitable habitat that you have that's available for species like oystercatchers to nest,' Brush said. Oystercatchers like to nest in low-lying coastal areas, above the high tide line. And it's especially key for their nesting habitat to be near a food source, which for oystercatchers is primarily (and perhaps unsurprisingly) oysters. 'The closer that food source is to the oystercatchers and oystercatcher chicks, the more likely those chicks are going to survive,' Brush said. Unlike most shorebird babies, young oystercatchers can't feed themselves right away. They need time to learn their parents' technique for cracking open mollusk shells, and for their beaks to grow long enough to do so. In the meantime, oystercatcher parents take turns watching their young and foraging for food nearby — which, in Central Florida, usually means a trip to the nearest oyster reef. Supporting a 'habitat mosaic' Globally, a majority of oyster habitats have been lost, due largely to decades of overharvesting and coastal urbanization. Reflecting this trend, the Indian River Lagoon has lost about 63% of its oyster reef acreage since 1943, according to Linda Walters, a marine biology professor at the University of Central Florida. Since 2007, Walters and the lab she runs at UCF have been working to restore oyster reefs in the lagoon's northernmost section, the Mosquito Lagoon. Boating activity and sea level rise have caused damage, breaking up reefs into smaller pieces and reducing the estuary's overall oyster coverage. That loss can have big consequences for a complex marine ecosystem like the Indian River Lagoon. 'Oysters filter the water. They make it so the seagrass can thrive, which makes it so the fish can thrive, and the crabs, the other invertebrates,' Walters said. To put it simply, more oysters means a healthier lagoon. That, in turn, is as good for ecotourism as it is for shorebirds who depend on the estuary for habitat and to forage for food, Walters said. 'The more good habitat we have, the more birds we'll have,' Walters said. The oyster reef restorations led by Walters and completed in collaboration with local conservation and community partners have translated to documented habitat improvements in and around the Mosquito Lagoon, according to UCF. But this work supporting the estuary's 'habitat mosaic,' as Walters calls it, hasn't stopped with oyster reefs. Seagrass restoration is the newest layer of Walters's conservation work, which in 2011 also began to include living shoreline projects. Living shorelines are a type of green infrastructure technique, using native vegetation and other natural materials to stabilize shorelines against erosion while enhancing biodiversity, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Walters described it as 'the least destructive way to protect a shoreline.' 'We are trying to get it back to what it was naturally,' Walters said. 'So as opposed to using any sort of hard armoring, [like] a seawall or putting really large rocks out, this is the low-tech way to protect your shoreline.' Seawalls, living shorelines and hybrid solutions Seawalls are hard structures, usually made of concrete or metal, installed along shorelines to protect against erosion. They can be very effective at stabilizing coastal areas, at least for a time. But seawalls also have some big drawbacks, including for wildlife habitat, according to Jason Evans, an ecologist by training who runs Stetson University's Institute for Water and Environmental Resilience. 'We've simplified these ecosystems,' Evans said. 'We've gone in and destroyed enormous amounts of coastal wetlands in Florida, [by] putting in these seawalls.' Shorebirds tend to avoid seawalls and other man-made structures built to defend shorelines from sea level rise and erosion, according to some studies, including one from the United States Geological Survey. Some creatures, like barnacles, can survive on a seawall. But generally, the hard-armoring technique tends to make marine ecosystems less productive, Evans said. 'They're very poor habitat, compared to what the natural habitat would be.' Hardening a shoreline can displace important organisms, like oysters, which are in themselves 'natural stabilizers of shorelines,' Evans said. In the long-term, seawalls can actually make erosion worse, especially along sandy beaches, where waves crashing against one side of the seawall can scour out sand on the other side. 'You oftentimes will lose your beach a lot faster because of the seawall,' Evans said. A quarter of Florida's seawall permits issued since 2004 are for structures in Volusia County, where Mosquito Lagoon begins, according to a 2024 analysis commissioned by the Florida Department of Environmental Protection. Mosquito Lagoon stretches south into Brevard County, which prohibits the installation of new shoreline hardening structures except in emergency situations. Good for birds, good for fish — and good for us In certain cases, seawalls might be the best way to stabilize a shoreline, Evans said: such as at a port, where huge waves are constantly rolling in from ship traffic. But generally, he said, living shorelines are a highly effective, more environmentally friendly — and, often, more affordable — solution. '[It's] a win-win,' Evans said. 'We're getting the fisheries back that we want, we're getting the water quality back that we want. We're getting those benefits, and we're also getting the benefit of reduced amounts of erosion.' Hybrid solutions, like a buried seawall, can also be an effective alternative to fully hardening a shoreline, Evans said. For those structures, a hardened seawall serves as the core, buried beneath a sandy dune layer that often features native vegetation more conducive to wildlife habitat. For oystercatchers in the Mosquito Lagoon, a living shoreline can serve as valuable high ground for the birds to roost during high tide, without straying far from the oyster reefs they depend on for food. And a living system of mangroves and marsh grasses comes with another superpower, Evans said: built-in resilience. The native plants' roots help hold sediment from the lagoon in place, effectively allowing the land to 'grow up.' 'Even as the sea rises, then your mangroves can, in theory, keep up with it, because they're grabbing sediments,' Evans said. 