| The Magazine of the CALIFORNIA ACADEMY OF SCIENCES |
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HABITATS Ballona: The Little Wetland That Could
Marcia Hanscom and Roy van de Hoek eye the menus a little guiltily. The restaurant, a stone’s throw from Ballona Lagoon just south of Marina del Rey in Los Angeles, borders on chic, and it’s upscale for their tastes; yet in unison they order eggs Benedict with artichokes instead of bacon. When breakfast arrives they eat with gusto. “Why not?” says van de Hoek, about the splurge. “We’re celebrating.” This is the first in a season of celebrations for Hanscom and van de Hoek, of the Wetlands Action Network(WAN). The non-profit has led a coalition of environmental groups working to preserve one of the last wetlands in urban Los Angeles. The struggle to save and restore the former Ballona wetlands is one of the oldest, most convoluted, and arguably one of the most important wetland wars ever. Thanks to WAN’s coalition, an important battle has been won. One hundred years ago, Ballona was a 2,000-acre biological cornucopia, dense with the birds, amphibians, and other wetland creatures and plants that thrive where freshwater and seawater meet. Although it is still home to many wetland-dependent plants and animals, today Ballona is mostly cut off from tidal action. Its garbage-strewn expanses, crisscrossed by roads, punctured by hundreds of old oil wells, and hemmed in by development, only hint at its former glory. And now perhaps at its future glory, too. For three decades developers have conspired with city, county, and state politicians to convert the wetland’s remaining acres into a vast complex of 13,000 new residential units, hotels, and nearly six million square feet of office space. There was a good deal of money to be made. When he was still governor of California, Pete Wilson quipped to a group of businessmen about the proposed development, called Playa Vista, that “in my prior incarnation as a mayor [of San Diego] I would have sold my family to get a project like this.” As recently as 1995, Steven Spielberg’s DreamWorks studio announced that it would occupy about 50 acres of Ballona and relocate its business and production campus to a previously developed, upland portion of the site. Spielberg planned to convert the giant hangar where Howard Hughes built his famous airship Spruce Goose into a soundstage. DreamWorks was to be the celebrity tenant in the new Playa Vista development. In response, WAN and other groups mobilized an opposition campaign that included cameos by Martin Sheen, Ed Asner, and a human-sized frog. After four years of bad press, a tarnished DreamWorks decided to stay put in Glendale. After four more years of agitating, lobbying, protesting, and organizing by WAN and other groups, last October another former governor, Gray Davis, signed a bill that purchased 547 of Ballona’s most hotly contested acres—for restoration. Today, for the first time anyone involved can remember, all parties seem to be satisfied. Even the developer, Playa Capital Corporation, which received a whopping 140 million taxpayer dollars for the property, is happy. An area the size of Central Park doesn’t sound like much open space for $140 million, but Ballona is the largest restorable saltmarsh in Los Angeles County, and one of southern California’s last. Only five percent of the state’s historic wetlands remain, and Ballona is a key link in the broken chain of migration stops along the Pacific Flyway. So its restoration has ecological significance far beyond local environmental gains. With the dredging of Marina del Rey in the early 1960s, the Ballona marshland was reduced to less than half its former reach. In the late 1930s, two decades before the marina was built, Ballona Creek, the marsh’s source of freshwater, was straightened and lined with concrete. The remaining wetland system was cut off from both the tidal flow, the “yin” of salt marsh habitat, and the freshwater that is its “yang.” Any restoration will first need to restore the flow of salt and fresh water to these largely parched acres. This may be tricky. Certainly, bringing the tidal “breath” back into these wetlands will involve much more than just punching holes in the Ballona Creek channel that cuts them in half. The system is hydrologically very complex. Dredge fill from the Marina was dumped in some areas, raising them above sea level; others have been developed for oil exploration; still more acres are crisscrossed with levees and roads. Concrete-lined Ballona Creek, which bisects what will become the primary salt marsh area, complicates things further. Yet even in its degraded state, Ballona provides sanctuary to an impressive list of rare species. van de Hoek, wetlands biologist and director of restoration for WAN, cites Belding’s savannah sparrow, California least tern, California brown pelican, Pacific pocket