Recent aerial detail of Lake Okeechobee, near Clewisston, is nearly unrecognizabnle to locals. High water has snuffed out aquatic grasses that once thrived among these islands. From far left is sugar country, U.S. Highway 27, the levee and the Rim Canal.

Each January, state biologists run a trawl sampling on Lake Okeechobee to assess the black crappie population. They pull the trawl net six or seven times, a cycle lasting about 15 minutes. The average total catch is around 500 crappie, with the norm being 50 to 75 percent juvenile fish and the rest harvestable adults. That indicates the population is healthy and in balance.

That didn’t happen in 2005.

“We pulled eight times,” says biologist Steven Gornak of the Florida Freshwater Commission, who has been working on the Big O since 1992, “and found a fraction of the crappie we normally get. We pulled eight more times and the final tally was only 146 crappie. We pulled twice as long and found less than one-third the crappie than we historically do. The most disturbing part was that only four of them were juvenile fish. It would appear that we have lost a year class.”

That’s not good news for crappie fishermen, because while a speck can live six or seven years, there is a noticeable decline in the numbers of any year class after three or four years. The continued health of a crappie fishery depends upon the annual spawn and recruitment of those fry into the adult population.

Crappie aren’t the only Big O fishery that appears to be in trouble.

Electro-sampling in 2003/04 showed respectable numbers of adult and juvenile largemouth bass. In 2004/05 studies there were still decent numbers of mature bass. But, young of the year (YOY) bass numbers were down to alarming levels.

“We did not see nearly the numbers of YOY and juvenile bass that we would expect,” Gornak noted, “and given the numbers of mature bass in our sampling we feel that unless conditions change, we are looking at only another two years, three years max, for that fishery.”

Okeechobee problems can be summed up in two words: high water.

In order for the lake to reach its maximum wildlife potential, water levels need to fluctuate between 13 and 15.5 feet. The lower figure should ideally be achieved by early June, and the 15.5-foot level by early December, following the rainy season and entering the “dry” season. This, according to FWC biologists, is where the lake is at its historical best.

Lower than normal water levels are not at all bad. They produce a natural drawdown that has the same effect on the rejuvenation of the littoral zones as do the manmade drawdowns conducted on Rodman, the Kissimmee Chain and other lakes. They may impede navigation while low-water conditions exist, but are ultimately beneficial.

High water is the killer. And, unfortunately, that’s exactly where the Big O has been kept, especially since the hurricanes of 2004. As this is being written, lake levels are at 16.6 feet, with more water on the way. According to Gornak, that has a devastating effect on the lake.

“Okeechobee is a big lake,” he explains, “with a significant wind and wave action that moves a lot of bottom sediment. Under normal water levels the wave energy dissipates at the vegetated littoral zone and the sediment is deposited there. The littoral zone remains clean and clear, fish can live there, plants can grow, and the lake remains healthy.”

Raise the water level too high, and waves blow right past the outer vegetation edge; pound the littoral zone; uproot vegetation; and muddy the water so that sunlight cannot penetrate, which prevents plant seeds from germinating. In effect, it destroys both the sanctuary the fry need, and the filtering system that keeps the lake healthy. The more plants lost, the more turbid the water gets, so the problem perpetuates itself.

When vegetation dies off, any lake could turn into a phosphorous-rich “soup” incapable of supporting even a marginal fishery—much like the once-famous Lake Apopka.

“High water has caused significant vegetation loss in the past,” says Gornak, “but we have never experienced the vegetation loss that we are seeing now. Virtually all the bulrush is gone. You can forget peppergrass, and there is very little eelgrass left. Some hydrilla is trying to hang in there, and there are some lotus pads remaining in the boat trails. The only plants actually surviving in numbers are cattails, and they are shrinking with the continued high water.”