Annapolis Valley Register

Resurrecti­on

Turning clear-cuts into homesteads is a win-win on Hampton Mountain

- LAWRENCE POWELL SALTWIRE.COM ANNAPOLIS VALLEY

Deryk Eagles walks the clearcut, his bright orange Dunlops the only bit of unnatural colour on the 86 acres of slash.

He steps carefully over limbs left from the ‘harvest’ to a pile of small logs culled from the mess. They’ll be firewood back at Snow Lake Keep.

His partner, Adam Harris, stands with hands in pocket, atop the stump of a big old spruce in the recent clear-cut at the top of Hampton Mountain Road. It upsets Harris that he can now walk through a clearcut forest without getting angry – as if it was normal. He knows he should be mad.

It’s more like he’s resigned. But that doesn’t mean he and Eagles aren’t doing something about it. They bought the clearcut land and they’re going to rehabilita­te it. In the process, they’ll provide young people with an opportunit­y.

“The value of that land is first in the cultural and community value of it,” said Harris. “It’s a way of attracting more folks to this area who are of a certain mindset, and those people would be interested in working with that land. Help it recover and understand that’s what’s required. I think that’s the first thing. And secondly, it’s of value because as that recovery is managed there’s a lot of firewood that comes out of that, out of the thinning.”

But there’s more to it than that. He’s convinced there’s a strong element that’s inherently anti-clear-cutting.

“Because every person who has ever gone through the recovery process is someone who will absolutely understand why you should never clear-cut in the first place. The amount of work that goes into a recovery, and everyone you interact with and is involved in that process over those years, is really strengthen­ing the understand­ing in the community as to what sustainabl­e forestry would actually look like.”

RESURRECTI­ON

yellow birches. That’s the forest at equilibriu­m – in regards to species compositio­n – for as long as the forest remains undisturbe­d.

“Ultimately it’s still, by a long shot, the best technology we have for sequesteri­ng carbon,” he said. “And that is the most important thing we can do on this planet right now.”

Forests take ages to grow back and the climate crisis is immediate. Eagles understand­s the time pressure. “It’s our only shot,” he says of reforestat­ion.

Harris said there’s something beautiful about taking problems and finding that together they’re the solution. Fixing the forests fixes a lot.

“We’ve got young people who are in need of affordable housing and places where they can grow food,” he said. “We have this huge and growing stock of clearcut land that’s mostly valueless to most people. And this sort of, like, youth-drain that’s happened on the east coast. All of these things could be sorted out if we attract these young people, looking for places to farm in an affordable way, to these cuts. And simultaneo­usly these clearcuts will have the sort of human presence required to coach them back to health.”

CULTURAL SHIFT

According to Eagles, in the last 20 years there’s been a cultural shift in Nova Scotia, and notably with the rural sector. Eagles sees a built-in economic viability that in the end could sustain the new homesteade­rs and the fledgling forest as they grow back. “All of the young people left. Now all the old people are dying. So the culture indigenous to this place is gone.”

Harris sees that disappeari­ng rural culture as a side effect of corporate greed.

“One hundred people with absolutely no effort being applied, other than the fact they happen to have enough money to spare in the first place, sort of waiting for a freebie,” Harris said of stock holders in big corporate resource companies. “That’s where a lot of those ill behaviours originate, is that they’re trying to extract a level of value that’s well, well, well beyond the amount of effort that’s actually being put in. That’s always going to come back to bite you. Which means they’re always going to be extracting more value than they’re returning to the community just by definition.”

ANTITHESIS

The antithesis of that is what Eagles and Harris are trying to do. Communitie­s have to become involved.

“That’s what we’re trying to foster here,” Eagles said. “A community that will be proactive. There’s all kinds of people who work in forestry in our neighbourh­ood. A lot of them operate machines for clear-cut. They’re our friends. It’s their jobs. That’s just the job they’ve gotten into working in forestry their whole life.”

He doesn’t blame or judge. “There’s really not a whole lot of alternativ­es,” Eagles said. “If we had a government that was open to, say, community forestry projects, we could securely take on a block of Crown land and rehabilita­te it with some funding in order to meet our targets in Paris, or where ever, that our government made and has to fulfill. That is proactive.”

He said it also allows people to actually have a role in the process.

“A place where they feel like they can do something. That’s one of the biggest issues. Everyone knows what kind of trouble we’re in but everybody feels powerless to do something about it,” he said. “This is the ultimate win-win. The government wins. They get to meet their targets. The people get a purpose that they feel good about. It fosters a community spirit. The environmen­t is improving. And we’re also building a forest inventory that hopefully in the future can be more sustainabl­y managed by our kids and grandkids. It’s a long-term strategy and I don’t see how anybody can lose.”

“All of the young people left. Now all the old people are dying. So the culture indigenous to this place is gone.”

PRESSURE

Both Eagles and Harris say young people across Canada are looking to Nova Scotia for this particular opportunit­y. Land prices almost everywhere else are prohibitiv­e. People reach out to them.

The name Spider Robinson comes up. His book "Time Pressure" takes place not too far away. The famous science fiction writer was among the many Americans who came to the area almost 50 years ago. Back-tothe-landers. Some avoiding the draft. Some avoiding turbulent times.

Both Harris and Eagles understand the similariti­es, Nova Scotia being a Mecca for a certain type of people.

The difference, they say, is that in the 1970s people were running from something.

Today they’re running towards something.

– Deryk Eagles

 ?? LAWRENCE POWELL ?? Adam Harris and Deryk Eagles bought an 86-acre clear-cut they’re in the process of rehabilita­ting by offering it to young homesteade­rs who believe in ecological sustainabi­lity and hard work.
LAWRENCE POWELL Adam Harris and Deryk Eagles bought an 86-acre clear-cut they’re in the process of rehabilita­ting by offering it to young homesteade­rs who believe in ecological sustainabi­lity and hard work.
 ?? LAWRENCE POWELL ?? Deryk Eagles stands by a pile of logs culled from the clear-cut on Hampton Mountain Road. He bought the land after the trees were harvested and, along with Adam Harris, sees the 86 acres as potential homesteads.
LAWRENCE POWELL Deryk Eagles stands by a pile of logs culled from the clear-cut on Hampton Mountain Road. He bought the land after the trees were harvested and, along with Adam Harris, sees the 86 acres as potential homesteads.

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