mouse, silvery legless lizard, wandering skipper butterfly, and the California red-legged frog as residents. Once its marshes are restored, the wetlands may aid the recovery of other rare and endangered plants and animals. For instance, the light-footed clapper rail used to frequent Ballona, although none have nested here for decades. A population of six nesting pairs of the long-billed, chicken-sized bird lives at Mugu Lagoon, 25 miles up the coast, and another population of 60 pairs nests 25 miles down the coast at Los Cerritos Wetlands. Unfortunately, clapper rails aren’t good long distance fliers, and 50 miles is farther than they can travel at a stretch. When tidal marsh habitat is restored at Ballona, both of those populations could spread here. With the two small existing nesting populations linked by Ballona, and genes flowing from one population to the next, the species’ long-term prospects could get a big boost. A few of California’s rare native plants might also benefit. The Ventura marsh milk vetch, a Ballona native, had last been seen in 1967 and was thought to have gone extinct. But in 1998, a U.S. Fish and Wildlife biologist came across a small population on Oxnard dune swales that were being cleaned of oilfield waste. Likewise, the Los Angeles sunflower was thought extinct but rediscovered in 1998. Both of these extremely rare plants will likely flourish when reintroduced to a restored Ballona, says van de Hoek. Internecine battles among environmental groups at Ballona date back to 1989, when an agreement was reached between the Friends of Ballona Wetlands (Friends) and Summa Corporation, Playa Capital’s predecessor at Ballona. The deal allowed for 847 acres of development and 240 acres of Summa-funded restoration projects. Everyone agrees that this early deal probably kept a colossal project from sealing all of the former wetlands under concrete and golfcourse sod. But other groups, such as WAN, felt that too much had been ceded to Summa, including the independence of the Friends. Hanson says the agreement had, in effect, made the group a partner with the developer. Defying the deal, WAN and other groups set out to retake lost acres, employing lawsuits and other, more radical means such as chaining themselves to bulldozers, picketing, and street theater. In the years that followed, the Friends and WAN have publicly competed for membership, credibility, and influence over the negotiations, while each claimed to represent the true interests of the wetlands. Even now, with the saltmarsh in the hands of the state and slated for renewal, the two groups jockey for credit and influence over the restoration plan. Whether they can overcome their animosity and work together remains to be seen. If so, the state’s $140 million may restore Los Angeles’ fragmented environmental community as well as purchase the degraded marsh. The Trust For Public Land, which brokered the new deal between the state and Playa Capital, conveyed ownership of the property to the California Department of Fish and Game in late October. For the next five years, the California Coastal Commission will oversee a restoration planning process involving Fish and Game, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the National Marine Fisheries Service, and numerous environmental organizations. Standing atop the three-story Antioch University parking structure on Fiji Way, Hanscom and van de Hoek look out over a portion of “their” newly acquired property. A soaring white-tailed kite draws their attention from the coyote bush and seep willow up to the Baldwin Hills, a large open space formerly used for gas extraction. About 1,000 acres was recently protected up there and the state is trying to acquire 1,000 acres more. The now-constricted Ballona Creek travels from here all the way to the Baldwin Hills, says van de Hoek. Wouldn’t it be something, he muses, if one day a restored creek and riparian habitat could be a wildlife corridor connecting the Pacific Ocean to the hills via Ballona? “If the system is ever to be whole again,” says van de Hoek, “it will require large predators. Coyotes, for instance, would help to keep clapper rail habitat free of too many mesopredators, such as raccoons and foxes, that eat rail eggs and chicks. Coyotes prefer not to get their feet wet in the saltmarsh itself and pretty much leave the rails alone,” says van de Hoek. A wildlife corridor connecting the coyotes of Baldwin Hills to Ballona through the heart of downtown Los Angeles may sound like a distant and slightly wacky dream. But 30 years ago, the prospect of a safe and restored Ballona Wetlands was equally preposterous. As David Brower always said, and as the purchase of Ballona demonstrates, a dream in the hands of feisty, smart, and courageous conservationists is a mighty thing. Gordy Slack is a freelance science writer and a contributing editor for California Wild. |
