With apologies to Max, the central character in Maurice Sendak’s 1963 classic Where The Wild Things Are, and his arduous journey “in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night of his very own room”, Alice the Moose puts his to shame. Alice left her home park in the Adirondacks in upstate New York, swam across the St. Lawrence river, somehow made it across the four-lane 401 highway and finally completed her 570 km-long journey by arriving in Ontario’s Algonquin Park. Talk about a wild trip!

Alice was just doing what comes naturally – migrating with the seasons, in search of safer grounds and more plentiful sources of nourishment. And not just Alice. Lots of other animals. Thousands of different species of animals in every glorious manifestation have been migrating through what’s now known as the ‘Algonquin to Adirondacks’  region (A2A) for thousands if not millions of years. We humans joined the pilgrimage for our own survival, dodging the worst of winter’s wrath and following our meal-tickets as they embarked on their own migrations.

Turns out, there’s an interconnected network of trails and wildways stretching up the east cost of North America. You – or an Alice – could travel from Everglades National Park through Georgia’s Smoky Mountains, up the Appalachians, through the Adirondacks, across the Frontenac Arch and the St. Lawrence river and on into Algonquin Park. And there’s an organization that has charted these wildways, the species (and their movements) and the threats to biodiversity, particularly the numerous species-at-risk.

In October 2019, Wildlands Network released an interactive map of the Eastern Wildway, representing a major step forward in realizing a vision of connectivity for this region:

In their own words:

The Eastern Wildway contains some of North America’s most beloved national parks, preserves, scenic rivers, and other wild places, from the wilderness of Quebec, the Adirondacks, and the Shenandoah Valley, to the Great Smoky Mountains and Everglades National Park. Protecting and expanding these and other key core areas is crucial to rewilding the East.

I like the idea of rewilding. Of our spaces and our souls. Allowing our footfalls to provide the syncopation as we walk away our worries, lost-to-be-found in nature. And allowing nature to reclaim, to repossess, what we humans have taken from them, the birds, the bees, the flowers and the trees.

I was thinking about Alice recently when I came across a tragic story about a deer. This deer had managed to swim to Prince Edward Island – akin to Marilyn Bell swimming across Lake Ontario – only to be hit and killed by a transport truck not long after its arrival on the island. Alice had somehow survived an ordeal similar to our dearly-departed deer friend in PEI. And in Alice’s case, she was crossing one of the busiest highways in North America, the 401/TransCanada. At the point where Alice dodged death, the 401 is four lanes wide and busy almost 24 hours a day. This was Alice’s reality and the reality faced by every other ground-based species that migrates through the A2A region. The animals are simply following deep programming, genetic memories of migrations from hundreds of generations. The pathways are ancient. Highways are the interlopers, the recent development that benefits one species to the detriment of all others.

There are solutions. They go by a variety off names – wildlife overpasses, animal bridges, wildlife crossings – but I like to think of them as a modern iteration on an ancient tale. In the biblical story of Noah and his Ark, human wickedness required global cleansing, as the Almighty prepared to wash the sins of humans away through the medium of an unprecedented flood. But recognizing that the animals did not cause the wickedness and therefore should be saved, Noah was instructed by the Big Boss to construct a gigantic ark, a boat, that could hold a pair of each species. This would allow the animals to repopulate the world after the forty days of ‘cleansing’.

In our modern times, humanity constructs transportation monuments that seem built to demand animal sacrifice. But when we build a bridge – a Noah’s Arch – that allows wildlife to cross our highway infrastructures, we fulfill an obligation to right a wrong.

The A2A Collaborative’s Road Ecology project is aiming “to help reduce wildlife road mortality across the entire Algonquin to Adirondacks region by making recommendations on the best possible locations for wildlife crossings.” There are strong financial reasons to support these public works projects that buttress the moral reasons. In Alberta’s Bow Valley, a study found that “from 1998 and 2010 (there) was…an average of 62 WVCs (wildlife-vehicle collisions) per year. This amounts to an average cost-to-society of $640,922 per year due to motorist crashes with large wildlife, primarily ungulates.”

An “analysis of a wildlife underpass with fencing at a 3 km section… within the project area near Dead Man’s Flats showed that total WVCs dropped from an annual average of 11.8 per-construction to an annual average of 2.5 WVCs post-mitigation construction. The wildlife crossings and fencing reduced the annual average cost by over 90%, from an average of $128,337 per year to a resulting $17,564 average per year.”

The judicious construction of wildlife crossings saves lives and saves money. And it makes our wildways that much more alive with wildlife. It’s time for us humans to do our part and prioritize wildlife crossings on our major highways and roadways.

Alice would thank you.

The post WHERE THE WILDWAYS ARE appeared first on A\J.

Since our current food system gives us the freedom to go to the grocery store and buy any type of food packaged up on a shelf, the connection between the consumer and where food comes from is often lost and taken for granted. But all of our nourishment comes from the earth and that connection needs to be rekindled. We need to connect ourselves to our food to appreciate how important the Earth is to human existence, just like all other life, and to remember that we are a part of nature. Growing food in our own backyards is one way to foster this connection. People have been gardening for thousands of years, so through growing our own food from the land, we can learn skills that our ancestors have passed down to our generations and connect with history as well.

Cherry tomatoes from my best friend’s garden // Source: Siobhan Mullally

Growing our own food has so many benefits. The health benefits alone are plenty: gardening provides fresh produce, an opportunity to get fresh air and physical activity, and for many individuals, a way to de-stress. Many people have expressed their stress relief through gardening since the act of growing something in the soil takes you to the present moment where you can focus on your own hands planting seeds, weeding, and watering. In our current world, we can get so caught up in our work, our to-do lists, our future worries. With long hours on our computers and our phones always by our sides, it feels like there is no rest from the notifications and all the thoughts that come associated with them. I just finished my undergraduate degree and on my first day of “freedom”, I sat in my room and didn’t know what to do. I had to make a list of “things to do when you don’t know what to do” because my brain was so untrained to accept rest and free time. This is a product of the fast-paced, capitalist world we live in. But last summer, I visited my best friend’s house and helped her garden. When we were digging in the soil, spreading mulch, and watering flowers, there was no space to worry about other things. It was just me and the earth and the present moment. I think gardening can help us reduce our eco-anxiety and whatever other anxieties we feel by giving us this sense of peace.

In addition to growing food, planting native wildflowers is another way to garden that can improve native biodiversity, support pollinator and wildlife communities, and create beautiful, low-maintenance spaces of your yard to enjoy. Planting native vegetation is key to helping create and restore ecosystems for native wildlife.

“By planting vegetables or flowers, we can take those small steps towards sustainability in our own little corner of the world.”

Throughout history, people have planted non-native plants from different areas of the world usually for aesthetic reasons. Many of those non-native plants have since spread, dominated ecosystems, outcompeted important native species, and changed natural areas for the worse. Native plants are so important to support biodiversity and restore natural habitats for other wildlife. In the first article I wrote for A\J, I talked about ecological restoration and how individuals can help restore nature in their own backyard spaces. We all have an impact and we can all make those impacts positive. By planting vegetables or flowers, we can take those small steps towards sustainability in our own little corner of the world.

A mulberry from my mom’s backyard // Source: Siobhan Mullally

Gardening is such a wonderful way to connect to the earth, but it becomes a problem for those of us who do not have any space to do so. If you’re like me and you don’t have your own land to create a garden, there are other ways to plant and create mobile gardens. You can plant vegetables, herbs, or flowers in small pots in your house or apartment, on a balcony or porch, or in window boxes. You can also seek out local community gardens in your neighbourhood and look into renting or sharing a garden space there. There are options to be sustainable for nearly everyone and there continue to be more inclusive options as our communities move in the right direction.

If gardening just isn’t your thing or you can’t make it work for you, that’s okay. We’re all connected to nature and you can feel that just by going outside and appreciating what is around you. It starts with mindfulness. If you go outside, whether you are in your backyard, on a city street, or in a park, you can be intentional about what you focus on. Mindfulness teaches us to be present and aware of our surroundings. Being mindful in nature is paying attention to all the little details of nature around us. A mosaic of pinecones and leaves on your lawn, a fuzzy caterpillar crossing the sidewalk, birds singing to each other, the soft sound of wind blowing through trees, the feel of grass beneath your shoe soles. These details can ground you in nature and allow you to zoom in closer and feel like you are a part of it, not separate from it. It really comes down to establishing and fostering a relationship with nature whether you are planting a wildflower garden, growing tomatoes on your balcony, or taking a walk around your block and paying attention to the world around you.

