
Across the parts of Turtle Island now known as Canada, the seasons are beginning to change. Brisk morning air, vegetable harvests, pumpkin spice lattes, and – of course – shimmering leaves of bright red, yellow, and orange.
From the cityscape to the backroads, the stunning colours of autumn symbolize a season of transition. Letting go of the old to make way for the new.
Borealization of the Wabanaki forest
The forests of the Canadian Maritimes are unique compared to the rest of the country. Sandwiched between pockets of southern temperate hardwood forests and the vast northern boreal forest, the Wabanaki forest (also known as the Acadian forest), covers Nova Scotia, much of New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and parts of eastern Québec and New England. Stretching 24 million hectares, this transitional zone blends boreal and temperate tree species with incredible diversity. Or at least it used to.
Since European settlement, the Wabanaki forest has undergone a ‘borealization.’ Four hundred years of expanding human disturbance has resulted in temperate (often deciduous – broad leaved) tree species being replaced by boreal (often coniferous) species. In many places, the once vibrant fall colours have disappeared into a sea of green needles.
The causes are many: land clearing for agriculture, industrial scale clearcutting, “high grading” (cutting down only the most valuable trees), and plantations of fast-growing softwood species that create desirable products for the forest industry and can be easily grown for the purposes of repeated timber extraction.
Ecological forestry: shaking up the status quo
While parts of the Wabanaki forest continue to be intensively managed to maximize wood production, the future looks slightly different in Nova Scotia.
After years of public pressure, the government of Nova Scotia commissioned an arms-length critical review of forestry practices to Dr. William Lahey, a legal scholar and former public servant with experience recommending policy reforms on other environmental issues. In 2018, the infamous ‘Lahey Report’ was released, recommending that clearcutting needed to be significantly reduced to protect remaining integrity of Nova Scotia’s Wabanaki forest.
To strive to balance multiple objectives (e.g., environmental, social, economic), the province agreed to shift the forest sector towards ‘ecological forestry.’ As of summer 2022, forested Crown land in Nova Scotia has been divided up:
– protected from forestry (35% of Crown land);
– lighter touch ecological forestry – no clearcutting (55% of Crown land);
– high production forestry – clearcutting, when appropriate (10% of Crown land).
A large portion of Nova Scotia’s land base is privately owned, and millions in provincial funding has been committed to encouraging the uptake of ecological forestry practices on private land as well. Returning some of the land base to Indigenous-led forest stewardship has been an encouraging step in the right direction.
Examining this ‘natural’ experiment
One could argue that Nova Scotia’s transition to ecological forestry is too late. Less than 1% of old growth forest (100 to 140+ years old) remains. Wildlife that once thrived in Nova Scotia’s intact Wabanaki forest are declining (moose, marten) or have disappeared entirely (cougar, caribou). Mill closures and declining job prospects indicate that the forestry industry is also struggling, following declines in valuable timber left on the land and many other market factors. Some regions have been repeatedly clearcut to the point that they will not recover to a biodiverse, climax, Wabanaki forest without concerted restoration efforts from humans.
On the flip side, examples of sweeping policy changes that shake up traditional approaches to natural resource management are few and far between. Changes to the status quo that help slow down the biodiversity crisis, recover the long-term viability of the forestry sector, and make forest management more inclusive, should be celebrated.
As this ‘natural’ experiment rolls out, the province has funded academics and community networks to research the potential implications of implementing ecological forestry. Those who are involved will use environmental, social, and economic angles to study what this policy change means for the future Wabanaki forest, and those who depend on it.
Autumn is the season of transformation. The magnitude of Nova Scotia’s ecological forestry transition may not be noticeable right away. Like the seasons, it’s going to take time.
An optimist will imagine future generations celebrating big trees returning to the Wabanaki forest. Hazel, brown, red, orange, and yellow blossoming across landscape every autumn.
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash