by Adam Hinterthuer – It is surreal to be typing these words but – after 15 years – I am saying farewell to the Center for Limnology. In that time, I’ve had the great privilege to help share the stories about – and behind – the world-class science being done from this small, but mighty, center of research. It was a blast, and I will miss the people at both Hasler Lab and Trout Lake Station almost as much as I miss getting paid to go out on boats on Lake Mendota and Trout Lake!  

Water has always played a big role in my life. I grew up in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas and the first aquatic environment to imprint on me was the Buffalo River, which is America’s first national river and the place my parents worked as seasonal park rangers in summer. On the Buffalo, there was rarely a spot where I couldn’t easily skip a rock across to the other bank. Moving to Wisconsin, I was confronted with a different kind of water. Water that wouldn’t keep carrying your canoe when you stopped paddling. Water that was a heck of a lot more difficult to fish. Water that, for parts of the year, you could walk on. Water that was far too wide to skip a rock across. 

Wisconsin’s waters are now as much a part of me as the Buffalo River. And I am relieved that this isn’t a farewell message to Madison – it’s the job on the beautiful UW-Madison shoreline that I’m leaving behind, not the city itself. But, as I step away from my 15 years of translating science and telling stories about our lakes, I’m left with far too many memories to share in a single blog post.

That said, I do want as many people as possible to know some of the things I’ve learned in my decade and a half at the CFL. 

The first is that the Center for Limnology is kind of a big deal. It is regarded as a premier institution for the study of our inland waters – not just here in the U.S., but across the world. We punch way above our weight here in terms of meaningful contributions to the scientific literature, collaborations with resource managers and community members and sending the next generation of aquatic researchers out into the world. And, while I’m biased, I think we do a decent job of sharing our story with the public, too! 

We trace our history back to the founding of the field of limnology in North America and we have amazing, award-winning faculty and engaged, brilliant students and incredible, committed staff that make sure we not only honor our rich history, but chart a future that’s equally as impactful.  Everyone from Madison to Boulder Junction to across the state should be proud that the CFL calls Wisconsin home. 

Of course, none of the CFL’s world-class research would be possible without our amazing lakes, wetlands, rivers and streams. And, for that, we have to acknowledge a blessing from the glaciers. Almost as soon as the last Ice Age ended (in geologic time, at least) humans moved to the shores of the lakes and waters that those retreating hunks of ice had gouged out of the ground. Those original residents left behind mounds that, in many places, still exist to this day – proof of a relationship with these remarkable waters that extends back to time immemorial. Memorials, also, of the troubled history that came after. 

Our lakes have been changed greatly over nearly two centuries of European settlement in Wisconsin thanks to things like draining wetlands and developing shorelines as well as the conversion of our watersheds from prairie and forest to corn, soybean and dairy farms. 

But, even as this history set us on a course of taking our lakes for granted, we are still drawn to their shores. They define our communities and are daily reminders of forces beyond human interests – lives being lived by countless other organisms that call their waters home.

Today, from worsening water quality, to invasive species, to a warming climate, to old contaminants like road salt and new contaminants of concern like PFAS, there are a lot of challenges facing the ecological health of our waters. These challenges result in symptoms like struggling fisheries and harmful algal blooms and shrinking ice seasons – all signs that our waters are under duress. 

Thankfully, we have seen time and again that, if we just give nature a little breathing room, it will often surprise us with its response. A great example is Sparkling Lake in Vilas County. When I began my work at the CFL, the invasive rusty crayfish had, essentially, mowed down almost all of the aquatic vegetation in the lake and many of its fish species were struggling to survive. It was so bad that researchers often couldn’t even catch a bluegill! But, after an intensive CFL effort to trap and remove rusty crayfish, the lake responded. It is now full of beds of aquatic vegetation and healthy populations of native fishes – just one example of many of an ecosystem responding when the main drivers of its degradation can be addressed.  

Of course, science can only get us so far in these efforts. While our research can point to the causes of problems in our freshwaters and also highlight some solutions, that’s where the power of science ends. Society takes it from there – evaluating the evidence, proposing policies, funding restoration, and continuing the discourse. 

I once had a disgruntled resident send me a letter complaining that reading my blog was akin to standing onshore and listening to someone explain why a person out in the water was drowning. And, you know what? He’s right. I, too, got sick of writing posts about our chronically nutrient-polluted waters and the resultant algae blooms. But all we can do as a research center is help our community members and elected officials and resource managers understand the causes of the problems and suggest potential solutions – we can’t actually make society act on the information. But here’s some good news. Even as our current brand of cynical political discourse and blatant dismissal of facts continues to flood our collective social system, there is still a LOT of support for science. 

I will never forget when we hosted our first-ever Science on Tap event at what was then the Minocqua Brewing Company’s facility in a town of fewer than five thousand people in Wisconsin’s Northwoods. The topic that night was the past, present and potential futures of Wisconsin’s waters. Trout Lake Station director, Tim Kratz, and Center for Limnology director, Steve Carpenter, were the speakers. 

It was a bitterly cold February night. It was snowing. We would have been happy if twenty people took time out of their lives to join in the conversation about our lakes. Instead, more than 200 people packed into the room and the overflow bar area downstairs. It was literally standing-room-only … for science! 

And that enthusiasm hasn’t changed. Over more than a decade, Science on Tap-Minocqua has covered everything from dog behavior to heart health to the search for life on other planets. And I don’t think we’ve ever had to settle for only twenty people. Last month, more than one hundred folks came to learn about bats at our new home at Rocky Reef Brewing Co. 

This enthusiasm extends to other things. We routinely get three to four hundred visitors at our annual open houses. Tens of thousands of people have read our little blog.

While science is currently not valued – and, in fact, being actively dismantled at the federal level – decision makers at the state, county and local levels all still rely on the research being done at the CFL to help them make informed decisions.   

Anyone who fishes, swims, boats, skis, skates, drinks or in any other way interacts with our waters, knows that the fact of the matter is that the facts still matter. No amount of propaganda or dismissing other perspectives changes the fact that what we do on land is reflected in our water. We all can see it with our own eyes. Our own lived experience. We know that there is a shared reality around this vital shared resource. And we know that it will take all of us to keep Wisconsin’s waters available for the next generation to enjoy. 

It has been an honor and privilege to share some of what the Center for Limnology has done over the last fifteen years. I can’t wait to see what the next communications person does in this post. Whatever it is, it will reflect a vibrant research center full of incredible people who are all working hard to ensure the longevity of the invaluable waters of Wisconsin.