Observing pollinators on my walk home from school // Source: Siobhan Mullally

“By stepping outside, not only are you getting a good dose of fresh oxygen, serotonin, vitamin D, and maybe a pretty sunset out of it – you’re reconnecting with the earth. The ground you’re walking on. The plants and animals that you coexist with. The little delights that live and thrive and breathe and walk and live all around you. And if we keep connecting with these things, I hope we will feel a little bit more grounded in our own backyards, realizing that we’re part of nature and we can take care of it in the footsteps of people who have done so for many generations. We can get to know the names of the species around us, the bird calls, the texture of the grass outside, the smell of the soil in our gardens. These details are important – they are vital to upholding the connection we have to the Earth. And we will be able to fight for this planet and remedy our eco-anxiety if we keep tending to the relationship we have with nature.” -Siobhan Mullally, “A Being in Nature: How the Mourning Dove’s Call of Inspiration Quieted My Busy Mind”

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Judge Smith was suitably impressed and “recognized Mrs. Rogerson’s original strain as a new, unique, and distinct breed. He went on to encourage development of the (breed) … and he later developed the first breed standards.”

Mrs. Rogerson’s new breed was the Gloster (for Mrs. Rogerson’s home shire) Fancy Canary, and it came in two versions, the Gloster Corona and the Gloster Consort.

The Gloster Corona (left) and Gloster Consort (right) (images from Animal World)

The Gloster Corona was, as its name suggests, crowned with crested plumage, the first to catch the eyes of canary admirers already drawn to its pleasant singing and good-hearted demeanour. The Gloster Consort was, as its name suggests, a bit less regal-looking and, if it were human, possibly harbouring a grudge for being denied the crown and the attention. But each version was equally important and Mrs. Rogerson’s creation, coming in an age when canaries were admired for their singing – and for their utility to us as harbingers of doom in our coal mines – developed a strong and loyal following, persisting to this day as a leading canary-fanciers favourite.

Four years before the birth of the Gloster Consort, a young man was born on a Greek island who would, as fate would have it, come to learn a thing or two about birds. And, interestingly, nine years after the exhibition, a young man would be born in a town in southwest Ontario who would, as fate would have it, also come to learn a thing or two about birds.

Margaret Atwood and Graeme Gibson (left), Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip (right)

***

Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark was born on the Greek island of Corfu, and came to international prominence when his acquaintance with Princess Elizabeth of Great Britain became more than an acquaintance. In 1946, King George VI gave his permission and blessing to the marriage of his daughter, the presumptive heiress to the throne, to this tall, handsome young princeling who’s lineage could be traced back to the German principalities, a lineage shared with his betrothed (and with many of the sovereigns of Europe, in fact).

Prince Phillip was a constant presence in my life. I was born 10 years after Phillip’s Queen ascended to the throne and I have watched from afar as a loyal subject of his (and my) Queen and an admirer of his for the way in which he navigated his life. In many ways, the dynamic that underpinned the relationship between Phillip and Elizabeth was mirrored in my own world as my mother, ‘Queen May’, ruled the realm with the genial assistance of her consort, my father George. My Dad, a former Royal Marine Commando, stayed at home during most of my childhood while my Mom went off to work at the hospital, or the modelling agency, or the nursing home. My Dad did the cooking and cleaning, along with whatever odd job that he’d pick up in his former trade as a carpet-master and flooring specialist. And he did it with a smile on his face that only broadened when he’d meet his grandchildren in his daily parade as the King of Queen Street. A man who could (and probably did; he always hedged when asked specifically) kill somebody with his bare hands, hands that were scarred and calloused from a life’s labour, would stop everything and drop everything to pick up a beaming grandchild and whisk her up into an impromptu dance. And then he’d hurry home to ensure that the supper was on and the place was set for my Mom’s return from work, the happiest part of my Dad’s day.

(George and May McConnachie, circa 1960s)

In most respects, I saw this as completely normal and assumed that every father was so hard yet soft, a sinner yet a saint. Sometimes, though, I’d question how my Dad put aside his masculinity as a member of the supposed superior sex to assume what was a traditional feminine role, the helpmate, in the very patriarchal society of the 1960s and 70s. Did it make him more or less of a man? And what lessons would I draw as I grew into my own manhood?

In these questioning times, and perhaps sensing my unease, my Dad and I would start talking (both of us well-known non-stop talkers) about the military career of Prince Phillip and the important roles that he played for Canada, Scotland and the rest of the British Empire. How he carried himself with great dignity. How he put his family first. How he took the most masculine step possible, to take a step back to allow someone else to shine, and to do so with a sense of duty and responsibility that was absolutely necessary to the role. Being the consort of a Queen was no easy task, but there always seemed to be a smile on Phillip’s face as he beamed at his Queen and she at he. It seemed as real to me as the love that was demonstrated between my parents, and I knew that my mother’s successes in this world were directly related to the scrubbing of the laundry and the seasoning of the stew, and the countless other little duties, that my father fulfilled with a joyfulness in his heart that everyone felt.

Both Prince Phillip and my Dad (and my Mom’s consort), George, were born in the year 1921. They both fought in battles in far off lands and fought battles for their families closer to home. They were faulty human beings – as we all are – but each managed to persevere through their own limitations and life’s challenges to be the strongest supporters and the loudest fan of their respective Queens. It is a lesson that I have taken to heart – and taken home to roost whenever I have been fortunate enough to be joined in my own life’s journey by a Queen.

***

Phillip of Greece and George of Glasgow shared many traits and commonalities. One of the most obvious to me was the love of the outdoors, a respect for nature and an understanding that we human beings are but one small species in a giant ecosystem called life-on-earth. I used to watch the annual BBC specials on the Royal Family, and invariably there’d be a mention of Prince Phillip’s conservation efforts, specifically in the area of birds. My Dad kept his conservation efforts nearer to us, opening the back door in the morning and stepping out to feed his ‘wee beasties’, the squirrels, chipmunks and birds that would soon be eating their own meals from his hands. He’d share wisdom straight from de Saint-Exupéry about the importance of stewardship, not the fleeting kind but the long-tailed kind of stewardship that came with as many tears as triumphs. He’d share tales from his own wartime adventures, the birds that he saw in Egypt or the crows in the bell towers in Italy. He’d sing songs that he’d make up, swearing to me that he was only replicating what he’d been taught by the birds. To this day, I’ll engage in singathons with the jays and others in the trees near me (of which they might not always appreciate), just to recall the feeling of, that moment of, my hero, my father, being in tune with nature. And everything being good in the world

“To this day, I’ll engage in singathons with the jays and others in the trees near me (of which they might not always appreciate), just to recall the feeling of, that moment of, my hero, my father, being in tune with nature. And everything being good in the world.”

My Dad was a near-urban wildlife aficionado, a product of his own upbringing in the tenement blocks of Glasgow. He would sally forth with a backpack on his back as a boy, especially when he was visiting relatives in the relatively bucolic Firth of Forth town called North Queensferry, right across from Mary Queen of Scots’ castle in Edinburgh. And the stories that he’d tell, of going up and down the moors, of splashing through the streams, and of lazing under the bright skies while watching the birds overhead and wondering if these winged creatures were actually God’s cherubim incarnate.

When my Dad talked of nature, he’d do so with a reverence in his voice, of the quiet and the peace. Of the giant trees and glistening lakes. Of the clear skies and clearer water, water that was so cool that you could quench your thirst even on the hottest day. Of the animals, large and small, that made the woods and forests their homes. And of the need to respect nature and all her parts, of which we were just one little aspect.

“You’re one in a million to me, Davey, but to the rest of the planet you’re just one of a million.”

As I got older and started reading history books about my father’s battles, I started to gain a deeper understanding of why my Dad, a man of action, would retreat into nature as a place of both solitude and rebirth. In battle, there is no peace, no quiet. In battle, the trees are torn asunder by artillery shells and the lakes stained red. In battle, there is constant thirst, a thirst for life, that is parched by the heat and the dust and the fear, and cool respites are few and far between. In battle, the woods and the forests become death-traps, for the humans and for every species, eerily devoid of bird calls but overflowing with smoke and fire and flames. And death.

Nature, alive, is full of life. Nature, alive, breathes and breeds new life. Nature, alive, is now a known antidote and remedy for those suffering from mental anguish and illness, a perfect ‘safe space’ to retreat into to undergo nature therapy. Breathing with the trees. Ebbing and flowing with the waters. Waking with the birds and drifting off to sleep to the cicadas. Meditation and introspection, a humbling that comes by appreciating your own inanity in this world full of pomposity and insanity.

Today, when I am perplexed by a problem and need to clear my mind, nothing works better than taking Zoey the dog (half border collie, half husky, all go) for a walk in the nearby nature trail here in Exeter, Ontario. I become mindful of each step we take. I become mindful of the sounds of the forest. I become mindful of the wind chilling my cheek. And, in doing so, my mind gains space from the perplexing problem. In most cases, that space and distance is enough to allow my logical thoughts to win the argument in my head and allow me to take the appropriate step(s). My emotional side has been succoured by nature. Nature becomes my consort, if you will.

