Story by SAMMY MACK
Clam Bayou is a sanctuary on the verge.
A little more than 10 acres of savage Florida wilderness, the bayou is an estuary whose borders stretch across the cities of Gulfport and St. Petersburg, Fla., before spilling into the Boca Ciega Bay. It is a brackish swirl where freshwater creeks push into the gulf waters, where mangrove forests and marshlands nurse juvenile fish at their roots and bird rookeries in their branches.
But secreted away behind residential and commercial neighborhoods, the bayou remains unknown to most of the people around it. It is visited by few but loved intensely by those who do spend time in its natural richness.
As the cities around the bayou have grown, an urban perimeter of homes, condos and businesses have closed in on this patch of nature, hiding it in plain sight. Much of that development has been driven by an attraction to the area’s natural splendor. But that same growth has placed enormous pressure on the environment. When it rains, runoff from the upstream streets and storm sewers floods into the bayou, choking it with trash and depositing layers of mud farther downstream.
Within the past few years, individuals, organizations and government bodies recognized the bayou’s tenuous position and rallied around it to save it from a slow, polluted death. But saving the bayou means something different to every player; each proposal reflects its authors’ interest in recreation, work or conservation. The City of Gulfport passed a resolution to dredge the bayou’s mud flats deep enough to remove trash and let recreational boats pass through. Opponents argue the litter should go, but the mud needs to stay for animal habitats.
Whatever happens in the bayou, there will be consequences for the wildlife it supports and the people who have discovered this untamed gem.