You know the place… 

The moss grows thicker here. So thick, you can barely hear your footsteps. The soft green of it creeps up and over the rocks. You leave the trail, head through the trees, and hop over the brook. The ground beneath your feet is softer, muckier now and you are happy you wore your boots this morning. You make your way down toward the water, not all the way. You stop where the rocks come up to meet the trees. The tide has left pools of water here along the edge, while the sea spray adds a little more.

This is the place.

At this time of year, all along the Southern and Eastern shores of Nova Scotia, all the way to and around Cape Breton Island, you’ll find, growing up and over the cliffs and inland through water-soaked fields, cranberries, fox berries, and wild blackberries. Earlier in the year, as the summer nights were growing longer, you would have found blueberries and huckleberries in these very same spots, possibly some raspberries and wild roses. You might still find the odd one here or there. Earlier still, chanterelles would have popped up in the dryer earth beneath the trees, in happy little clusters of egg-yolk yellow. This summer, in fact, the chanterelles were as abundant as they have ever been. You may have found yourself heading home from a walk with your basket full and a couple extra in your pockets.

This morning, you’re hoping for a basket full of berries. 

All it takes is a walk.

For thousands of years, humans have walked these shores, climbing up and along the rocks and in through forests and marshes, all in search of sustenance… the birds and the bears, the foxes and the chipmunks, even longer still.

Looking back, just over the past century and a half, we find that of all the coastal wild foods, berries were among those that drew many to the shores of this place. In her research on rural communities and coasts along the Atlantic, Sara Spike found, from the 1880s through the 1950s, cranberries had grown so popular and increasingly commercially-available, that communities grew concerned about how many were being harvested.* This concern, she discovered, resulted in harvesting laws to protect some of the cranberry barrens from over-picking and commercialization. In her work, she explores “community-led efforts to maintain the viability of a rural commons for wild harvesting alongside the commercialization of an increasingly valuable agricultural commodity”.*

The protection of wild spaces has long been recognized as crucial to the survival of not only the berries - the entire ecosystem. Ecological stewardship, however, is not as simple as building a fence or enacting a law. In fact, certain barriers can restrict our experience of and many communities’ traditional engagement with the wild. In fact, Spike writes that while the cranberry laws of the mid-twentieth century may seem ecologically beneficial, “regulations of this kind served to extend non-indigenous authority over the wild spaces of Canada.”* In this way, barriers work to perpetuate colonizing relations while reinforcing the idea that we exist outside of, or parallel, to the natural world.

Ecological stewardship depends upon our recognition of ourselves as part of the wild. In a piece on Our Food SENB, Jody Nelson writes about the good stewardship modelled by Indigenous people and describes this stewardship as “an ecological mindset that goes beyond individual well being to community health, and a balanced coexistence with the plants and animals we share these lands and waters with”.**

The Mi’kmaq have lived as stewards of this place for thousands of years and continue to advocate a stewardship approach. The Mi’kmaq of Unama’ki formed the Unama’ki Institute of Natural Resources (UINR), (representing five communities of Eskasoni, Membertou, Potlotek, Wagmatcook, and We’koqma’q), to address the sustainability of their ecosystem. In describing Indigenous Protected Conserved Areas (IPCAs) on the Nova Scotia Environmental Network, Trish Nash of UINR explains one of the guiding Mi’kmaw principles - Netukulimk - as “achieving adequate standards of community nutrition and economic well-being without jeopardizing the integrity, diversity, or productivity of our environment.”*** Consider for a moment, if we were apply such a principle to all of our interactions with our ecosystem - we might realize a more respectful and equitable relationship with the wild and with each other.

Down the mainland coast along the South Shore, at the end of a dirt road that winds through the trees and the cranberries, sits The Harrison Lewis Coastal Discovery Centre - a non-profit organization dedicated to the appreciation of the natural environment and the local history. This Centre and its members work to promote and advance environmental conservation through research, instruction, literature, and the arts. In doing so, the Centre provides a space for learning that encourages environmental advocacy. If you have the good fortune of attending an event there, you might find yourself heading off for a walk through the trees, down to the ocean.

Wherever you are, when you do head off for that walk, look around. You might just find something new to you, something delicious. We have a habit of taking lots of pictures of berries, leaves, and funghi as we’re walking. Later, while we’re sitting quietly, we’ll get out our guide books comparing our photos to those in the books. We’ll read and we’ll do internet searches and we’ll read some more.

One of our favourite resources is Jamie Simpson’s Eating Wild in Eastern Canada: a guide to foraging the forests, fields, and shorelines.**** Simpson clearly describes a wide range of wild edibles in and around our coastal communities and how to identify them. His detailed and thoughtful writing gets us excited to learn more. Once we’ve gotten to know a plant or a fungus really well we’ll gather some and bring them home for dinner. Not only do we find deliciousness, we learn something new about the world we live in, and we are reminded how very precious it is - and how very lucky we are.

Resources like Simpson’s book and the above organizations help foster a recognition and appreciation of our place within our ecosystem. We live in it after all.

So let’s take a walk.

We’ll look for cranberries.

* Spike, Sara. 2014. Cranberry Capers: Wild Harvesting in Nova Scotia, 1880s and 1950s. In Niche December 10, 2014, Network in Canadian History and Environment. Retrieved October 1, 2021 from https://niche-canada.org/2014/12/10/cranberry-capers-wild-harvesting-in-nova-scotia-1880s-and-1950s/

** Nelson, Jody. 2019. Indigenous Food on Our Food SENB: Adventures in Local Food Blog, June 11, 2019. Retrieve October 1, 2021 from https://www.ourfoodsenb.ca/en/2019/06/11/indigenous-food-rec-2/

*** Nash, Trish. 2021. Indigenous Protected and Conserved Areas (IPCAs), on Nova Scotia Environmental Network, July 21, 2021. Retrieved October 1, 2021 from https://www.nsenvironmentalnetwork.com/blog/indigenous-protected-and-conserved-areas-ipcas?fbclid=IwAR2PoqKWcJamP9-iJZeQ2iK10QB707CqAgJlfCDJvhCxKnUXGKYIE6QYgOU

**** Simpson, Jamie. 2018. Eating Wild in Eastern Canada: a guide to foraging the forests, fields, and shorelines. Nimbus Publishing: Halifax.