***

In addition to the aforementioned Phillip and George, there’s another gentleman who embodies the spirit of being a consort in life and to life. Graeme Gibson of London (Ontario) was born into conditions more akin to George than Phillip. The son of Scottish immigrants, he and his family moved around a fair bit as a lad as they sought opportunities in this new land, but Graeme managed to take the right steps by graduating from the prestigious Upper Canada College and the University of Western Ontario. He was drawn to literature, as an outlet, and to the idea that change must be fostered, as a zeitgeist. His early works, released in the late 1960s and early 1970s, were considered by many in Canada’s literary circles as benchmarks of experiential literature, exploring important themes from perspectives not then shared by many. The works were rich in imagery and challenging in comprehension, requiring a degree of open-mindedness that narrowed mass market appeal. But Graeme understood that the purpose of literature was to serve the need of the story, and the storyteller, and if that meant limiting sales potential then so be it.

Becoming a champion of storytelling and storytellers was one of Graeme’s noble purposes, that driving compulsion to act in a manner that is not self-serving but serves the greater good.

Becoming a champion of storytelling and storytellers was one of Graeme’s noble purposes, that driving compulsion to act in a manner that is not self-serving but serves the greater good Graeme was one of the founders of the Writers’ Union of Canada, helped form the Writer’s Trust of Canada, and was a co-founder and president of PEN Canada. In the world of Canadian literature, the name Graeme Gibson became synonymous with fighting for writers’ right to write, and using their collective voices to affect change. And given that most Canadian writers exist within a very small cage of celebrity – with the resulting financial rewards that come with it – Graeme was really fighting for those who could not, through their small sales footprint (or not-yet-written first novel) earn enough daily bread to feed themselves, let alone the neighbourhood birds.

I was drawn to PEN Canada in the early 1980s as that organization began advocating for causes that resonated with my still-developing soul. PEN Canada’s mission:

PEN Canada celebrates literature, defends freedom of expression and aids writers in peril.

There seemed to be two voices that I heard most frequently from PEN. Graeme Gibson was the fiery organizer and orator. Margaret Atwood was the voice from upon high, a Canadian literary author with truly global impacts, and especially important in the areas of equal rights, civil rights and the right to have our voices heard. I could hear his voice but I saw her eyes, those eyes that seemed capable of reproach as stinging as anything she could have written. “Must be tough to be married to her,” my Dad chuckled as we watched the news, adding “and I should know!”

In my life’s journey, I got a chance to dabble in the world of Canadian literature during my time working as the publishing director of the NHL. One year, we released TOTAL HOCKEY encyclopaedia and HOCKEY FOR DUMMIES, both of which rocketed up the charts of Canadian Non-Fiction Bestsellers. I got invited to a few events, rubbed leather-patched elbows with the literati, and learned, to my delight, that the loud tall organizer was the one married to the Queen of Canadian literature. And then paid a bit more attention whenever either would pop up in the news.

At some point, I began to wonder what it must have been like to be married to Margaret Atwood, Canada’s Nobel-winning writer. Especially given that Graeme was a writer himself. How did he manage to be both a fiery advocate and soulful supporter?

How do you dance through life with your partner without stepping on the toes of her Muses?

How do you dance through life with your partner without stepping on the toes of her Muses? How do you add and not take away from her work, being there in whatever capacity may be required? Do you interrupt to offer tea or just bring it?

This contemplative time was after my Dad had passed and during a momentary crisis in my personal life that saw me need to become a good first officer to my marital captain as she launched and developed a new business. There was a random news item from Buckingham Palace that reminded me of Phillip, and of George. And, in hindsight, it helped me to understand Graeme Gibson a little bit better, and myself in the process, too. Something about a species at risk that the Duke of Edinburgh’s conservation trust had managed to nurse back to health, all in and around the ‘annus horribilis’ suffered by Elizabeth and family.

***

So, how do you act as a consort to your partner?

The verbs in the motto of PEN Canada hold a clue:

CELEBRATE. DEFEND. AID.

In the case of Phillip of Greece, he certainly spent considerable time consoling and counselling his Queen as she underwent her travails. In the case of George of Glasgow, he’d put a pot of soup on and make sure that my Mom’s chair was ready for her return. For Graeme of London, I’m guessing that, during moments of crisis in his family, he would celebrate, defend and aid his Queen to the best of his capacities, and in a manner that given the longevity of their relationship, must have worked. Margaret Atwood didn’t get any less famous for her writing or less prodigious in her output.

Now, interestingly, much like Phillip and George, Graeme also became a conservationist and ecological admirer. In his case, Graeme Gibson was a key driver behind the creation of the Pelee Island Bird Sanctuary in Canada’s southernmost point, a near-urban natural oasis that now teems with avian life, migratory and sedentary. Graeme, like the other gentleman consorts mentioned herein, took to nature as a remedy to the noises and nuisances of city life, and perhaps to step away, if even for just a brief moment, from his duties to his Queen. The smallest bird became the biggest focal point. The nurturing, the tears and the triumphs all part of the process of grounding oneself while giving back.

And therein lies the secret, I believe, to how we humans can stop putting our needs first and become consorts to our Queen, Mother Nature.

***

Mining foreman R. Thornburg shows a small cage with a canary used for testing carbon monoxide gas in 1928. George McCaa, U.S. Bureau of Mines

In 1986, the last canary was released from service to the coal mines. In all likelihood, it was not one of Mrs. Rogerson’s Gloster Canaries, be they Corona or Consort. The Gloster Canary was specially bred for its attractiveness and appeal. The canaries that worked in the coal mines were of less exalted stock, albeit hardier than their swankier cousins.

The practice of using canaries to detect carbon monoxide in mining operations was pioneered in 1911 by Dr. John Haldane, who some describe as the ‘father of oxygen therapy’. There was solid science behind the idea, specifically:

Canaries, like other birds, are good early detectors of carbon monoxide because they’re vulnerable to airborne poisons, Inglis-Arkell writes. Because they need such immense quantities of oxygen to enable them to fly and fly to heights that would make people altitude sick, their anatomy allows them to get a dose of oxygen when they inhale and another when they exhale, by holding air in extra sacs, he writes. Relative to mice or other easily transportable animals that could have been carried in by the miners, they get a double dose of air and any poisons the air might contain, so miners would get an earlier warning.

The use of canaries as ‘early warning systems’ took root in British mining companies, and soon jumped the pond to influence North American coal miners. The canaries were not only prized by the miners for their life-saving abilities but were also welcomed for their songs. “They are so ingrained in the culture, miners report whistling to the birds and coaxing them as they worked, treating them as pets.”

The phrase ‘a canary in a coal mine’ came into popular use not long after the birds went to work. In the broadest sense, it means that something is an early warning sign of danger ahead. Al Gore applied the analogy to the concept of the extinction of species and the skyrocketing GhGs are canaries in a coal mine of an ecosystem in crisis, in this case the ecosystem that sustains human life. That ‘inconvenient truth’ that Gore was sharing helped to ignite a heightened degree of awareness of environmentalism within everyday society, and became some of the foundational learning of today’s young environmental leaders. The ones leading the research, organizing a blockade to protect the old growth forests, or running for office to affect positive legislative change.

They make these sacrifices for a greater good, beyond simply the preservation of a butterfly or bumble bee. They are sacrificing for the butterfly and the bumble bee, yes, but they do so in service to humanity, keeping a watchful eye on the hands on the Extinction Clock, readying to raise the alarm or scramble to save another last-of. Because, fundamentally, these scientists, researchers, academics and activists understand and appreciate a simple truth: humans are but one species among billions on this planet, equally (if not more) vulnerable to the changes wrought by anthropogenic climate change. Fires, floods and famines, oh my! And if it isn’t good for the canary, it can’t be good for us.

***

We humans, large in numbers but small in planetary significance, have played an outsized role in the destruction and degradation of the natural environment. And while we’ve always been a messy species, we’ve really taken it up a notch since the Industrial Revolution.

You can blame our fossil-fuel-burning machinery poisoning the atmosphere with greenhouse gasses, which contributed to raising the global temperature which eventually begat the mass extinction events that we’re now watching unspool in front of our eyes like a slow-motion train wreck. And given that we’re the most golden of the Goldilocks species, the most vulnerable to extremes and to change in a time of extreme change, we should probably be paying more attention and taking more actions.

Credit: Ed Himelblau, The New Yorker

Start by birdwatching. We are far too zoomed in on our own daily minutiae to appreciate the larger world around us, and the changes that threaten our very existence.

We need to turn the binoculars around and stop demanding that EVERYONE LOOK AT US! We need to become passionate observers of the planet’s beautifully complicated ecosystems, large and small, near and far. 

We need to turn the binoculars around and stop demanding that EVERYONE LOOK AT US! We need to become passionate observers of the planet’s beautifully complicated ecosystems, large and small, near and far. We need to watch the birds as they go about their daily lives. We need to listen to the birds as they call to each other, this song a love poem, this song an elegy. We need to learn about the birds, and from the birds, where they live and why. We need to go to where the birds are and to build welcoming spaces for the birds where we are. There is so much we need to know and an incredible urgency to do so.

