Deep in the Francis Marion National Forest, longleaf pines edge a large depression in the forest, an isolated wetland called a Carolina bay. Abruptly, the landscape gives way to pond cypress trees, sedges and carnivorous plants—the yellow trumpet pitcher plant, the hooded pitcher plant and the dwarf sundew. On a field trip with about a dozen cadets, biology professor Danny Gustafson, Ph.D., explains that the change in elevation creates a different ecosystem.
Scientists believe that 12,000 years ago—around the time of the mass extinctions of camels, mastodons and saber-toothed cats in North America—an asteroid collided with a massive ice sheet near Michigan, hurling huge chunks of ice into outer space and the atmosphere. “But the chunks in the atmosphere came down and landed in a spray pattern. Along the coastal plains, you can actually see the orientation of the elliptical Carolina bays all pointing back to the same position,” Gustafson said. “Then you swing over to Nebraska, where similar formations called prairie potholes occurred about the same time, orienting toward the Saginaw Valley area in Michigan.”
Carolina bays are unique wetlands that are not fed by streams or springs, but by precipitation. When there’s no rain, they dry up, so plant life must be able to withstand cycles of flooding and drought. “That’s why it’s a unique plant community,” Gustafson said. “The carnivorous plants occur in areas that are low in nitrogen and nutrients, and they’ve evolved the ability to capture insects as a nitrogen source to survive.”
Gustafson, who has been teaching at The Citadel since 2003, has been taking cadets on field trips in his 400-level ecology lab every spring since his arrival. The moment they drive off campus, he says, cadets begin to relax. Cadet Will Fackler, now a senior, is so at ease that he digs into a double-decker peanut butter and jelly sandwich as he trudges through the forest.
“Almost everybody who comes to The Citadel is an outdoor person, playing sports or participating in outdoor activities,” Gustafson said. “I’ll ask them what they know based on where they grew up. Ifthey grew up in Ohio, can they still see the same dynamics? We talk about it and tie it into what we’re doing there, so they understand they’re all connected. Everyone brings something to the lab, and I try to value that. Then we talk about what’s missing and how the science fits.”
Gustafson also takes cadets on field trips to the beach to see what washes up after major storms and to Beidler Forest in Harleyville, home to the world’s largest old-growth cypress-tupelo swamp.
After examining the pitcher plants, Gustafson leads the cadets back through the longleaf pines to another Carolina bay. This one is much deeper and stays filled with water. Small fish dart through the shallow water. Nearby, a black rat snake slithers through the brush as frogs croak in the background. Gustafson sends the cadets out on a search for Southern cricket frogs, and they scatter to look for them.
They hoot and holler. Gustafson smiles, knowing the afternoon in the forest has sparked their curiosity and made science real.