Hines Marsh is a remote wetland on the very edge of Washington that until recently attracted little attention. Even savvy birders – who flock to the far end of Long Beach Peninsula – drive right past the forested edge of the marsh without even knowing it’s there. But recent decades have been anything but peaceful in the marsh. The triumphs and tragedies that have played out here contain enough drama and intrigue to fill a hefty novel.

The lead protagonist is appropriately beautiful and mysterious. The Trumpeter Swan is the world’s largest waterfowl, with dramatic all-white plumage and a black bill. In the early 1900s, Trumpeter Swans were hunted to near extinction; in 1932, according to the Audubon Society, only some 70 birds were known to exist, and none of these were on the west coast. Then in 1950, a flock of Trumpeter Swans 80 strong from central Alaska was discovered wintering on Hines Marsh.

According to Martha Jordan of The Trumpeter Swan Society, “Hines Marsh was, at one time, a beautiful, pristine, interdunal wetland system, which means that it lies between some major sand dunes.” The Long Beach Peninsula is a 27-mile-long skinny stretch of sand that separates the Pacific Ocean and Willapa Bay; sand dunes run north-south almost the whole length of the peninsula, which is attached to the mainland at the south end. Historically, the marsh was 700 acres of freshwater on the far north end of the peninsula, making it the largest interdunal wetland system on the Pacific Coast. Its remote location and wet, swampy terrain meant it was relatively untouched by developers until 1962. Then developers – with visions of houses on canals and an amusement park – ditched and drained the marsh. The swans did not return that winter, and the developer’s money dried up along with the marsh. Martha laughs, “All we can say is, thank God for bankruptcy!” Martha was introduced to the remnants of Hines Marsh, some 20 years after it had been drained and abandoned, by a local oysterman who had a dream of restoring the marsh.

“The oystermen are very vocal in the community,” Martha reports. “These are good people and they really care deeply about the health of the bay.” Martha believes that the reason Willapa Bay is as pristine as it is – and it is the most pristine bay in America today – is because the oyster industry is there. “They are the defenders,” Martha explains. “They have a vested interest in it. The marsh directly affects the quality of water in Willapa Bay.”

The Willapa Bay oystermen had found the advocate they needed in Martha, an independent wildlife biologist based out of Everett. As Martha tells it, she became the leading swan expert in the Northwest by default: “I never wanted to work with swans in the first place – they picked me and insisted that I work with them.” Martha and the swans and the oystermen changed the fate of Hines Marsh in ways they could never have anticipated.

The first step towards marsh recovery occurred in 1984, when mitigation for a nearby road led to reconstruction of breached dunes within the marsh, effectively restoring the natural water flow. The county needed a nonprofit organization to take ownership of the two small dune parcels and since Martha was already there working with The Trumpeter Swan Society, she saw the opportunity for the Society to take ownership of the restored dunes.

Over the years the dunes sat there innocuously doing their job, but it was a controversial topic among some politicians in the county. Some blamed the dunes for flooding a road to the south. Martha recalls, “They did some political maneuvering and they tried to get the dunes removed, but nothing went anywhere because legally they couldn’t. Wetlands are protected!”

In 1989 Martha got wind that 140 acres were coming up for sale at the north end of the peninsula, including the outflow of the entire marsh. She had three days to get the down payment of $7000 together, which she did with just five phone calls to oystermen and The Trumpeter Swan Society donors. Two years later the land was purchased by the Washington State Parks Department to assure its long-term preservation, and Martha was ready to take a breather. “I thought, okay, phew!” she remembers. “I had other things to do. It’s four-and-a-half hours away from where I live. It’s not like it’s across the street.” A few more years passed quietly in the marsh, but Martha was destined to get a lot more familiar with that commute to the Long Beach Peninsula.

