Land before time

Tiny St. Lawrence Islands National Park, a 20-square-kilometre collection of 25 island and mainland properties between Kingston and Brockville, is a true melting pot of species. The park’s islands, like the other islands in the region, act as stepping stones for birds, animals and other species migrating across the St. Lawrence, including 33 species that the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada classifies as endangered, threatened or of special concern. Among them are the Henslow’s sparrow and the eastern loggerhead shrike (endangered); the least bittern, stinkpot turtle, black rat snake and deerberry (threatened); and the southern flying squirrel, cerulean warbler, red-shouldered hawk and red-headed woodpecker (of special concern).

“We have a mix of species and ecologies here that is unique and highly susceptible to change,” says Gord Giffin, the park superintendent. “We also have 81,000 annual visitors to whom we’re supposed to provide a meaningful park experience. With our islands scattered far and wide and only so many staff to monitor the activities there… let’s just say [doing so] can be a challenge.”

The challenge of marrying the needs of wildlife with, well, us, is much greater when you consider the arch in its entirety. This is where the Frontenac Arch Biosphere Reserve (FABR) comes in. It is more than a symbolic designation of the 3,000-square-kilometre rectangle of land bordered roughly by Kingston, Brockville and Westport; it is also the name of a non-profit body, headed by Ross, whose headquarters is a small office located a stone’s throw from the Ontario end of the Thousand Islands International Bridge, which spans the St. Lawrence 15 kilometres east of Gananoque. The organization’s three-person staff works to unite a 70-member coalition of conservation groups such as Ontario Nature and Nature Conservancy of Canada, landowners’ associations, the Akwesasne Mohawk Nation, tourism operators, land trusts, chambers of commerce, agricultural groups and municipalities under a common banner of sustainable environmental, economic and community development. “Since we have no legal jurisdiction, we operate mainly by helping people who might normally never talk to each other, talk to each other,” explains Ross. “You could call us ‘Networks “R” Us.’ ”

A lot more than talking is going on. FABR staff work with local school boards to structure curriculum – say, parts of geography lessons – about the unique features of the arch. To promote ecotourism, a group called 1000 Islands Water Trails has put together a network of nine kayaking and canoe routes in the region. Conservation groups are either lobbying or assisting the 10 municipalities within the arch to develop environmentally sound planning policies that will help them grow economically without undermining their ecological well-being, while other FABR partners, such as the Algonquin to Adirondacks Conservation Association (A2A), are battling habitat fragmentation. “There’s all this great habitat in the arch, but a lot of it is in isolated pockets,” says Emily Conger, A2A’s president. “We need to link them up so that animals and plants can move freely from place to place, the way they’re supposed to.”

Creating these links requires a lot of data gathering. One A2A project involved contracting Ross to hike both sides of Highway 401 between Gananoque and Brockville to learn where animals try, or rather, fail, to cross the road. In Banff National Park, A2A’s sister organization in the west, the Yellowstone to Yukon Conservation Initiative has shown that animal mortality can be reduced by erecting fences that direct animals into culverts under the highway or toward wildlife-only bridges over roadways. Conger hopes that Ross’s information will help indicate where such structures might be built, or improved, along the arch stretch of the 401 to offset the habitat-fragmentation effects of Canada’s busiest highway.

A 2003 St. Lawrence Islands National Park study suggested that the culvert solution might be a lifesaver for the arch’s turtles. Some species lay eggs beside roads, a habit that affects their survival not only because passing vehicles may flatten the mothers, but because foraging raccoons can easily find the eggs. Moreover, because turtles are slow growing, the loss of one female can have a disastrous effect on small localized populations like the ones known to exist in some arch wetlands. “With some species, we may be at a tipping point,” says Shaun Thompson, a Ministry of Natural Resources biologist based in Kemptville who has studied the area’s musk, map, Blanding’s and painted turtles. “Even a slight drop in the number of females may make it impossible for the population to recover.”

St. Lawrence Islands National Park is also gathering vital habitat data. With the permission of local landowners, research crews from the park are surveying private properties near the St. Lawrence. This allows the crews to educate landowners on how to protect valuable flora and fauna on their property without being regulated to do so. It also yields data that analysts can use to create satellite maps that highlight different forest types and reveal potential linkages among these and other critical habitats. “We already know a fair bit about the habitat requirements of the key species, but the one thing that’s really missing in terms of knowledge is where those vegetation communities are on the landscape,” says Thompson. “If you’re going to do anything in terms of computer modelling or satellite mapping, that’s probably the most pivotal data set you need.”

The Frontenac Arch is a natural fit with Ontario Nature’s Greenway initiative, which seeks to connect major habitat areas in southern Ontario via a series of interconnected green corridors. That is why the organization is planning to become a member of the FABR partnership.

“There’s a whole spectrum of capacities, capabilities and missions among all our groups,” says Francis. “By moving forward together in support of one goal, but all doing it in different ways, we can ensure that the Frontenac Arch remains an amazing natural place.”

Intuitively, my children also know that. Already, they are eager to return and lay eyes on their first bald eagle.

Alec Ross is a Kingston, Ontario writer, canoeist and nature lover who has Precambrian granite in his bones.

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