Maryland's Eastern Shore
A Life Bound By the Tides

Sometimes I think the engineers who designed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge had a touch of the romantic in them. From the top of the bridge, the pastel green of the Eastern Shore stretches into the misty horizon. There's no mad crush and rush of traffic as you roll down the gentle slope of the bridge to the land. It's as though the engineers wanted to introduce travelers to the slower pace of the Shore, a place where produce stands outnumber shopping malls, where low-riding work boats chug through the waters with their load of crabs, and where history hangs as heavy in the air as the summer humidity.

The most comprehensive collection of life in, on, and around the Bay is found at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michael's. A few hours are needed to see everything. Meet the Rosie Parks, one of the last surviving skipjacks on the Bay. The skipjack is Maryland's official state boat. The schooners are nothing short of elegant as the glide across the bay, harvesting oysters in the fall. The fleet once numbered in the hundreds, but the effects of expenses and age have dropped it about 20.

Revisit the age of the steamboat. Before interstates and bridges, these were the only way to get around on the water. They were the 18-wheelers of their time, and passenger steamboats were comfortable local cruise ships.

The Hooper Strait Lighthouse is one of only three 'screw-pile' lighthouses left on the Bay. Engineers thought the eight-sided buildings with spiderlike legs screwed into the Bay floor would make them more stable and able to resist the effects of tides, waves and storms.

It didn't quite work out that way. The lighthouses proved to be very vulnerable and earned a reputation for breaking free of their moorings in heavy weather. After one storm, the Hooper Strait Lighthouse was found floating some eleven miles from where it was supposed to be. It's now safely and permanently on land. The interior is restored to what it was like when it was home to the lighthouse keeper and his family. It's the ultimate in waterfront living!

Lastly, roll up your sleeves and get ready to work at the seafood industry exhibit. Stepping into a crabber's shanty, you'll be expected to pull eel pots, tend a shedding tank, and bait a crab pot. After that, you'll appreciate your crab cake lunch that much more!

On a hidden stretch of shoreline, almost within the shadow of the Bay Bridge is the Wildfowl Trust of North America. But the bridge and the cities and activity it represents could be on the other side of the world for all of the impact it has on this placid piece of wetlands. Cleverly designed habitats are home for birds from all regions of the world. Each one has blinds and observation areas so that humans can spy without disturbing the birds.

The Canada Geese and other familiar species from the Atlantic Flyway are the stars here, of course. But there are habitats for birds most East Coast people never sees. Flocks from Alaska and the Great Plains represent the rest of North America. A few steps away, you'll enter the homes of birds from Australia, Asia and Europe. One of the most popular areas is a special garden that beckons to hummingbirds and butterflies.

The birds at the Wildfowl Trust are permanent residents. Nearby Blackwater Wildlife Refuge was established in 1933 as a refuge for migratory birds. It's one of the chief wintering areas for Canada Geese using the Atlantic Flyway. At the peak of fall migration, 35,000 geese and 15,000 ducks land in the protected marshes.

In early spring, the migrating birds head north, and the echoes of honking geese fade to a memory. There's still plenty to see, however. The refuge is the largest nesting area of the Bald Eagle in the eastern U.S. Its cousin, the Golden Eagle, is another frequent visitor. Osprey - the "fish hawk" - wing over the waters, and the great blue heron searches for food in the mud flats. Meanwhile, muskrat, raccoon, red fox, deer, and the endangered Delmarva Fox Squirrel live in the woods. The new visitors' center is a good stop for an overview of the refuge. A driving trail loops through the marshes, and guides can join groups to point out osprey nests, birds, and the resident critters that are as curious about the coaches as the passengers are about them.

The Ward Museum of Wildfowl Art in Salisbury captures all of the species in all types of media. Named for Lem and Steve Ward, two brothers from nearby Crisfield who raised the craft of decoy carving to an American art form, the museum exhibits the finest examples of carved decoys and bird sculptures and paintings. The carvings are so realistic that you wait for the feathers to ruffle and the eyes to blink. Walk-through exhibits show the development of decoys from primitive efforts made out of reeds by Native Americans to exquisite collectible pieces that will never be splashed by salt water. The large pond by the museum is a welcome rest stop for a lot of the birds featured inside.