We, as humans, need to understand and appreciate the fact that ‘we’re all in this together’ is more than a motto to survive the pandemic. It’s a reminder that we are in a codependent relationship with the natural world – and we humans are more dependent upon the planet than the planet is on humans. We will need all the birds and all the bees that we can to be our allies in our survival. It’s a reminder that we humans are now the canaries and we seem hellbent as a species toward our own self-destruction, going out of our way to poison our cages, our foodstocks and our futures. We must start our efforts by changing the climate of misanthropy; after all, a self-loathing human is a dangerous beast and threatens to take a lot of other species down with it.

Once we’ve come to terms with our horrible-for-nature impacts, once we’ve accepted our responsibilities for past sins of commission and omission, and once we’ve realized that this planet is not all about us, we can begin to take tentative first steps to repairing our relationship with nature. And, yes, we are in a committed relationship with nature but, contrary to our human beliefs, we are most definitely not the most important partner in that relationship. Hell, our partner did pretty well before meeting us and will most certainly do just fine once we’ve departed. And we will depart sooner rather than later on our current trajectory, or more correctly we will be thrown out by an exasperated partner tired of waiting for us to change our ways and be a significantly more loving and more respectful significant other.

We have prioritized us and only us, at the expense of all others. We have blashemphed our inheritance and sullied our home. We have put our needs first, especially recently as the science became clearer while hurdles were thrown in the path of progress-seekers. Rather than acting in a manner that CELEBRATED, DEFENDED and AIDED our Queen in our role as consorts to nature, too many of us have DEGRADED, DESTROYED and EXPLOITED nature for our own benefit or for the benefit of societies that prioritize profits over people. The canaries have already given their lives for us and yet, still, we remain obtuse to the creeping gasses ready to suffocate our lives.

But as in all relationships, there is a chance to change our ways, although we might be on chance Nth by now. Our partner is very forgiving.

For far too long, humanity has demanded a subservience from nature. Some of our holiest books sanction our desecration in the name of the divine (and to the benefit of the few and the detriment of the most). We are the Lords, we are told, and we can bend Nature to meet our needs. But we are not Lords. We are simply a subspecies of simians that somehow managed to find a niche in time to proclaim our preeminence. We build edifices to and from our egos to ourselves and our perceived greatness. We’ll chop down giant, majestic trees to make the paper to make our words immortal, or until the next fire comes along. We use, we exploit, we degrade and we disrespect. Not all of us, and certainly not among the youngest of us, who seem to comprehend the severity of the bill of consequences that they’ll be paying for their ancestor’s transgressions against the environment. And I guess this message is specifically geared towards them.

It will not be easy to navigate your way forward in this new age of Mother Nature pushing back and standing up for herself. The ripples caused by the rising GhGs are well nigh ashore in our present world, manifesting as extreme everything. And these ripples will likely become tsunamis before the worst has passed.

What can we do? many may be asking. May I suggest an edit to How can we help? How can we become a consort to nature, a helpmate in the day to day and a warrior when called upon to fight on our partner’s behalf? We could do worse than look to the examples set by Phillip of Greece, George of Glasgow and Graeme of London.

In the introduction to his seminal book, The Bedside Book of Birds – An Avian Miscellany, Graeme Gibson wrote:

“With the zeal of a convert and the instigated imagination of an ex-novelist, I started taking note of, then collecting, and finally obsessively searching out texts that illustrated something — almost anything — about our human response to birds. This book is the result. It isn’t so much about birds themselves as it is about the richly varied relationships we have established with them during the hundreds of thousands of years that we and they have shared life on earth.”

How will we become the types of humans who deserve to share in a future with such a luminary partner? May I suggest a nature consort’s vow:

CELEBRATE NATURE. DEFEND NATURE. AID NATURE.

Until death do us part.

LEARN MORE AND DO MORE

How do we become better partners and better consorts for nature? Well, there are many steps that you can take and many great organizations doing work in your backyard that can help you gain a deeper understanding and appreciation for the role of nature in your life. Nature Canada, for example, works to help Canadians understand how to be better consorts to nature:

We believe that when the heart is engaged, the mind and body will follow. That is why, since our founding in 1939, Nature Canada has been connecting Canadians to nature, trying to instill in them a nature ethic – a respect for nature, an appreciation for its wonders, and the will to act in nature’s defense.

They’ve got many great programs, and one that would have definitely interested my Dad (and was a topic near to the hearts of Prince Phillip and Graeme Gibson) is birds in urban environments, the dangers that our cities present to our avian friends, and the steps being taken (or should be taken) to minimize the human impact on birds, and nature in general. Nature Canada’s Bird Friendly Cities program seeks to address the devastating impacts of our built structures on the avian ecosystem, and was launched because in “the last 50 years, North American bird populations have dropped by more than 25%.”

Thank you for reading our FOR THE LOVE OF NATURE series, be sure to check out the other articles as well!

And don’t forget to register for Nature Canada’s Pimlott Award Celebration happening this Wednesday on March 2, 2022, where Margaret Atwood and the late Graeme Gibson will be honoured and recognized as champions for birds and nature. Check it out here!

The post Consorting with Nature appeared first on A\J.

Above is an excerpt from an article called “A Being in Nature” that I wrote for A\J about a year ago when I was working as a full-time co-op student. I so clearly remember the day I wrote it. It was a busy work day, online and remote, and I was feeling overwhelmed with stress, screen-fatigue, winter blues, and eco-anxiety. When I ventured outside and heard the call of the mourning dove in my backyard, all the negatives of the day melted away, and it was just me and the bird. 

Birds have a special relationship with us. Graeme Gibson knew that and taught many of us about this bond through his life’s work of writing about birds and dedicating his time to bird conservation. Margaret Atwood, partner to Graeme, has, of course, been very active in both circles of Canadian literature and bird conservation as well. Together, they are the perfect, poetic pair of bird-loving writers and conservationists. 

As Grant Munroe wrote for The Walrus, “Other famous literary couples have shared pastimes—Vladimir Nabokov collected butterflies to the delight of his wife, Vera; Sylvia Plath took up beekeeping with Ted Hughes—but few have been as well-paired for the activism that often attends birdwatching: Atwood’s interest, which seems cooler and slightly ironic, tempers Gibson’s gregarious fanaticism. Rather than rail against cat owners, as some do, they have adopted a balanced collaborative angle: driven yet compassionate, cut with humour, grounded in science, effected through appeals to emotion and intellect.” 

Atwood and Gibson achieved huge bird conservation wins in their life together. The pair played an important role in founding the Pelee Island Bird Observatory in 2003, and consistently worked to support and bring attention to the organization whenever possible. In 2005, Gibson released his now most famous novel, The Bedside Book of Birds: An Avian Miscellany, all about bird life and behaviour, history and mythology, photographs, art, and stories. Graeme and Margaret were also co-presidents of BirdLife International’s Rare Bird Club.

As you may have already guessed, Graeme’s impact was far-reaching as he was known as a champion of birds across several environmental organizations. It seems as though wherever there were bird conservation campaigns happening in Ontario, the names Gibson and Atwood were involved. Nature Canada is one such organization that has put forward several bird conservation campaigns, including the Save Bird Lives campaign, which Graeme and Margaret were driving forces behind and that helped to inspire Atwood’s graphic novel series Angel Catbird. 

Another Nature Canada bird campaign that has gained a lot of support and traction is the Bird Friendly City Certification Program. This program gives municipalities the opportunity to reduce bird threats in their cities, restore and enhance bird habitats, and provide public outreach and education through citizen engagement. In 2021, Nature Canada certified the following 4 Canadian cities in Ontario: London, ON; Toronto, ON; Vancouver, BC; and Calgary, AB. The vision of this program is that certified “bird-friendly” areas will grow and the Canada’s cities and towns will provide the necessary habitats for birds to not only find refuge during migration periods but also thrive.

“In the last 50 years, we’ve lost three billion birds in North America — 25% of the population — gone. Beloved species that live in or pass through our towns and cities, our fields and forests, have been pushed to the brink. At Nature Canada, we’re organising the effort to bring them back with organised, science-backed action.” – Ted Cheskey, Naturalist Director of Nature Canada

To learn more about this program and the work Nature Canada is doing to protect bird species in urban and suburban spaces, explore here.

Graeme and Margaret were supportive and involved in the work Nature Canada has done over the past several decades, and now, in 2022, Nature Canada’s highest honour – the Douglas H. Pimlott Award – is being awarded to both Margaret Atwood and Graeme Gibson.

Douglas H. Pimlott, sometimes known as the founder of the Canadian environmental movement, was a key environmental leader in conservation, wildlife biology, and ecology work. He paved the way for Canadian environmental protection and made huge contributions to environmentalism in his lifetime. His award suitably honours individuals who have made similarly outstanding achievements and contributions to conservation in Canada. 

