2,4-D

“No wonder my skin turns red and gets itchy when I sit on the Green,” my friend Krystal said—as if a light bulb had flashed ‘on’ in her head—the other night after I told her about the irony of my beautiful and toxic spring afternoon. After throwing a Frisbee around yesterday for hours on the Green, my roommate complained that her legs were itching like crazy.

It all began around 10:30 a.m. when I decided to take a break from morning reading of Living Downstream indoors and head outside to enjoy the warm and sunny day that was unfolding. I spread a beach towel out on the still-wet perfectly green and manicured grass outside of Newcastle Hall, and plopped down to relax for a few minutes before class. I noted that the grass had a distinct, unnatural smell, and I found it a little unnerving. Did I smell the popular herbicide Roundup? Maybe. Or, perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me?

Later, Mr. UD Grounds-I’m-protected-by-a-white-suit-man came by our Honors group spraying 2,4-D all over the grass not 20 yards from where we were sitting. This is outrageous, I thought. Here is this guy, who probably has absolutely no idea what 2,4-D actually is, or its potential harm, spraying it all over the grass in the middle of the day. Hundreds of students were outside on the grass. “Oh, but I spray where all the students sit at 5 a.m., so don’t worry about it,” he said to Mariah, as if trying to reassure her that we shouldn’t fret about being exposed (even though he’s the one wearing an ominous-looking white protective suit.) And that’s supposed to make me feel better? As if I sitting on toxic herbicide 5 hours after it was sprayed is that much better than sitting on it after one? Dubious.

Later, I was telling my teammates about the irony of the experience, and a woman walked by, overhearing my disgust and outrage and said, “Nothing to be worried about? They’re wearing protective suits! Not us!” It seems that us 10 students aren’t the only people worried or skeptical about the spraying, or should I say saturating, the grass with 2,4-D and Roundup. But, how can we effect change? It seems that education and raising awareness might be the first step.

After our group dispersed, I continued to sit in the fountain area chatting with a friend. (The sound of the water is relaxing and I’m enjoying it, but I can’t help but think how much more soothing sitting by a real stream is.) By 2 p.m., I realize I have a pounding headache. I’ve been inhaling this stuff all day, I think. Are my headache and 2,4-D related? Or, maybe it’s just too much sun. I hope it’s the latter. As I write this journal, I’m drafting an e-mail to the assistant director of the Facilities and Grounds department about the university’s use of 2,4-D. I’m interested to hear his response.

In an attempt to escape the monoculture monotony of “the Green” I head down to White Clay to truly enjoy the beautiful weather—away from toxic chemical spraying and “green space” that looks more like the backyard of some new suburban home in some new development that was constructed amid sprawl. But, I’m not really away from the chemicals. After all, during the next heavy rain I’d imagine all of the 2,4-D runs off into sewers (that warn “No Dumping: Sewer Leads To Creek”) and into the creek. I can see a variety of birds and hear a diversity of sounds and pitches and calls and songs, which is very different from the eerily quiet Green, absent of a variety of bird species. I notice a ton of white flowers lined along the path, and the field guide tells me the flower is garlic mustard, which is an invasive species (which makes sense because it is everywhere out here). As I walk by the small pond on my right, I notice tall brown reeds—phragmites-—another invasive species to the creek area. It releases a natural toxic chemical from its roots, which kills the surrounding plants and allows it to spread. Thankfully, I realize I no longer have a headache from breathing in the smell of chemically treated grass—I take a deep long breath of air, and the scent reminds me of, well, spring.

Finally... Spring

After a long Monday of class, an interview, a mind-numbing 4 hours at my internship, and a meeting, it felt incredibly refreshing to take a walk down the creek and just let my mind wander away from deadlines and due dates and just seep in everything I could see, smell and hear. Not to mention the fact that I spent the majority of a beautiful day inside and in a room without any windows, it was reinvigorating to breathe fresh spring air through my lungs and feel the warm sun on my face.

As I walk upstream on the east side of the creek, I notice 2 guys I know off the right side of the path kneeling next to what appeared to be a standing pool of water. I stop and say “Hi,” and the closer I get to the water, the nastier it starts to look. The pool is about 20 feet by 10 feet, and I notice a gross film with an oily tint spread across the surface. There is some movement in the surface water, and to my excitement a frog jumped to the edge! After getting a closer look, it appears to be a bullfrog. I notice another frog a few minutes later, and this one is different—it was much more spotted than the bullfrog. One of the guys, Shawn, tells me he thinks it is a pickerel frog. After seeing the frogs in the stagnant, nasty water I can’t help to wonder how toxic it actually is. Is the water bad enough to kill the frogs? My eyes shift their focus away from the polluted pool, and my glance begins to wander up the hill away from the creek. Not 150 yards up the hill is the Deerfield Golf & Tennis Club, which is essentially more of a toxic waste dump than a nice piece of green, ecologically healthy land. Every time it rains, the water seeps through the fertilizers and pesticides, into the groundwater, flows down the hill into this stagnant nasty pool, and eventually the runoff dumps into the creek. The oily film on the surface of the pool is evidence of this toxic runoff. I actually start to look around the pool for signs of dead frogs—thankfully, albeit to my surprise, there were none.

I leave the stagnant pool a little depressed at the reality of pollution’s effect on the creek’s ecosystem and head toward my spot, hoping to see signs of healthy wildlife or growth. As I approach my special spot, to my dismay, I realize 8 fishermen have invaded! Thankfully none were standing within 30 yards of my spot, but 3 are standing across the stream in my direct sight, 3 are downstream past the dam, and 2 are on my side of the creek a bit upstream. I sit down on my rock and begin to watch the sole Canadian goose as it bobs around near the dam. It’s soothing, almost peaceful to be here, even right in the middle of these 8 fishermen. While sitting, I begin looking around for signs of change. About 10 feet to my left, I notice motionless water pooled in a small area trapped by rocks. The surface looks pretty nasty. Is it pollution? Possibly algae? Or even sediment that has come up from the creek’s bottom? Tiny (nasty) brown bubbles come up from the surface at the edge of the still water. Even as I basically stick my nose inches from the surface, it’s hard to tell why it is that way (not to mention I’m no scientist). Could it be a pooling of different nutrients and chemicals? It reminds me of eutrophication, or nutrient over-enrichment often caused by fertilizer runoff. Nutrient over-enrichment means too much oxygen, which leads to algal blooms. The algae suck up the oxygen and fish die. Was this eutrophication occurring—on a small scale—right in front of my eyes?

No wonder fish can’t survive in the creek here, I think. It now makes sense why the Delaware and Pennsylvania State Parks stock the creek with trout at different times throughout the fishing season.