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At ReefDocotor our eyes are always turned toward the bay, our thoughts on the marine life that is the focus of our time here. It is very hard to look away. One occasion that I had to remind myself that there is a a zone of scientific interest outside coral and its fishy inhabitants was a trip to the fascinating mangrove ecosystem. On September 16th a group of 5 volunteers and I departed at 6:30 am to Honko, a mangrove restoration NGO located in Ambondrolava, a village about halfway between RD and Tulear. Getting there should have been a simple matter of taking the taxi brousse and getting off at Ambondrolava, however these journeys are never simple, especially when a taxi brousse is involved and no one on the trip had ever been to Honko before. At the insistence of the brousse driver and various other passengers, we hopped off at the side of a village, after being reassured that Honko was a short walk away. However, the village wasn’t Ambondrolava and the short walk turned into an hour. Yet what seemed to be a setback turned into one of those great, unplanned excursions. We were guided by an intrepid gaggle of Gasy children along a muddy path that followed the wet edges of the mangroves. Even though I pass by this mass of trees half drowning in water every time I take a taxi brousse to Tulear, this was the first time that I actually took a good look at them. We ambled along the path, enjoying that particular slant of light brought by a just risen sun. To our left were high grasses, and to our right, a creek which seemed to mark the place where dry land disappeared into water. The roots of the trees were invisible in the murky water, and we stopped often to take a picture of a bird flitting between branches shiny from moisture, or frogs and fish, hiding from view in the grasses. We were taken with the strange sight of the submerged trees, some in so deep that only the tops of the leaves were visible. Many were wondering, like me, why we had never noticed them before. When we finally arrived at Honko, we were all eager to learn more about the weird environment we had just trekked through.
Mangroves are essential to the well being of coastal ecosystems. As the border between ocean and land, they serve as a buffer between the two systems. They play the integral role of serving as a nursery for many fish species, guard against the erosion of the coast, and filter the brackish water. They also form a unique ecosystem and serve as a home to many flora and fauna that couldn’t live anywhere else. We walked along wooden walkways as our guide pointed out differences between tree species and told us about the traditional uses the local people had for these plants. We recognized the vondro reed, a plant familiar to us all as the building material for the huts we live in at ReefDoctor. Other plants had medicinal value, like a leaf that dulled pain, and another that relieved malaria symptoms. The wooden walkways turned into a path of raised earth, and most of us took off our flip-flops for the ease and pleasure of squelching through silty mud. Mudskippers tickled my bare feet and hitched a ride on my legs before disappearing beneath the water’s surface. A highlight of the tour was an incredible view from a wooden platform that we reached after climbing a flight of rickety stairs. From high up the water seemed like a mirror dotted by the green clusters of leaves. The reflection of the trees in the water gave the mangroves a muddled appearance and it was impossible to separate one from the other. The concept of trees growing half submerged suddenly didn’t seem so alien to me anymore. We left Honko with a new understanding of a coastal ecosystem just as important as the one we were studying, and the next time I took the taxi brousse to Tulear, I definitely did not let the mangroves slide by my eye without being noticed and marveled at.

- Lauren

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