On March 2, 2022, at Nature Canada’s Pimlott Award Celebration Margaret Atwood and the late Graeme Gibson will be honoured and recognized as champions for birds and nature. The event will feature Graeme and Margaret’s literary and bird conservation achievements, and their legacy that will live on to inspire the next generations to follow in their footsteps. There will be featured guests and speakers, and registration is free of charge, although there are limited spots. Will you choose to be a part of this story? A story of hope – for the world that future generations are inheriting, for the natural world, for the birds.

Graeme had a compassionate soul, showing kindness to the people he worked with and the birds he worked for. He will be missed and remembered by many. Now, it’s our job to take his wisdom, inspiration, and passion for birds, nature conservation, and literature and move forward into 2022 and beyond. It’s our job to listen for our mourning dove call and let it move us.

***

“By stepping outside, not only are you getting a good dose of fresh oxygen, serotonin, vitamin D, and maybe a pretty sunset out of it – you’re reconnecting with the earth. The ground you’re walking on. The plants and animals that you coexist with. The little delights that live and thrive and breathe and walk and live all around you. And if we keep connecting with these things, I hope we will feel a little bit more grounded in our own backyards, realizing that we’re part of nature and we can take care of it in the footsteps of people who have done so for many generations. We can get to know the names of the species around us, the bird calls, the texture of the grass outside, the smell of the soil in our gardens. These details are important – they are vital to upholding the connection we have to the Earth. And we will be able to fight for this planet and remedy our eco-anxiety if we keep tending to the relationship we have with nature.”

Stay tuned for next week’s FOR THE LOVE OF NATURE article on Gibson and Atwood’s love – for birds, for nature, and for each other.

For a more comprehensive list of Graeme’s achievements and Margaret’s tribute to him, follow the links below:

• The Pelee Island Bird Observatory – In Memoriam
• Remembering Graeme

The post Seeding the Spotlight appeared first on A\J.

The space where art and environmentalism collide is a space where hearts become inspired. In the art project titled 1,000 Flyers, anyone can participate and add a contribution to the art piece, giving an opportunity for others to learn and become aware of an important environmental issue, while having a personal and meaningful interactive experience. 

“1,000 Flyers is an ongoing participatory eco-art project drawing attention to threats to bird populations worldwide. There are currently over 1,400 bird species at risk of extinction globally, and this project honours and memorializes them through the intentional folding of paper cranes for each of these species,” shared Jessica Marion Barr, the founder of this project, who notes that the number of species has increased by more than 100 since the project was started nine years ago.

“There are currently over 1,400 bird species at risk of extinction globally, and this project honours and memorializes them through the intentional folding of paper cranes for each of these species,”

“Participants are asked to select an at-risk bird species from a list provided by the artist and then, in the spirit of the Japanese tradition of senbazuru (the folding of 1,000 paper cranes to aid in the healing of someone who is ill), to fold an origami crane as a prayer for the healing and survival of this species,” Barr explained.

1,000 Flyers at the Urban Forests & Political Ecologies Conference, Hart House, Toronto (2013). Credit: Vincent Luk

“The title of the project is a play on words – ‘flyers’ refers to the birds as well as to the material from which we make the origami; instead of traditional origami paper, we use junk mail – the flyers that appear unbidden on our doorsteps, and whose existence speaks to the threats to bird and other living populations worldwide: consumerism, factory farming, deforestation, pollution, and on and on.”

1,000 Flyers at the Urban Forests & Political Ecologies Conference, Hart House, Toronto (2013). Credit: Vincent Luk

Not only is the message of the art environmentally conscious, but the material that it is made of contributes to the same message. Upcycled paper is a more sustainable option that also, as Barr explained, comments on the nature of consumer culture, tying in the awareness of the threats of the birds as an integrated part of the art itself.

“Participants label their creations with their chosen species’ name and then add them to the growing ‘flock’ of 1,000 Flyers. When the project is complete and all threatened species on the list (from the IUCN Red List of Endangered Species, see www.iucnredlist.org/) have been commemorated, the piece will be displayed as a unified installation, hopefully outdoors in a tree, tying the project literally and metaphorically to existing bird habitat.”

1,000 Flyers installation at Lady Eaton College, Trent University, 2020. Credit: Alyssa Diatel

The most recent participatory installation of 1,000 Flyers occurred in March 2020 just prior to pandemic lockdowns, at Trent University’s Lady Eaton College, where the project was hosted as a part of the college’s annual Marjory Seeley Women in Leadership event. However, as an ongoing and interactive project, participants are always welcome to contribute and pay their own respects to this growing memorial for endangered birds. 

1,000 Flyers at the Urban Forests & Political Ecologies Conference, Hart House, Toronto (2013). Credit: Vincent Luk

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Growing up, like most kids, I liked fantasy/adventure series – like Narnia, Harry Potter, and The Lord of the Rings – and I read some of those books back then. But as I grew up, I became less interested in this genre and preferred to read more realistic stories. However, lately, I’ve been craving adventure and I’ve felt drawn to reading about these magical worlds again more than ever.

The pandemic has had me cooped up in my home for quite some time now. I don’t have my own car (not like there is anywhere I am allowed to go if I did), so the majority of the time when I want to get outside, I am restricted to a distance equal to as far as my legs can take me. As a result, I’ve been walking around my neighbourhood… a lot. Trust me, I’ve become so acquainted with the surrounding streets that I could walk them blindfolded. Although I appreciate all the moments I can spend outside, and being within walking distance to parks and green spaces is a privilege, I long for the excitement of travelling to new places, exploring natural areas, and having adventures. Since I can’t do that these days, I have started journeying to fictional places in my mind as much as I can through reading.

Source: Masterclass 

My fantasy novel reading kick started this year in 2021 because, after one year of the pandemic, I was feeling more antsy than ever. Like I said, I grew up liking adventure series, but they have a whole new effect on me these days. They provide a window into a new world, full of gripping adventures, in a time where we physically can’t do any of that in our own reality. 

More and more I’ve been feeling like Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit – comfortable in my house and neighbourhood but feeling like there is a part of me aching for something more, for adventure. And sadly, a wizard is not going to come to my house and send me off on a journey, so it’s up to me to push myself out the door (metaphorically) and enter the fictional worlds that exist on my bookshelf. 

I typically read contemporary fiction and literature because I like realistic stories that can offer me insights into my own life and the real world. I always viewed fantasy as more of an escape from reality – just something fun to read to forget about real life and be immersed in a new, magical world. But the more I read fantasy novels, the more I realize that these stories might actually be helping me cope with my own changing, unpredictable world rather than distracting me from it. Sure, they sometimes provide oversimplified, utopian-esque reflections of life, but I genuinely think this literary genre can provide tools and insights that can aid us in the environmental movement. 

Inspiration for Fighting Our Battles

The courage that these fictional characters display can inspire us in our own stories.

First of all, the characters in these novels overcome great feats – and also small feats, too. They fight in battles, learn skills from their mentors, travel on long journeys, face harsh climates, and do all sorts of other “adventure trope” things, generally to save their world from evil. But their feats are not entirely unlike the ones we face in our world. The courage that these fictional characters display can inspire us in our own stories. Besides the fact that our world does not have fire-breathing dragons, centaurs, elves, and other magical beings, our world is not so different from many of the fictional worlds we can read about. Sometimes it just takes a closer look to see the similarities.

Source: The Almighty Guru

I put a Lord of the Rings quote in one of my other articles to emphasize the courage that we, as environmentalists, will need on the long road to fighting for a better world, and I’m putting another one in this article. Maybe it’s LOTR overkill, but the story of Frodo and the ring has so many relevant quotes that can give inspiration to environmental and social justice activists, and particularly youth, who feel the weight of the world on their shoulders. It’s not easy to face these issues every day, but we continue to fight every day nonetheless. Looking to fantasy stories for inspiration and courage would likely benefit all of us who find ourselves feeling the ever-present weight and discouragement of the state of the world.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

Connecting with the Natural World

A lot of fantasy novels take place in the outdoors and the characters often get intertwined with the elements of nature. The setting of these stories, often being in very natural places, provide a lot of natural imagery and a mystical quality to nature, which the characters experience in awe, curiosity, and wonder. The natural aesthetic of these worlds can evoke in us a greater appreciation for nature. Keep in mind – the nature in these books is not altogether fictional… it’s based on the nature of our own world, just in combination with a bit of imagination.

But many fantasy stories also include the force of nature and the environment almost as a character itself. In the book, The Name of the Wind, only the most skilled individuals in the story who study the wind know the name of it, which basically means they can call on it with their minds and control it. The point is, the wind – and also other elements, like iron or stone – are great forces that come alive and become vital pieces to the story, almost like characters. The human characters are very intertwined with their natural world – just as we are with ours.

