Rethinking Tennessee Dams
Many of Tennessee's dams don't fulfill their original purpose, and even cause harm. Find out what we're doing about it.
Conservation in the Southern United States
by Daniel White | The Nature Conservancy
The rising sun rapidly warms a clear, breezy spring morning on Florida’s Atlantic Coast. As I leave Cocoa Beach and cross the Banana and Indian rivers, numerous boaters are already bobbing on the chop. And from nearly every sandy pull-off along the causeway, people are trying their luck at fishing.
At Highway 1, I head north, pass a power plant and navigate through a series of small towns with inviting riverfront parks. From Titusville, I turn northwest and soon enter Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge. Across this expanse of natural habitat, unusual structures in the distance flag the location of Cape Canaveral, which gives this area the name “Space Coast.”
I’m exploring this area to get a sense of the Indian River Lagoon—a complex and bustling ecological system that’s a high conservation priority for The Nature Conservancy. Full confession: I’m also chasing a bucket-list experience. I really, really want to see my first manatee in the wild.
The manatee is a Florida icon. In winter, manatees congregate in Florida’s warm-water springs, drawing masses of tourists. Here on the cusp of summer, though, rising water temperatures enable them to disperse. Some will travel up the Atlantic coast as far as Georgia or the Carolinas.
I fear I’ll need more than a little luck to spot one of these fascinating imperiled creatures.
When we pull back our lens to view the entire South, we can see that ours is a region blessed with many such icons of the natural world.
Like our Gulf Coast fish and oysters and Chesapeake Bay blue crabs—and the hard-working watermen who pursue them. Like our bayous, blackwater rivers, barrier islands and migratory birds. Like red-cockaded woodpeckers nesting within longleaf pines and blue mountain ridges rolling to the horizon. The list goes on.
Definitions of “The South” vary. But in TNC terms, we are describing the region that spans from the Gulf Coast states of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Florida and up through Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia.
TNC’s work across these 10 states—along with cross-boundary collaborations—is as intricate and diverse as this vast landscape itself. But here, as around the globe, urgent environmental threats unite us and drive us to tackle climate challenges, secure clean and abundant water and food, protect vital habitat and support local communities.
Communities and nature have always been intertwined here. From agriculture to fishing to tourism, many Southerners depend on natural resources to earn their livings and feed their families. As TNC pursues ambitious goals toward a healthy future for nature and people, the South is making vital contributions.
TNC and our partners have created a roadmap to protect, connect, manage and restore the lands most essential to nature and people in the face of climate and biodiversity challenges. Our highest priorities are those areas demonstrating the greatest propensity for resilience: the longleaf pine system, the Gulf and South Atlantic coastal lands, and the Appalachians.
In the mountains of Kentucky, Tennessee and Virginia, for example, TNC is undertaking one of our largest-ever conservation efforts in the eastern United States: the Cumberland Forest Project. Both Shenandoah and Acadia national parks would fit inside Cumberland’s 253,000-acre footprint, with room to spare. This vast forested mosaic encompasses two parcels: the Highlands in Southwest Virginia and Ataya along the Kentucky-Tennessee line.
These lands hold deep cultural significance for the Cherokee, Shawnee and Yuchi Nations and peoples. And the communities scattered across this swath of Appalachia—some of which originated as coal company towns—are striving to diversify and revitalize their economies.
TNC’s conservation approach seeks to honor the land’s rich history and its importance to local communities. As we work to protect and restore vital forestland, we also generate benefits for community initiatives that embrace conservation.
Moreover, we are addressing climate issues through a three-pronged approach. Forest conservation here captures and contains millions of tons of carbon dioxide. We are also keeping intact a critical migratory corridor for plant and animal ranges to shift to more hospitable climates while also working with the solar energy sector to repurpose former minelands.
Fresh water is the lifeblood of the South. Our streams and rivers are the veins and arteries through which it flows, linking the Appalachians to the Atlantic and Gulf.
As a global hotspot for rare aquatic wildlife, Southern waters face mounting pressures to meet nature’s needs as well as our own. TNC focuses on protecting rivers, conserving floodplains and enhancing the natural connections within and between freshwater systems on which people and nature depend.
High-Priority Watersheds:
The Appalachians
Apalachicola-Chattahoochee-Flint
Georgia, home to the renowned Okefenokee Swamp, exemplifies TNC’s strategic engagement across the spectrum of freshwater conservation. The state’s rivers teem with amphibians and fish, including sunfishes, shiners and darters. Communities, meanwhile, depend on clean, abundant fresh water for drinking, agriculture and recreation.
In the Lower Flint River Basin, for example, TNC has worked with farmers to protect their livelihoods and water supplies by upgrading irrigation systems with new water-saving technologies. And in co-leading the statewide Georgia Aquatic Connectivity Team, TNC helps repair or remove failing culverts and dams that block fish and potentially threaten people’s safety.
Recently, TNC’s Georgia and Alabama teams embarked on an ambitious collaboration to protect the 100,000-acre Dugdown Corridor. This tapestry of rivers and forests, which some conservationists compare to the Amazon, largely follows and helps filter the Tallapoosa River. Ultimately, TNC envisions a natural corridor connecting state lands on the western outskirts of Atlanta to Alabama’s Talladega National Forest.
Because healthy, productive marine and coastal ecosystems feed our people, provide recreation, buffer us from storms and drive vital sectors of our economy, TNC is focused on scaling up estuary conservation and bolstering healthy fisheries.
For instance, since the Deepwater Horizon explosion 15 years ago catalyzed TNC’s Gulf program, we’ve made remarkable progress toward restoring this globally important ecosystem. These are just a few of the ways we’re making a real difference in the Gulf’s natural and human communities:
Constructing oyster reefs in Apalachicola, Galveston, Matagorda, Pensacola and St. Louis bays, along with Calcasieu Lake and the Suwannee River estuary
Strengthening coastal resources such as the Lightning Point project in Alabama and Texas
Helping protect and restore critical habitats on Alabama’s Lower Perdido Islands so that natural resources and wildlife can thrive alongside human recreation
Expanding access so residents and visitors alike can better appreciate and enjoy the Gulf
And, through our Ocean and Coasts program, we’re looking holistically not only at the Gulf, but also conserving interconnected coastal and offshore Atlantic Ocean systems stretching from the Florida Keys to our Volgenau Virginia Coast Reserve.
To keep people and nature healthy, TNC works with partners to expand prescribed fire and the related workforce, restore fire-adapted habitats, revitalize Indigenous fire cultures and help communities live more safely with fire.
While TNC conducts periodic burning to rejuvenate Appalachian forests, such as in Virginia’s Allegheny Highlands, nowhere is fire more important in the South than throughout our longleaf pine systems.
More than 90 million acres of longleaf forest once blanketed the South’s coastal plains—so much pine that Colonial Americans believed the trees to be inexhaustible. Many East Coast cities were originally built from longleaf pine, and naval power once hinged on supplies of pine tar, resin, pitch and turpentine known collectively as “naval stores.”
Just 20 years ago, barely over 3 million acres of these quintessential Southern forests remained. Along with the longleaf itself, a rich web of life was also disappearing—from myriad wildflowers and tall grasses to gopher tortoises and red-cockaded woodpeckers.
Today, longleaf pines are literally rising from the ashes, thanks to the largest forest restoration initiative in North America. TNC works alongside myriad partners to plant millions of longleaf seedlings and, more importantly, keep “good fire” on the ground. Longleaf needs that fire to thrive, having adapted to centuries of fires ignited by lightning and Indigenous Peoples.
Restoring longleaf and other pine savannas has led to a rebound in red-cockaded woodpecker populations. In 2024, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service announced that the bird, which had been on the federal endangered species list since 1973, would be downgraded to “threatened.”
Some scientists caution, though, that downlisting the red-cockaded woodpecker was premature. Despite clear progress, we have a long road ahead to bring longleaf ecosystems all the way back from the brink.
Restoring longleaf—and the web of life these systems once supported—isn’t just about nostalgia. The longleaf pine’s natural resistance to fire, heat and drought offers an enduring promise of healthier, more resilient Southern forests of the future.
With increases in the frequency and intensity of wildfires, heat waves, storms and flooding, people and nature are experiencing poor water quality, impaired health, and habitat degradation and loss, among other risks. TNC invests in natural climate solutions that capture and reduce carbon while also generating benefits for local communities.
The carbon-capturing benefits of forest restoration are well documented in places like the Cumberland Forest. But TNC is expanding scientific understanding of the lesser known but potentially more effective impacts of restoring seagrasses (AKA “blue carbon”) and, most recently, peatlands.
North Carolina is leading the way in peatlands conservation. The word peat may evoke images of Irish farmers burning bricks of sod for fuel or the flavors of a fine single-malt Scotch. But scientists look at peat soils and see a habitat that stores more than double the carbon contained within all the world’s forests despite covering a mere 3% of the Earth.
A significant share of that peat—about 700,000 acres—graces the coastal plains of North Carolina, but much of it has been ditched and drained and needs restoration. With support from a federal grant backing a four-state coalition that also includes Maryland, Virginia and South Carolina, TNC recently purchased more than 2,700 acres in Pamlico County to restore the property to its natural wetlands condition.
Ultimately, the site will be added to the state’s public lands, more than tripling the Light Ground Pocosin Game Land. And over the next few years, TNC expects to restore 33,000 acres of peatlands in all, as well as protect another 10,500 acres through conservation agreements or ownership.
Driving the wildlife loop at Merritt Island, I enjoy lovely views of mangroves, along with sightings of wading birds and sun-bathing alligators. My next planned stop—and my best and last chance to spot a manatee—is the refuge’s viewing deck along Haulover Canal, which connects the Indian River and Mosquito lagoons.
I reach the water’s edge, and immediately, almost unbelievably, a manatee partially surfaces directly below. A broad, whiskered snout. An audible huff of breath. Then a splash and it’s gone. These are brief but thrilling impressions.
Over the next 20 minutes, a half-dozen manatees will make brief appearances, including a barely submerged mother and calf. I track their torpedo shapes as they glide into a small freshwater spring feeding into the canal just beyond the walkway.
Though it’s not exactly crowded here, I’m in no danger of feeling lonely on this Friday morning at the end of manatee viewing season. (In the Crystal River area alone, on the opposite coast, local officials estimate that manatee tourism generates $20-30 million annually.) Tourism can be a double-edged sword, as boat collisions remain a top threat to these animals. The mother manatee I had just seen carried a foot-long propeller scar on her back.
As I watch the boats plying the canal, I can’t help but think of the classic video game Frogger. Not that this boat traffic is anywhere near as dense as the game’s bumper-to-bumper vehicles, but boats pass steadily enough to give me pause. Moreover, I know that manatees have struggled to find enough of the aquatic plants they need for food—plants that depend, in turn, on clean water.
As the South grows, will our people make room for manatees and our other iconic wildlife? Will we summon the wisdom and the resolve to ensure that our economic activities are compatible and sustainable?
These are knotty problems, to be sure. But as the manatee mother and calf gradually fade from sight, I’m reminded of the power of sticking together. The Nature Conservancy, a host of agencies and countless individuals work together every day to ensure that these gentle giants will never disappear forever.
Every month we'll send you our best stories and ways to get involved. Get a preview of a Nature News email.
Read powerful stories of how people are protecting nature across the South—and see how you can make a difference too.