On Preserving Habitat

ON PRESERVING HABITAT 

March/April issue, 2007

I stopped in to see an old friend one day last summer. She wasn’t home, and hasn’t been for some time, as she passed away several years ago. But the cottage where this charming Estonian lady used to come nearly every summer weekend in the mid-1960s, is still there – its door off the hinges, windows broken, and signs of obvious intrusion by animals of every description. Bushes, vines and saplings almost hide the cottage from view, and the white picket fence I remember her painting one afternoon is listing and  in decay.

Her garden, where she used to grow vegetables, followed later the same season by sweeping vistas of red poppies, is now difficult to navigate, wild raspberries snatching the clothing where potatoes once grew, and the conifers and deciduous trees she tenderly nurtured, now huge and towering above the garden. A rose arbour still stands at the far end of the garden, an abandoned bird house attached where she nailed it more than 40 years ago. Some of her gardening tools can still be seen in the collapsing outbuildings. A broom rake leans against the outside wall of the garage where she probably left it on her last visit, likely intending to finish her job on her next trip down from Toronto.

I was reminded of this kind and generous lady awhile ago when I gave a presentation to a group in Belleville. The person who introduced me had lived in a rented house nearby and mentioned a woman who spent her daylight hours in her garden and often gave her gifts of flowers and preserves. I knew right away who she was referring to, for we, too, were often the recipients of such gifts. Neither of us could remember her first name; we always called her Mrs. Vool, and every weekend she would be tending her flower beds, planting shrubs, or harvesting produce from her garden.

Mrs. Vool and her garden became the topic of one of the first articles I ever wrote for a Picton area newspaper more than four decades ago. I located the article in one of my scrapbooks and discovered that I didn’t know her first name back then either! But I will always remember Mrs. Vool as a person who had such a love for gardening and would arrive every weekend with her husband. She always arrived at the cottage with new shrubs in her car to plant. Whether or not she realized it at the time, she was actually naturalizing her property – like it was some inborn instinct to do so. In the process, she created a haven for wildlife, in an area that was bare of vegetation when she initially bought the property. Her efforts, even back then, likely served to attract a few species of wildlife, and following her death, left a legacy as these plantings now carry on by themselves without her weekly pails of water and her tender nurturing.

As the world population continues to burgeon, we are losing valuable habitat as each new home, each new subdivision, takes a bite out of available habitat for wildlife. Individually, it is a small bite each time, but collectively adds up, resulting in gradual declines of wildlife species. Wildlife species are programmed to seek out a specific size of real estate, and subsequently decline in numbers in response to the amount of habitat that is readily available. But it isn’t something that happens overnight. The change is subtle, and we notice these changes only if we look back several decades and compare. White-throated sparrows for example have decreased in numbers. There are still many, and we see them without fail each spring, but compare today’s numbers with those of 30 years ago and  one will note changes in densities. We need more Mrs. Vools to restore and naturalize backyards, to provide small havens for remaining wildlife.

It is gratifying though to see programs in place that serve to preserve habitat and emphasize  the importance of biodiversity – not just traditional game species. I have worked professionally in some of these and have even taken advantage of a few. To see people performing simple little projects in their own backyard, such as planting native wildlife shrubs, erecting nest boxes and enhancing wildlife habitat is indeed reassuring. We won’t save the world with our efforts, but at least we have some satisfaction in knowing that each of us is doing what we can.

This effort to enhance and preserve wildlife habitat has merged beyond the backyard and onto farms. Efforts have been made through conservation authority programs to take a look at some of our practices and ask if they are really necessary or beneficial to wildlife. Such things as removing dead trees and snags, while cosmetically enhancing a woodlot, is actually being frowned on these days in an effort to preserve these important sites for wood ducks, saw-whet owls and small mammals who make them their homes. Remember the days we always used to throw a gallon or two of old engine oil and a couple of tires in the back of the pickup and head back to the woods to burn those brush piles? Today brush piles are being encouraged as important wildlife habitat. They decompose soon enough on their own, but while they are there, provide shelter for cottontail rabbits, and a refuge for a host of other wildlife.

Sometimes it’s simply a case of looking at what we already have and asking if we really need to do anything. There is nothing wrong with overgrown fields, fencebottoms, stone piles and rail fences.  Each of these is critical habitat for something. Messy is often good. Any efforts, however small, do work. And it is possible to have the best of both worlds – an attractive lawn and some wild space.

It is little wonder that the pursuit of nature is North America’s most popular hobby, if we combine nature with gardening, for both are a single entity, in my mind. It is our way of dealing with stress and deadline pressures. I think Mrs. Vool, in her own special way, instilled that in me when she would flag me down to present us with a bouquet of flowers from her garden.