I love wetlands. I love to explore and muck around in them, and I have shoes caked in mud in the trunk of my car to prove it. I want to experience all they have to offer, from the feisty army of fiddler crabs in the narrow patch of sand out back, to the killifish that supply herons and egrets. In our neck of the woods, wetlands taste like the redfish and drum that use them for nurseries. A “quiet” wetland, if you can find one away from the business of being human, is a virtual symphony of watery, muddy, squishy sounds, not to mention the sounds of insects and animals.
So this is the problem. Texas State Aquarium is filled and surrounded by interesting coastal wetlands that tempt me away from the office. River otters Ari and Merlin may be our most persuasive wetland ambassadors. This is no easy feat, given the Aquarium is also home to crowd favorite Bo the alligator, who was rescued from a drainage ditch (yes that’s a wetland, too) up the road near Taft. Grace, the rehabilitated Bald Eagle from Alaska; the wading birds, especially the roseate spoonbills known as the pink ladies, in the Nearshore exhibit; and Anna the diamondback terrapin in Swamp Tales, all speak volumes on behalf of wetlands every day.