'Just like a seawall is engineered, living shorelines are engineered: to stabilize, to withstand storms, and even in some cases to withstand a little bit of sea level rise.' Shorelines and beaches naturally shift over time, drifting and changing shape with the winds and waves. That makes a living shoreline's capacity to adapt to its surroundings — unlike a static seawall — one of its biggest strengths, said Melinda Donnelly, an assistant research scientist and biology professor at UCF who works with Walters. Right now, Donnelly is working on a model to help predict where in the Indian River Lagoon living shorelines are most likely to succeed, based on variables like tidal conditions and wave energy thresholds for different plants. Many previous living shoreline projects have largely relied on trial and error, Donnelly said. The goal is for the model to help maximize time and resources when planning how to stabilize a shoreline, and ultimately 'end up with sort of a combination of methods, rather than just basically hardening every shoreline throughout the lagoon,' Donnelly said. Especially over time, more living shorelines will translate to a healthier lagoon ecosystem overall, Walters said. That means more attractive shorebird habitat. 'It's good for birds, it's good for fish. It's good for commercial species, recreational species,' Walters said. 'It's good for all the plants and just everything in the lagoon. So basically, it means it's good for us.' 'A lot of potential' Moving forward, managing the species' continued recovery in Florida will require prioritizing ways to help nesting oystercatchers. Right now, there are only 419 breeding adults documented statewide, according to Brush with FWC. In 2013, there were also fewer than 500, according to the agency's species action plan. 'Because there's not that many birds, every single nesting pair is important. And every time you get a new nesting pair entering the breeding population, that's huge,' Brush said. Specifically along the Atlantic coast in Central Florida, there is great opportunity to help grow oystercatcher populations, Brush said. 'In general, where we are seeing birds try to enter the breeding population in great numbers [in Florida] is along the Atlantic coast.' But the challenge of habitat loss and degradation persists, especially as Central Florida's coasts are developed and hardened. If more oystercatchers here are to grow and breed successfully, improving habitat conditions will be critical. 'At some point, we will be limited by available habitat,' Brush said. 'There's a lot of potential to grow the population of oystercatchers on the Atlantic coast … if we have some more resources to dedicate toward habitat enhancement and restoration.' While resources are limited, Brush said, FWC is adept at making good use of them. 'We're constantly in FWC keeping the pulse on how species are doing, and where we need to allocate resources where species may not be doing as well.' One huge part of that equation, Brush said, is partnership. The national oystercatcher working group helps foster collaboration between states. 'We watched our local population improve in Florida as part of that network,' Brush said. 'The state of Florida can't do it without our conservation partners.' A culture of partnership will be crucial to continuing American oystercatchers' recovery, according to conservation experts. Although oystercatchers have made promising gains in the last 15 years, the work is by no means over. The (flight) path forward: 'It takes a village' Oystercatchers continue to face existential threats, from predators like rats and raccoons to habitat loss caused by human interference, sea level rise and storms. 'The difference is we as a working group have discovered many of the ways to manage and mitigate many of those threats, as long as we have people in the field doing that work,' Schulte said. That last piece is critical — and a growing concern for wildlife experts like Schulte, as the Trump administration's sweeping 'waste-reduction' measures usher longtime experts out of staff positions and interrupt some grant-funded projects already underway. It's not uncommon for conservation funds to fluctuate between (and sometimes during) presidential administrations, Schulte said. But this time is different. 'There's always uncertainty. It's never been like: 'We're stopping everything,' and no necessary guarantee as to whether it's going back,' Schulte said. 'We haven't seen that before, at all, where a project that's underway gets canceled.' Nationally and within states where oystercatchers breed, including Florida, government agencies are now missing some core personnel who made up the 'bedrock' of shorebird conservation, Schulte said. 'We're seeing it kind of everywhere, especially with state and federal employees, who are usually the most consistent and stable aspect of the group,' Schulte said in late May. 'Some of these people were coordinating multiple sets of volunteers, or out there in the field themselves, doing a lot of this assessment work.' Departing experts take with them a depth of specialized knowledge, often built up over decades of fieldwork and experience. 'It's a huge loss. And it's hard to quantify,' Schulte said. 'It's not universal. But it's very widespread, and it is having significant impacts on our ability to do basic conservation work.' Fewer experienced people in the field means fewer, less robust assessments of shorebird health, Schulte said. 'We actually won't know as much information about how well the birds are doing … or what the challenges are.' Restoring shorebird populations is a long-term commitment, Schulte said. Even in the smoothest of political climates, armed with the newest and best science, conservation experts know their work is bound to involve a certain level of uncertainty. Instead of running away from the inevitable, Brush, with FWC, said she focuses on learning from the (literally) changing tides. 'We need to keep looking for opportunities while we're navigating the uncertainty. 'That uncertainty is always looming,' Brush said. 'When a storm hits, you have to be looking for opportunity as you're evaluating your habitat loss.' Adaptation is no strange concept in a state where hurricanes routinely ravage and refashion coastlines and communities. Still, the ability to quickly pivot and seek out new possible solutions requires a strong foundation, like the network of partners making up the oystercatcher working group. And citizen scientists, like Hartgrove in Port Orange, are also 'absolutely instrumental' to shorebird recovery, Brush said. 'It takes a village,' Brush said. 'There's always opportunities. You just have to look for them.'