Source: Alicia Ochoa via Art Station

Rediscovering the Magic of the World

Although reading about these magical worlds can still be a form of escapism for many, these stories can also help us rediscover the magic within the real world. I know what you might be thinking – there is no magic in our world. Well, there is definitely a magical essence of nature. Nature is full of life, energy, and beauty – and it’s so complex. Humans have probably only scratched the surface of understanding the planet and the nature around us, but being in nature is far more than understanding – it’s also feeling and experiencing, which goes beyond merely thinking about it. 

When I go into nature, I feel at peace and inspired. When I travel to a new place and experience a whole new ecosystem, I feel shocked and amazed. When I see fireflies, starry skies, colourful sunsets, beautiful birds, the list goes on and on, I feel a way that I imagine magic would make me feel – in awe. There is so much in nature to appreciate, feel, and draw energy from, and I think it’s worth rediscovering the magic in our own world to feel more connected to nature and more motivated to better protect it.

Overall, I have a much greater appreciation for this literary genre than I did before the pandemic. Now that I’ve given it more of a chance without making presumptions about it, like that it would be childish or too “far-fetched” or irrelevant to my own life, I’ve come to realize that many of these books are none of those things. They are simply a look into another world that we can experience, find delight in, and also learn and draw inspiration from. The magic of our world is all around you and maybe picking up a fantasy or adventure book will help you rediscover it.

The post Open to Rediscover the Magic in our World? appeared first on A\J.

I’ve been told that there are two main pathways that I could take as the next step in my career: further education or entering the work force in some capacity. Typically, further education is the path to take if 1) I feel like I need more skills and knowledge for the work force, 2) I just want to keep learning, or 3) I want to do my own research. But I never thought of furthering my education to be able to express myself and be who I want to be. That is, not until I had a conversation with Dean Alice Hovorka.

Dean Hovorka’s experience as a seasoned academic who so strongly followed her passions throughout her career serves as a wonderful example of a heart story born out of the pursuit of further education. Her story is one that shows how academia has the potential to be a space where you can be who you are and who you want to be. 

“I’ve been lucky enough as an academic to find a job in a sector of higher education that allows me to be who I want to be. That is a rare thing in the job market,” Hovorka shared. “As an academic, I have been able to work with students in the way that I want to work with them. No one has told me what to study. No one has told me what I must be teaching or how I must be teaching it. And now that I’m the Dean of the Faculty [of Environmental and Urban Change] at York, what I love about this role is being of service. Being a champion for students, faculty and staff, who want to make a difference in the world.”

And Dean Hovorka is just that – a champion. She is so dedicated to helping others succeed in following their passions because she herself has done just that in her career. One topic of research that she focuses on is the relationships between humans and other animals. She started a group called The Lives of Animals Research Group that originated from passion translating into academia, and I asked her what the story was behind its creation.

“I sort of think of my academic career in two different phases. The first phase, I had nothing to do with animals whatsoever. I was doing a lot of work on gender issues, gender politics and relations of power, and I was doing my work in urban, sub-Saharan Africa. A lot of my work for my PhD was in Botswana, in Gaborone. At the time, I was very interested in urban agriculture. So, I was documenting how men and women farmed differently in the city, and I thought I was going to be finding maize and beans and fruit trees – no, it was all chickens. I went ahead, wrote my dissertation, and for about 10 years, I was known for doing work on gender, urbanization, and everyday life kind of issues. 

“At a certain point, I’d gone back to Gaborone for a visit, about 8 years into doing this work. I was driving around and I had this random thought. I was driving past all these poultry farms, I was seeing chickens everywhere, and I was like, ‘the city would look different if the chickens weren’t here.’ At the same time, I had been reading some work about the exploitation of animals and I remember, I started to cry. I was reading an academic text and I’m starting to cry, so you know there’s something wrong. I realized I had completely missed the animals. I had been walking through abattoirs where chickens were getting slaughtered, I was walking through poultry farms with 30,000 birds in them – never noticed the animals. I mean, I noticed them, but I never really appreciated that they were a social group in the city as much as people were. That’s how I got inspired. 

Source: Lives of Animals Research Group

“So, I took my PhD work and instead of focusing on men and women, I turned it around and focused on chickens. The reactions I had from folks in academia in this part of the world was, ‘Why would you focus on animals? There are people who matter more.’ But when I talked to my colleagues at the University of Botswana, they were like, ‘You should totally do that. We really believe that the animals are number one.’ I started to get a lot of confidence from my Botswana colleagues to pursue this and I kind of never left. I’ve been doing this work for about 12 years now. I started the research group because I wanted to bring together a team of students to help me think through all these issues. It was largely in Botswana at the start, and now it has stretched into Canada and Costa Rica. We’re so intertwined with animals, we don’t even recognize it – and we are animals, that’s the other piece.”

Dean Hovorka has used her academic career to spotlight the role of animals in our societies and really pour her compassion into her work. Similarly, with her work on gender issues and urbanization, she always advocates for intersectional environmentalism – including the injustices between men and women and humans and other animals – which is vital to effectively tackling the climate crisis today.

“If you have inequities and injustices between men and women, you’re never going to have sustainability. It’s the same with the animals.”

“If you think about this new faculty – the Faculty of Environmental and Urban Change – one of the reasons I wanted to be here at York with this group of people is that they’re not just looking at sustainability, they’re looking at justice as a means to get sustainability. To me, that totally makes sense. If you have inequities and injustices between men and women, you’re never going to have sustainability. It’s the same with the animals. If you treat other beings in the way that we are treating other beings, we’re never going to be sustainable because not only are you abusing nature, i.e. animals, you’re also undermining everything you need to feed yourself, to have clean air, clean water, fertile soil, a climate that doesn’t change at such a rapid rate.

“I’ve been around long enough now that I’ve seen us go from the actual concept of sustainability being brought forward in 1987, the ideas of a climate change issue, and how long it’s taken us to actually talk about climate change such that we’re recognizing it’s a climate crisis. When I think about the work we have to do to understand biodiversity matters, in that we are not just messing up with the climate, we’re messing up soil, plants, animals, water, air… How do we move ourselves faster through that learning curve? Even this pandemic – itself rooted in an environmental crisis first and foremost, and our relationships with animals, hands down. What it has brought forth is we’re now talking about green recovery. We managed to somehow engrain that we’re in a climate crisis, the pandemic hits, and now we’re bringing the climate crisis back as part of our recovery. So, part of this has been generating momentum, but I feel like we’re in a good place to really draw some energy from the breadth of understanding of what sustainability means.”

To read the rest of this conversation, stay tuned for our upcoming issue, Playbook for Progress. In this issue, Dean Hovorka shares her best advice for new grads on how to take that first step into further education – how to succeed, stay motivated, and sustain the journey while maintaining your core purpose and vision. You won’t want to miss it!

Alice Hovorka is the Dean of the Faculty of Environmental and Urban Change at York University. She is an accomplished academic, holding both Master’s and PhD degrees in geography; her research focuses on urban agriculture, gender and power politics, and human-animal relations. Dean Hovorka is a strong advocate for the imperative link between sustainability and justice not only in scholarship but all facets of life.

The post Journeying Farther appeared first on A\J.

We can see this complexity playing out in the way wolves in some regions are caught in the paradox of adapting to anthropocentric change while contributing to the demise of caribou herds, at risk of extinction in multiple jurisdictions throughout Canada and the United States. In response, the B.C. government has expanded wolf culls as a way of managing growing threats of extinction while negating responsibility for addressing the deeper issues behind alarming rates of wildlife habitat loss in these same jurisdictions. Both criticized and upheld as an imperfect solution, wolf culls are in fact not a new practice and part of a well-worn colonial management approach that harkens back to its first appearance on this continent in 1630 in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

Almost 400 years later, what has changed? Amid growing concerns from scientists, First Nations, ranchers, conservationists, hunters, animal rights activists and citizens on all sides of the debate, governments continue to overwhelmingly reach toward this expensive and controversial management approach for a solution to the threat of extinction. Have we stopped to consider the value placed on holding some creatures in the world and not others? In a recent in-depth report, journalist Sarah Cox revealed the B.C. government spent upwards of $2 million last winter on initiatives to kill 432 wolves, the most expensive of which was in the Kootenay region where, according to the B.C. Ministry of Forests, Lands, Natural Resources and Rural Development, they spent $100,000 to kill 10 wolves. Perhaps we need to step back from the zero-sum game of ‘yes versus no’ to think more deeply about who bears the true cost of turning away from the deeper issues behind our current crisis of wildlife extinction? More importantly, what we are willing to do about it as a society?

What often gets missed in the perpetual loop of applying wolf culls as so-called short-term solutions, is the long story of failed policy mechanisms that were supposed to prevent us from getting here in the first place. One of these is the North American Model of Wildlife Conservation (NAM), which positions wildlife as a resource to be managed on behalf of what is referred to as the public trust. Whose voices are taken seriously as constituting members of the public trust is a question that needs greater attention? Who do governments manage wildlife for and who gets consulted in the process?