For several decades, the ecological life of Chesapeake Bay was threatened. Restoring the Chesapeake from the damage done by pollution, development, and ignorance is one of the goals of the Horn Point Environmental Laboratories. It's one of three labs operated by the University of Maryland. One of the others is, not surprisingly, also on the Bay, but the third is far in the western part of the state. That's because with one exception, all of the waters from all of the streams, rivers, and creeks in Maryland empty into the Chesapeake. Researchers at Horn Point work to understand all of the elements that create the Chesapeake's unique habitat. The tour through the labs brings home how complex and inter-related the land, water, people, plants, and animals are to the region.

How detailed is their research? The scientists celebrated the day they were able to breed a jellyfish in captivity. They were even happier when they discovered some purpose for the stinging creatures. (Newborn jellyfish are apparently an appetizer for baby oysters.)

You'll hear the term "waterman" around the Shore. It's an Elizabethan word, a word that Shakespeare and Queen Elizabeth I would have recognized and used. "Waterman" is the word used to describe those who make their living on the water. They are the crabbers, the oystermen, and the charter boat captains. They and their families have lived off the Bay for 350 years, since the first Englishmen sailed up the waters, settling in tiny villages hidden in the coves and dotting the shoreline.

To get a close-up view of the tightly knit communities, take a forty-minute cruise to Smith Island. It's one of only two inhabited islands in the Bay that can be reached only by boat. The 450 people who live here are all descendants of the people from England and Cornwall who arrived in 1657.

The Capt. Tyler is the island's ferry, taking residents to the mainland for school, shopping, doctor's appointments, and all the other routine activities mainlanders take for granted. The boat docks at the Bayside Inn, owned and operated by the Tyler family. The family-style meal gives a real taste of the bay home-style cooking. Afterwards, tour the Smith Island Museum, browse through the shops, and meditate on the hardiness of the islanders while walking through the churchyard and its cemetery. If they like you, you'll be gently teased by the residents as they exaggerate their unique accent while chatting with you, leaving you wondering if you're really hearing English. Linguists say it's another throwback to the days of the first settlers.

The Chesapeake is only one side of the Shore. On the other is the Atlantic Ocean. The gentle tidewater gives way to the power of the Ocean. Waterfowl are mostly seagulls, hanging in the breeze like feathered Christmas ornaments, on the lookout for small crabs and fish, bait tossed for fishing, or leftovers from picnics on the beach.

Aside from the seagulls, the best-known animals on this part of the Shore are the wild ponies on Assateague Island. No one is exactly sure where the ponies came from. The most romantic legend tells of ponies swimming from a shipwreck. The most likely version is that the ponies are descendants of horses that were moved there to avoid paying taxes on them and then escaped. Whatever the truth, the herd is completely wild. No veterinarians inoculate them; no food arrives to help them survive the winter; no evacuations happen when Nor'easters or hurricanes move in. It's different in Virginia, where the herd is monitored and ponies are sold off each July. The need to keep the two herds separate led to a fence on the border of Virginia and Maryland. It's the only blocked border between two states.

It's hard to imagine how unforgiving the ocean can be when you're strolling along the Ocean City Boardwalk on a summer afternoon. But the Ocean City Lifesaving Museum reminds us of how vulnerable ships at sea become when the waters turn nasty. The museum recounts the acts of bravery by the resort's heroes, as well as showing how the town changed from a genteel summering place for ladies became a year-round family resort.

The Shore charms everyone who visits. The first tourist, Captain John Smith, after praising the "mildness of the aire, the fertilitie of the soul and the situation of its rivers," declared that "no place is more convenient for pleasure, profit, and mans' sustenance" than the Chesapeake. Who could disagree?
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