ldo
Leopold, a grandparent of the modern conservation movement, remarked
that the definition of a conservationist is written better with an axe
than a pen. "A conservationist is one who is humbly aware that
with each stroke he is writing his signature on the face of his
land," offered Leopold.
Hobblebush leaves
over a stream.
(Photo: Jamie Simpson)
I think of this as I decide which trees on my woodlot to cut for
firewood. My chainsaw bites into one tree, a diseased beech, and I
cut it into firewood lengths. I hesitate over cutting a white ash
that's close to death. I decide to leave it and a year later I find
that a woodpecker family had taken up residence in the now dead ash.
I cut through the bark of another beech tree to kill it, but leave
it standing to provide deadwood habitat for wildlife. I cut a few
white birch trees to give light to a young, vigorous red spruce, and
I cut some poorly formed sugar maple from a clump, leaving the best
two with more room to grow. I take a light approach to my cutting; I
nibble away here and there, cutting some of the poorer quality
trees. Ideally, my cutting will slowly restore conditions found in
mature, natural Acadian Forest: an abundance of shade-tolerant
species such as red spruce and sugar maple, and plentiful dead trees
to provide homes for wildlife.
Gap in white ash
stand created by the author as he cut firewood.
(Photo: Jamie Simpson)
In
this way, I accumulate three or four cords of firewood every year,
working evenings and the odd weekend. In exchange for some tree
felling work, a friend brings her truck to my woodlot in early summer
to help me transport the firewood from the forest to my woodshed. It's
a nice excuse to be social. I don't bother to keep track of the time
it takes me to cut my firewood. I do it because I enjoy it: the
outdoor exercise, the satisfaction of slowly encouraging a healthy
forest, the smell of wood smoke from my stove in the fall. I think,
too, of my carbon footprint as I sit beside my woodstove in February -
and smile at my local, small-scale energy production. It's a luxury to
be warm without worrying about the price, both in dollars and carbon,
of furnace oil or electric heat.
Firewood.
(Photo: Jamie Simpson)
It's
also a luxury to have a daily connection with the forest. There's
magic in spring's first trillium, in discovering a hemlock I hadn't
seen before, in stumbling across a bear one fall afternoon, in the
sound of a hermit thrush at twilight in May. Or in drinking water that
comes from a shallow well on the woodlot, water that is clean and
delicious thanks, in part at least, to the intact forest surrounding
the well. There's something special in sharing the woodlot with
friends who come to hike or ski, and with strangers who seek out the
trails for a Sunday walk. My neighbour tells me he tracked a cougar on
my property once, and that gives me a little chill if I happen to be
in the forest at night.
Serviceberry bloom
in the spring.
(Photo: Jamie Simpson)
I
don't depend on my woodlot for income. I don't even try to make it pay
for itself. And this is a luxury too. I can afford to give the forest
time to heal, to grow big trees. I do this happily, with a sense of
responsibility of ownership. But I would like to see society place
more value on the benefits of thoughtful woodlot management. After
all, my woodlot provides clean air, it captures and stores carbon, it
shelters a stream that runs into a nearby nature preserve, it gives
habitat to roaming wildlife, and it forms part of an aesthetically
pleasing landscape. These are all benefits to society, but nowhere are
they accounted for outside of my own satisfaction. In some manner, we
need to recognize that the forest is important to society, regardless
of who owns it. Ownership should come with an appropriate reward for
good stewardship, and disincentives for poor management. But
ultimately, my thoughts come back to Leopold's assertion of
responsibility for one's actions on the land, and the signature I will
leave on the land for future owners.
Young red spruce
growing in understory.
(Photo: Jamie Simpson)
Jamie
Simpson currently resides in Halifax, where he came for work, but is
happy to think of his woodlot growing along quite capably without him.
Jamie is finishing a resource book for woodlot owners about the
Acadian Forest and woodlot restoration.
