Her eyes are on the sparrow
Wearing knee-high rubber boots and a brown U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service cap, wildlife biologist Nancy Pau strides across thick clumps of Spartina patens — also known as “salt marsh hay” — a wiry cordgrass found in the upper areas of the marsh at Parker River National Wildlife Refuge in northeastern Massachusetts.
“I tell people that if you want to know what Spartina patens marsh looks like, just find a spot where you would like to lie down and have a picnic,” Pau says. Saltmarsh sparrows might be thinking the same thing — they like to build their nests in these same thick grasses.
Helping people understand and relate to the natural world is one of Pau’s most important missions. A scientist, artist, and storyteller rolled into one, she has spent the last 17 years at the refuge, which is part of The Great Marsh, the largest continuous salt marsh in New England. It is her laboratory, her inspiration, and the setting for an ongoing story about nature, change, and resilience.
Marshes help protect coastal infrastructure from storm surge and flooding, acting like sponges to soak up excess water. They also create recreation opportunities for birders, anglers and hunters and provide important habitat for fish or nesting grounds for birds such as the saltmarsh sparrow — one of Pau’s favorite bird species.
Reliant on tidal marshes for nesting, saltmarsh sparrows are highly threatened by sea-level rise. Surveys show that populations declined about 70 percent between 1998 and 2012, a trend that most likely has continued. Scientists are racing to keep numbers from falling below a critical population threshold from which the birds might not be able to recover.
For the past several years, Pau the biologist has been working with partners to strengthen the marsh and make it more resilient for saltmarsh sparrows and other wildlife and to act as a buffer against storms and sea-level rise.
“Our goal is to create a healthy and resilient marsh that not only benefits saltmarsh sparrows but also lots of other wildlife and people who depend on salt marsh habitat,” she says.
Pau the storyteller is just as passionate about educating the public about the value of marshes, how they are impacted by a changing climate, and what this means for the saltmarsh sparrow. During the past two years, she has collaborated with like-minded scientist/storyteller David S. Johnson, a marine ecologist with the Virginia Institute of Marine Science, to translate biology and marsh ecology into simple terms and concepts to reach a broader audience. The result is an interpretive poster that brings science, art, and language together to tell the sparrow’s story and emphasize the importance of conservation in a changing world.
“The science behind our conservation work is critical, but sometimes it’s difficult to communicate it in a way that can reach people,” Pau says. “This doesn’t mean humanizing wildlife, but showing how people and wildlife are interconnected to nature, how we can adapt to change, and the similarities in life experiences.”
The poster heralds the saltmarsh sparrow as “uniquely American,” spending its entire life within the United States. Female sparrows are described as “super moms,” handling all the egg and chick rearing and bringing food back to their chicks more than 100 times a day. But all is not well in the neighborhood, and like all good stories there is a narrative twist.
Sparrows build their nest in salt marsh hay, whose thatch and thick cover slows flooding tides and protects the birds from predators. As the sea rises, the salt marsh hay floods more often, and is replaced with other grasses. Eggs and young chicks drown when marshes flood more than once a month.
This ongoing drama makes for a life on the edge. But it’s not the end of the story.
Pau suggests several ways people can “protect their home and ours” by removing roads, seawalls and invasive species like phragmites so salt marsh hay can migrate upslope. Green infrastructure and restoration projects also can help make salt marsh more resilient to sea-level rise and storm surge. “A salt marsh that’s allowed to grow higher and wider protects our homes from storms and rising waters.”
In addition to crafting the text, Pau the artist contributed original watercolor sketches for the poster, carving out time for the task during last winter’s 35-day federal government furlough. “It was a good way to stay busy and do something I didn’t have time to do in my regular job,” she says.
The poster will be incorporated into an exhibit at the refuge visitor center, Pau says. She also plans to share it with partners who are passionate about saving the sparrow and coastal marsh habitat so they can engage others in this conservation quest.
Research has shown that people are more likely to embrace and adopt messages that make them feel personally involved by triggering an emotional response. By merging science and storytelling, Pau hopes to touch hearts as well as minds and inspire others to support or participate in wildlife conservation where they live.
Continuing through the marsh, Pau stops and reaches down into a thatch of salt marsh hay. She pulls back the wisps of grass, revealing a nest with two saltmarsh sparrow chicks. Without saying a word, she cups one of the tiny birds in her hand and brings it into the sunlight.
“We are really just buying time to help these birds adapt,” Pau says, gently returning the chick to its home. “We are still writing the story.”
