The good, the bad and the algae

06/01/2003

By CHERYL HALL / The Dallas Morning News

LEWISVILLE – Two summers ago, Dallas developers George Watson and Mike Berry had a problem.

American lotus plants with pads the size of small umbrellas blanketed the water in front of their Steelecreek Development on Lake Cypress Springs in East Texas – a definite turnoff to potential buyers of $300,000 to $400,000 executive weekend getaways.

Today, the view along their mile and a half of shoreline is much better, and the problem lotus has given way to diverse vegetation where fish can graze and people can swim and boat.

"Turns out that the world-class expert with all the answers was only a few miles to the north of us," says Mr. Watson, pointing from his Far North Dallas office to Lake Lewisville and Dr. Michael Smart.

Dr. Smart has been called the Red Adair of waterweeds, the go-to guy for containing green monsters threatening America's lakes and waterways.

Just as the now-retired oilfield rescuer once fought fire with fire, the head of aquatic plant ecology research for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers fights plants with plants.

"People worry about disturbing nature," says Dr. Smart, who formed a consulting practice four years ago. "Well, we did that when we built man-made lakes. But we didn't finish the job. We didn't put in beneficial plants to create healthy ecosystems. We stock fish. Why not plants?"

Slow-growing pickerelweed, for example, has beguiling purple flowers and "eats" lyngbya, a pond scum from hell that fish won't touch and herbicides can't dent.

This 52-year-old Mississippi boy, who grew up on the riverbanks in Vicksburg, has spent a lifetime getting up close and personal with aquatic plants and animals.

"I got an aquarium for Christmas when I was in the ninth grade, and that set me down this path," says the ecologist, who still likes nothing better than to don wading boots and get really muddy.

He laughs as he recalls the night that tadpoles left uncovered in the aquarium sprouted legs and terrorized the Smart household. His younger brother still has a fear of baby Kermits.

"Just goes to show you how the same experience can lead to two entirely different results," Dr. Smart says, sounding highly scientific.

In 1989, Dr. Smart came here to size up an abandoned fish hatchery at the base of Lake Lewisville dam as a possible site for a premier research center. "I took one look and knew this was heaven on Earth for me."

For nearly 14 years, Dr. Smart has led a team here searching for answers to water vegetation problems from Florida to Hawaii.

Tops in hydrilla

Aggressive vegetation – both native and man-induced – has invaded most public lakes, reservoirs, streams and rivers in Texas, destroying ecosystems and costing Lone Star property owners millions of dollars. Our state leads the nation in hydrilla and other nasty waterweeds, primarily because nearly all of our lakes are man-made.

Exotic plants meant for small aquariums get dumped, planted or spread by boats in ponds or lakes that are overly nutrient-rich from fertilizer runoff. Because the water covers former prairie, there are no native aquatic plants to fend off the invasion. Plants in these liquid incubators grow to become incredible hulks.

Unlike Florida, which used to be Numero Uno, this state hasn't spent the millions of dollars needed to control the green beasts.

TXU Corp., for example, owns 11 lakes open to the public, Dr. Smart says. All have hydrilla, a submerged nightmare that grows an inch a day.

The Corps, the world's largest developer of water projects, uses Dr. Smart's research to control invasive plant growth at its reservoirs, waterways and hydropower plants. But congressional rules prevent the government agency from hiring out his services to private entities.

"We could give advice to private hunting and fishing lakes, but there was no mechanism for us to actually help them," says Dr. Smart. "Ultimately it came down to, 'Where can I get these wonderful plants?' and we'd have to say, 'Well, you can't because there's nobody providing them.' "

So in 1999, with the blessing of his employer, Dr. Smart formed Smart Associates, not so much as a moneymaking sideline but as a way to share his 30 years of aquatic ecology know-how. Since then, he's helped property owners come up with solutions to plant invasions in ponds, streams and lakes.

He's building a Web site that will give basic information about the good, bad and the ugly.

Good plants for public projects are grown at the Corps' research center. He and former graduate students use their property to grow beneficial plants needed for private clients, such as Northwood University in Cedar Hill, which is trying to tame pond algae.

Eventually – the sooner the better – Dr. Smart hopes that a commercial nursery will take his research and grow with it.

"Until recently, there wasn't any demand, so there's been no supply," says Dr. Smart, who developed his growing technology back in the 1980s. "As we do more projects and gain visibility, these plants are going to be a big thing in the future."

Anglers often have the misconception that any greenery is good for fish, Dr. Smart says. It can, in fact, be deadly if it covers the surface and smothers the water.

Deadly green

Lake owners often get rid of one problem, fail to fill the void with habitat-healthy species and get something even worse in its place. He compares it to tilling a weed-infested backyard and then not planting grass. Dr. Smart calls it "the survival of the weediest."

That's what happened at Lake Cypress Springs, where herbicides and sterilized grass carp defeated hydrilla. But American lotus, which fish won't eat, cropped up in the empty niche.

The Franklin County Water District, which owns the lake, and Texas Parks & Wildlife, which oversees all things green or breathing, were hesitant to disturb the native plant. The Dallas developers wanted the eyesore gone yesterday.

In one of those rare meetings of public and private minds, they agreed to hire Dr. Smart to come up with an emergency initiative and a long-term restorative strategy.

The initial study and test plantings cost about $23,000, partly covered by the Dallas company.

The results are so impressive they want to transform the entire lake over the next three to five years.

Dr. Smart is consulting with the water district, which is seeking federal funding for part of the $200,000 needed for restoration.

Mr. Watson is elated. "Instead of arguing about what to do, we addressed the problem in an intelligent and mature manner by bringing in the guy who really knows. As simple as this sounds, it was groundbreaking."

David Weidman, general manager of the water district, agrees. "This is the wave of the future. You're going to see creative ways in which all the various needs – water quality, aesthetics, the quality and quantity of fish, and shoreline stabilization – are met."

New challenge

Dr. Smart's latest horror story is Giant Salvinia. This delicate free-floating fern, originally bred to spiff up aquariums and outdoor gardens, is now the world's worst weed, capable of doubling every three days under prime conditions, he says, lifting a handful of dainty-leafed growth from a test tank.

One surface acre of water covered on Sunday could be two acres on Wednesday and four by Saturday.

If Giant Salvinia were to invade Lake Lewisville unscathed, the entire 30,000-acre surface could be covered in one growing season, suffocating all aquatic wildlife underneath, says Dr. Smart.

Are you taking notes, Stephen King?

That's why this tank is in solitary confinement, kept away from the other 90-plus growing ponds sprawled over the Corps' 125-acre research compound.

"Its formal name is Salvinia molesta, to tell you what scientists think of this genetic mutant from Brazil," says Dr. Smart. "It's here, and it's bad. You can literally watch this baby grow."

That's precisely what Dr. Smart's team is doing to see how water chemistry affects growth and to determine which waters are most at risk.

Unfortunately, Texas also leads the nation in waters infested with Salvinia. You have to nuke it with fish-safe herbicides.

"It's called 'koi candy' because carp will eat it," Dr. Smart says with a chuckle. "But there's no way they can eat it fast enough."

E-mail cherylhall@dallasnews.com



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