The next phase of marsh restoration had an unlikely and an unwilling benefactor. A Pacific County Planning Commissioner grew frustrated with the “problem” of water in the marsh. He decided to take matters into his own hands. In early 1998, he hired two men to take his backhoe out, on the sly, to remove the marsh’s east dune. Martha remembers discovering the marsh dry on a Sunday in January, and hiking in to find the east dune gone. “Water was just gushing out, trees were down everywhere,” she recalls. “It was horrible, as if the marsh’s carotid artery had been cut. It was the worst thing that could possibly happen in the whole system.”

She then drove over to oysterman Dick Sheldon’s house. “I knew what it meant to the oystermen, because we had several thousand acre feet of fresh water and sediment draining out in January, the prime oyster fattening time on their prime beds,” she explains. “It was Sunday afternoon in the middle of the Super Bowl. I walk in and I said, ‘Dick, we have a problem.’ And Dick says, ‘It’s the Super Bowl. Can’t it wait?’ I said, ‘Dick! They’ve taken the east dune.’ He said, ‘No way!’ And I said, ‘They’ve taken the dune. It’s gone.’”

The stealth removal of the dune proved to be the largest hydraulic permit violation and one of the biggest shoreline permit violations in Washington state history. The truth of what had happened very slowly emerged thanks in no small part to the diligent efforts of two Washington State Fish and Wildlife law enforcement officers. Martha was in the midst of a very ugly local battle. “It was the fight of a lifetime,” she admits. “I wasn’t sure I was capable of it – but what these people were doing was so wrong. Because of personal threats, it was suggested I carry a cell phone, never go anywhere alone, and consider a concealed weapon.” Local county officials dragged their feet on issuing permits for replacing the dune, but Martha persevered.

“In the end we were given full restitution,” Martha reports. “The County Planning Commissioner resigned but decided he would do most anything to avoid paying us. So we liened his property and then exercised our lien. He had to sell his 240 acres and went into bankruptcy and we were paid within a year.” That infusion of cash meant that The Trumpeter Swan Society was finally in a position to take the next big step toward restoring the marsh and realizing the dream of bringing the swans back.

Over the 20 years the marsh had been drained, a lot of willows had grown in. When the marsh was reflooded with water when the dunes were restored, the willows died. Martha recalls, “there was this sea of standing dead woody debris. You couldn’t even canoe in it, it was so thick.” So the logical next step was to create open water in the marsh, to repair the aging water control structure, and put in a fish ladder. It was the ethereal dream, and more than $130,000 was needed to make it happen. With the settlement money and the notoriety generated by the dune destruction, the dream was in reach.

Resources and partners to restore Hines Marsh were no longer in short supply. “Hines Marsh went from obscurity to spotlight with Columbia Land Trust, Washington State Parks and Recreation Commission, Ducks Unlimited, the Audubon Society,” Martha explains. With these and other partners, the hard, costly work of clearing the marsh and making needed repairs began. With hip waders and underwater chain saws, 40 acres at the north end of the marsh were cleared. Another 120 acres of marsh habitat was obtained and turned over to Washington State Parks ownership.

In January 2003, Trumpeter Swans returned to the marsh for the first time in 40 years. “That first year, six swans came back to the marsh,” Martha says with a smile, “and this last year we had thirteen.” With the swans back, the future of Hines Marsh seems more secure. Martha continues, “When people see the swans, they are just awestruck. The swans are the greatest ambassadors in the world – whether you are the most hardcore property rights person or the most hardcore animal rights person or somewhere in between – you love the swans. The marsh brings people together.”

While the elegant birds have undeniable appeal, the restored marsh also provides habitat for other waterfowl, otter, bear, beaver, deer, elk, bobcat, and potentially coho salmon. In addition, the marsh provides significant flood control and water quality protection, acting as a filter for groundwater resources and runoff into Willapa Bay.

Martha and the others working to protect Hines Marsh are not resting on their laurels. There are still threats from adjacent landowners, and water rights to protect. “Our original concept was to have this be a wildlife area and to keep people out,” Martha explains. “But the marsh needs to be shared. The more people that know about this place, the more eyes that are on it, the better it can be protected.”