Figure 1: Wolf track in snow. Photo taken during carnivore surveys, Salmo, B.C., Selkirk mountains. January, 2017. Credit: Rhiannon Kirton

While competition between caribou and other cervids (e.g., moose or deer) can lead to increased caribou predation by wolves, this is simply the most recent proximate cause of declines. Historically, caribou decline has been attributed not only to predation as a result of habitat augmentation and apparent competition, but also to high levels of legal and illegal harvest in the 1960s and 70s and adverse weather, amongst other factors (Environment Canada). While predator and moose reductions have been shown to increase caribou numbers in the short term, at best they have been shown to be a band aid solution versus a viable long-term strategy for success. As awareness of the ultimate driver of dangerous levels of caribou decline grows, there is an increasing recognition of the central issue being one of habitat loss, by those both for and against the wolf cull (Fig 1; Bridger, 2019). Although conservation and other advocacy groups continue to push for protection of old growth caribou habitat, the question of why government decision makers continue to drag their heels along such an ineffectual path gets harder to ignore. Why continue to allow habitats to be degraded and logged at the expense of both caribou and wolves? Whose voices do governments prioritize in the process of continued failure to protect caribou habitat? (Palm et al., 2020; MCRI, 2009). Is failing to do so a breach of NAM’s principle of acting on behalf of the public trust? What, if any, mechanisms exist to hold those in power accountable?  

Figure 2: Caribou habitat. South Selkirk mountain range close to White Water Ski. Resort photo taken during aerial caribou survey. February 2017. Credit: Rhiannon Kirton

NAM denotes a public ownership of wildlife resources which “is held in trust for the benefit of present and future generations by government”, although in real terms, this public often is rarely inclusive of First Nations and Native American peoples, a problem unto itself that we cannot do justice here (Eichler and Baumeister, 2018). The prospect of such entitlement being translated into a meaningful, productive public stewardship is uncertain, given “governance model for wildlife conservation decision making is typically at the (elected) ministerial level”, while boards and commissions exert limited impact. Despite governments admitting the need to modify the model for a greater participatory decision making, the caribou case manifests minimal progress in this respect. Unfortunately, caribou being federally listed as a Species At Risk in Canada has not translated into provincial habitat protection outside of federally owned lands. Why? Part of the reason is that voices of those outside of the decision-making structure might not only be ignored, but also be rendered silent. What does it say about our society in a time of ecological crisis to prioritize industry stakeholders above the value of a functioning ecosystem, which contains intact guilds of predators and ungulates alike? How, why and on whose terms is this discrepancy allowed to continue? 

In discussing the future of the North American Model (NAM), this statement is overwhelmingly instrumentalist: “the maintenance and fostering of landscapes that can sustain viable populations of all wildlife to ensure conservation of biodiversity and human use and enjoyment are of paramount concern”.  Among recommendations of applying and upgrading the model, citizen engagement in the conservation of biodiversity is stressed with grand and empty guidance. Why bend the goal of wildlife conservation to benefit industry stakeholders for short-term economic gain, if doing so erodes understandings of, and possibilities for, biodiversity as an integral component for our collective survival and prosperity? Given everything we now know about the importance of biodiversity in maintaining a healthy and sustainable world, shouldn’t we be promoting interdependency and reciprocity with nature as ultimate goals in public policy, for example, NAM’s wildlife management policy frameworks and application? The model does not need to stress the paramount importance of “the maintenance and fostering landscapes that can sustain viable populations of all wildlife to ensure conservation of biodiversity” and “human use and enjoyment”, because once the former is secured, it enables the latter. There do not exist two natural worlds, an abstract one that is servile to profit-driven human needs and a real one with lives we’ve never been familiar with. The problem of the model, nevertheless, further entrenches a rupture between humans and nature.

Figure 3: Wolf tracks. Simonette River, Municipal District of Greenview, AB. August 2020. Credit: Narda Nelson.

At such a precarious juncture for many creatures and habitats on the brink of extinction, can the story of contemporary wolves be rewritten beyond polarizing figures of either hero or villain? More than simply an inflammatory topic of debate, wolf culls point to the deeper problem of a collective refusal to step back from polarizing debates to better understand and take responsibility for contributing to the very issues that define these challenging times. To restore and safeguard the ecosystems that our existence depends on, it seems increasingly obvious that we should look to Indigenous peoples who have successfully protected the land for millennia. Perhaps the NAM’s failing is in its application and exclusion of Indigenous voices and the centering of colonial forms of management. There are varied approaches and opinions regarding wolf culls within First Nations across Turtle Island. Some, like the Saulteau and West Moberly First Nations, are already succeeding in holding caribou populations in the world where governments have failed.  Perhaps it’s time to seriously reconsider alternatives to continuing to implement the NAM and instead follow their lead.

This article is part of our March 2021 Western Student Editorial Series – a series that showcases the works of students in the Collaborative Specialization in Environment and Sustainability program. Read more articles from this series here!

References

Brook, R.K., Cattet, M., Darimont, C.T., Paquet, P.C., & Proulx, G. (2015). Maintaining ethical standards during conservation crises. Canadian Wildlife Biology and Management (4), 72-79.

Lavoie, J. (2018, April 5). Seeking the Science Behind B.C.’s Wolf Cull. The Narwhal. https://thenarwhal.ca/seeking-science-behind-b-c-s-wolf-cull/ 

Mountain Caribou Recovery Implementation Plan. (2009) http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/wld/speciesconservation/mc/files/progress_board_update20090213.pdf  

Palm, E. C., Fluker, S., Nesbitt, H. K., Jacob, A. L., & Hebblewhite, M. (2020). The long road to protecting critical habitat for species at risk: The case of southern mountain woodland caribou. Conservation Science and Practice, 2(7), e219.

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Over the past week or so, my world has been very high-energy, productive, and busy, busy, busy! I have been maximizing my time at A\J by writing, thinking, creating, editing, and giving as much of myself to my work as I can – not only because I have obligations, but because I love it! I am someone who thrives on busyness. I want to have my foot in every door and I want to check off every box on the to-do list – these things energize me and move me forward. But recently, I came to a point, after a lot of constant creative output, where I was left with a mental block. I sat down to write this article, which was going to be about how nature relieves eco-anxiety (we’ll get to that later), and I could not think of anything to write. I had zero ideas, and when I dipped into my creative pool, it was dry. 

My brain felt like an internet browser with 25 tabs open, tons of information whizzing around, and all the softwares working at once – and it was starting to get slower and slower, lagging and loading… loading… loading … I actually did have tons of tabs open on my computer and its functionality was diminishing. My screen was exhausted and my eyes were sore from staring at it; I literally felt connected to my computer. So, when I finished work the other day, I closed all the tabs, shut down my computer, and walked away from it. And funny enough, I was unintentionally doing the same thing to my brain – disconnecting and unplugging.

After finishing up my work for the day, I decided to go for a walk around the block. It was around 6pm, so the sun was no longer in the sky, but the light of day remained and blanketed the world in a golden hue. I stepped outside, took a deep breath of fresh air, and the first thing I heard was the call of a mourning dove. It instantly calmed me. I heard its familiar call and it had a very real, very immediate effect on me. For a moment, the only thing occupying my brain was the sound of another living being. It was as if all the other thoughts that usually have intense bumper car competitions in my mind were temporarily wiped away – the bumper car ride at the amusement park was closed for maintenance and it was finally quiet. 

I walked a little farther down the street, then stopped for a moment by a giant pine tree. A little identification trick that I learned in school popped into my mind, so I picked up a fallen needle and tried bending it between my fingers – snap! It broke in half, indicating that it was a red pine. Then, I heard tiny chitter-chatter noises coming from squirrels in the trees as they sat exchanging their latest news to one another. I also heard another unknown bird – chip! chip! chip! And then I heard the whirr of bikes as a few people sped past me, and I decided to keep walking before I looked weirder than I already did, standing alone on the sidewalk, looking at squirrels. 

I turned around a corner onto another street and was boldly met with the sky – bright, royal blue fading into deep, golden orange on the horizon. No clouds were in the sky, which made the colours even more striking. All of the sudden, after stepping outside and noticing a few mere suburban elements of nature, I realized I felt inspired again. I had been giving so much of myself in my life and work that there was not enough left for me to draw inspiration from. It was time for me to refill myself, so I could once again have the capacity to give and share again, and being in nature was what allowed me to do so. 

I have often turned to nature for inspiration and healing when I feel empty or distant from my own self. I stop looking at the screens that so often dictate my every move. I get away from the obligations, the voices, the lists. And I go outside. I listen and look closely, paying attention to minute details. I clear my brain of the constant reel of information and thoughts that run through each day, and start making room for new thoughts that are meaningful, that spark inspiration, and that allow me to reconnect with my physical surroundings. These types of thoughts can come in when I stop thinking about all the how’s, why’s, when’s, and where’s of my day. I had been pondering how I was going to write this article for a couple of weeks, then in one moment, it all came to me – just from going for a walk and intentionally NOT thinking about it. 

Tiny fungi rainbows // Credit: Siobhan Mullally

Nature as a Remedy for Eco-anxiety 

I have found that there are a great many things to befriend in nature that can heal, inspire, and give us peace in our lives. It’s quite known these days that nature greatly benefits mental health. There have been many studies that show how interacting with nature can be therapeutic and calming, and help relieve stress, anxiety, and depression. Even bringing nature indoors by listening to recorded nature sounds or having images of natural spaces in our homes can help improve our moods. So, we know that nature is beneficial for a healthy mind, but what if the state of nature is the core reason for mental negativity?

As a young person today, a main source of anxiety for me is the state of the world. I’m sure many others are with me on this who experience this eco-anxiety on the daily. The world is on fire, species are dying, our natural world is becoming trashed and artificial, but greed seems to win the fight every time. The people fighting for a better world are exhausted and the young people inheriting it are terrified (and most of the time these two groups consist of the same people). This isn’t the kind of stress or anxiety that goes away after finishing a project at work, submitting a final assignment, or giving a major presentation. It’s a constant, looming anxiety that will never go away because it is about holding the world together. 

The people fighting for a better world are exhausted and the young people inheriting it are terrified (and most of the time these two groups consist of the same people).

Imagine the world is a giant broken vase. Some people are actively contributing to the breaking, and some people have no active role in either the breaking or fixing, but the rest of us are all working together to hold the pieces in place and fill in the cracks where we can. Older generations are starting to let go of the pieces, passing them onto younger generations, but the pieces are breaking more than ever, so young people are having to use both hands. They can’t let go or it will fall apart. But wait! My nose is itchy and I can’t scratch it; I can’t take my hands off because I have a duty to hold this world together. I must ignore my own natural, normal needs (i.e. my hopes and dreams of pursuing my life goals, having a full career, starting a family, having a functional planet to live in, etc) to keep it from falling apart. Eco-anxiety is fully real.

Climate Strike at the University of Waterloo // Credit: Siobhan Mullally

As young people who deal with eco-anxiety, we need to be taking breaks from work and screens to be in nature to help sustain our mental health. By being in nature, we can reconnect with it, feel like we are a part of it, rediscover our innate thirst for the beauty of the natural world and our dependence on it, feel it in our own hands, and be grounded in it. Nature’s great peril is what drives eco-anxiety, so it makes sense that nurturing our relationship with the Earth by physically being with it can help aid this.

Connecting with nature can look like a lot of different things: growing plants in your garden, digging your hands into the soil, going to a local forest and feeling the bark of the trees, learning the names of the birds in your backyard, laying on the grass and watching the clouds, or even simply noticing living things that you might not have noticed before, like lichens, fungi, and moss. I think all of these small actions can help alleviate greater anxieties about the world. It’s about bringing your mind from the global picture and scaling it down to the hyper-local microclimate where you physically stand, honing in on the small details. I believe that we may be more able to continue advocating for a better world in a global sense if we devote time and energy to connecting with the natural world around us on a more intimate level.

A closer look at a Citrus Flatid Planthopper (Metcalfa pruinosa) // Credit: Siobhan Mullally

By stepping outside, not only are you getting a good dose of fresh oxygen, serotonin, vitamin D, and maybe a pretty sunset out of it – you’re reconnecting with the earth. The ground you’re walking on. The plants and animals that you coexist with. The little delights that live and thrive and breathe and walk and live all around you. And if we keep connecting with these things, I hope we will feel a little bit more grounded in our own backyards, realizing that we’re part of nature and we can take care of it in the footsteps of people who have done so for many generations. We can get to know the names of the species around us, the bird calls, the texture of the grass outside, the smell of the soil in our gardens. These details are important – they are vital to upholding the connection we have to the Earth. And we will be able to fight for this planet and remedy our eco-anxiety if we keep tending to the relationship we have with nature.

All you have to do is shut down your internet browser brain, close all the tabs, and let it rest. Shut down the cranial bumper cars for maintenance. Embrace the quiet in your mind to feel inspired and rejuvenated. Go outside and find treasures in nature that calm you, reconnect you, ground you, and inspire you. Listen for your mourning dove call.

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The CBC article and podcast features Kevin Parkinson, a wildfire operations officer based out of Slave Lake, Alberta, who is one of the few trained experts within the province with an intimate knowledge of utilizing prescribed burns for combating large wildfires. 

As a highlight on the podcast series, this CBC article touches on a lesser-known side of wildfires, that is, that wildfires are not necessarily inherently bad. In fact, they can even be beneficial. Wildfires themselves are natural and the complete prevention of them is not always the “best solution”, even from a human-centric point of view. Massive, destructive wildfires can be devastating, as we’ve all seen in the media in recent years, with fires including the 2016 Fort McMurray fire in Alberta or the 2020 El Dorado fire in California. These large, out-of-control massive fires differ significantly from the prescribed burns described by Snowdon’s article.

Wildfires themselves are natural and the complete prevention of them is not always the “best solution”…

Prescribed burns, also commonly known as controlled burns, are fires set intentionally by experts for land or fire management. As mentioned by the article, these types of burns are done across Alberta each year, however, it is important to note that they are used across Canada and other parts of the world for the benefits they provide. Interestingly, they can be used for fire management, reducing the risks associated with subsequent fires on the landscape. They can also aid in greenhouse gas abatement, promoting regeneration and regrowth of forested areas, and the restoration or maintenance of habitats.

Re-growth on the forest floor after the 2017 Horse Prairie Fire in southern Oregon // Credit: Chelsea Uggenti

You may ask yourself: “How does starting fires lead to less fires?” Although it may seem counter-intuitive, prescribed burn fires can help reduce the risk of later, and often more severe and thus dangerous, fires. Over time, combustible materials such as dried leaves and branches can build up on the forest floor. This accumulation can make the forest more susceptible to a severe fire. Attempting to suppress and prevent fires indefinitely actually often helps enable excess combustible material to accumulate, thus increasing the risk of a severe fire later. Prescribed burns are used to clear this material away before the risk becomes too great. 

Cleaning up the forest floor litter after a prescribed burn in 2018 near Bend, Oregon // Credit: Chelsea Uggenti

Cleaning up the forest floor litter after a prescribed burn in 2017 in the Ochoco National Forest // Credit: Chelsea Uggenti

From an ecological point of view, fires can be important to maintaining certain habitats, and some ecological communities are even regarded as “fire dependent”. Without relatively frequent fires, these areas will not support the same species they otherwise would. Prolonged fire suppression efforts by humans have altered these landscapes, but we are realizing that fires can be important. Through prescribed burns, some of these ecosystems have been at least partially restored.

A few ways that prescribed burns can begin were also highlighted in the CBC article. One such method included dropping fireballs (ping-pong like balls filled with glycol that chemically react) from helicopters to ignite slow burning forest fires. However, sometimes a more intense fire is warranted during a prescribed burn. For these more intense fires, another aerial technique that is employed is called a heli-torch, a helicopter with a 45-gallon drum with gel that is ignited as it is dumped over the forest. Other tamer methods include using a drip torch – a canister that pours flaming fuel onto the ground, done manually while walking in the forest – which are a bit less intense but just as important for wildfire suppression. These are just a few of the hazard reduction technologies and techniques Parkinson uses to protect from larger wildfires, however, there is a lot more strategy involved than simply playing with pyrotechnics. As the article highlights, smaller strategic fires can be set to redirect wildfires in safer directions towards natural fire breaks and often, these fires are carefully planned and executed in detail.

A scorched tree after a wildfire in Umpqua National Forest, Oregon // Credit: Chelsea Uggenti

These burns must be done responsibly, with careful consideration and planning of the present environment. Short and long-term weather conditions, the combustible material present, the types of ecosystems, and nearby infrastructure are all factored in when agencies create a “burn plan”. Parkinson mentioned the carefully planned and executed prescribed burn in Rocky Mountain House that took 10 years to occur while they waited for the right conditions. Although some people believe these burns are bad since they can create or increase smoke plumes in populated areas which can lead to uncomfortable breathing conditions or increased smoke-related illnesses, it is important to realize that the smoke generated by these burns is usually less intrusive and dangerous than the smoke generated by a raging wildfire.

What does this mean to us, exactly? We feel that articles like this give us hope. Although wildfires can be very dangerous and scary, there are some amazing preventative measures, like prescribed burns, in place that help to reduce their risks. It is inspiring to read about Kevin Parkinson’s flaming ping-pong balls technique and the other methods employed by fire fighters and crews. Moving forward, we hope to see better communication (I mean, we’re living in the digital age, right?!) between fire management agencies, fire fighters, and the public that continues to share and strengthen the knowledge that prescribed burns are necessary and effective. We hear the common “short-term pains for long-term gains” phrase ringing in our minds.

This article is part of our March 2021 Western Student Editorial Series – a series that showcases the works of students in the Collaborative Specialization in Environment and Sustainability program. Read more articles from this series here!

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