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Halifax at 250: Other Faces One of the main events of this summer's tourism season is sure to be the celebrations surrounding the 250th anniversary of the founding of Halifax. Here, we present articles that look at Halifax's beginnings from three different angles. First, a look at how the whole thing might have appeared to the working-class Londoners and other ordinary British working-class who made up the vast bulk of the new arrivals. Then, we take a look at how the new town's founding might have appeared to the people already here, the Mi'kmaq and the Acadians. These three articles offer convincing evidence that Halifax's beginnings involved far more than dashing officers and colourful press gangs. I: The Settlers "A Shiftless Lot"? by David Sutherland The founders of Halifax suffer from an image problem. Edward Cornwallis,leader of the expedition that founded the city in 1749, has recently been denounced for a campaign of violence he launched against those within the Mi'kmaq community who resisted Britain's invasion of Native territory. Long before this present-day ruckus, however, it became fashionable to portray the rank and file of those who arrived with Cornwallis as a set of scalawags whose main contribution to the settlement was to drink, avoid work, and then desert, unless first claimed by an early death. This is the image that prevails in Thomas Raddall's widely read book Halifax: Warden of the North. There, readers are told that most of the 1749 pioneers "were a shiftless lot," "a rabble of [London] cockneys" who found it "much more pleasant to sit in the breeze by the shore and grumble about the arrangements" than to do any hard work. In Raddall's Halifax, laziness and debauchery allegedly prevailed into the first winter, when contagious fevers swept through town, killing hundreds and thus ridding the town of "its worst human element." Then, according to Raddall, "tough "and "resourceful" Yankees, along with "frugal" and "patient" Germans, began to rehabilitate the character of Halifax, giving it the ability to prevail despite the harsh conditions. All communities have a founding myth, a biased and selective view of the past that usually serves to conjure up positive thoughts about one's origins through stories of courage and heroic sacrifice. But this isn't the case with Halifax, where conventional wisdom says that those first ashore made a false start that had to be undone to make way for later and more virtuous Haligonians. But were the ordinary people who sailed into Chebucto Harbour 250 years ago really as wicked as Raddall suggests? New ideas about what was normal in frontier settlements in early North America suggest that we need to take another look at what happened in Halifax in 1749. In particular, we should reassess the behaviour of the working-class Londoners who made up the bulk of Halifax's initial population. Most of the largely anonymous 2,500 folk who sailed into Chebucto Harbour in the early summer of 1749 were poor, illiterate, and lacked any formal access to power. They rarely speak for themselves in the written record. Instead, we hear of them from others, generally their "superiors," people who were usually predisposed to distrust the "lower orders." Their suspicions focussed particularly on what Cornwallis and his kind characterized as sloth and desertion. The new settlers, they said, refused to work building the fortifications and, even worse, they ran off to New England at the first opportunity. There is no doubt that this happened, but why? First, there was the issue of land. Those who embarked for Chebucto had been promised 50 acres of real estate per head of household and an additional ten acres for every household member. As most immigrants saw it, land was essential if they were to succeed in America. Getting a farm of one's own might just be worth all the risks of crossing the Atlantic. Unfortunately, the authorities didn't deliver on this all-important promise. For weeks, Cornwallis put off the allocation of land and then, when it was distributed, all most settlers got was a town lot measuring 40 by 60 feet, a tiny rectangle of rocky, fog-bound soil. That "gift" must have been a source of enormous disappointment to the new arrivals. In response, many left for New England, hoping there to satisfy the land hunger that had been so powerful a motivation for venturing across the Atlantic. Probably among the first to go were the Roman Catholics, who didn't learn until after their arrival in Halifax that land would be given only to Protestants. So, was it desertion, or just shrewd self-interest? Then there was the issue of wages. A scarcity of labour was always a feature of frontier life, but Cornwallis assumed that he could deal with this problem simply by conscripting settlers to work on everything from fortifications to official accommodations. After all, they had been given free passage across the ocean and free provisions for their first year in the New World. But the settlers saw things differently, insisting that work on their own homes must come first, and if that were to be delayed, they should at least get good wages. Surely it was something other that laziness that led them to wonder whether their prospects might not be better served by moving south to Boston. The "word on the street" seemed to be for leaving Halifax, where jobs were likely to become scarce once the initial construction boom petered out. Cornwallis fumed, and later historians have echoed his frustration, but should that be accepted as an objective judgement of the behaviour of Halifax's pioneers? Within a year, the combined lure of land and work lured away as many as half the original settlers. A few — but only a few — were struck down by disease. Most survived, but, like generations of immigrants who later came to all parts of North America, moved on in search of what they saw as better chances of success. Significantly, this same pattern was followed by most of the Germans who followed the English into Halifax, starting in the summer of 1750, but they opted for Lunenburg rather than New England as their new homeland. And so Halifax's founders departed amid the curses of their "superiors," who were left to wrestle with mounting debt and disappointment. Out of this controversy emerged a myth that early Halifax might have flourished but for hostile Natives and the bad character of the initial immigrants. But perhaps it would be fairer to suggest that it was the frontier that failed the settlers. Arriving with high expectations of "making it" in the New World, they found themselves plunged into danger and difficulty, and they lacked the land and income needed to make staying on worthwhile. Now, as we celebrate Halifax's 250th birthday, those "nobodies" who dominated the early settlement deserve another look. We should see them neither as villains nor as heroes, but rather as normal human beings searching for the foundations of a new life amid very hard times. Their struggle to succeed, which included a defiance of authority, is an important, but often distorted, part of the story of Halifax, 1749. David Sutherland teaches history at Dalhousie University in Halifax. II: The Mi'kmaq British Genocide by Dan Paul On September 27, 1989, I made my first public comments about the genocide the British committed against the Mi'kmaq in the Maritimes. The following is a very short version of the events that inspired me to do so. During the first three centuries of the European invasion of the Americas, many European powers devised specialized, brutal ways to exterminate Native populations. The English were not an exception. During the late 1500s and early 1600s, they first tried and tested successfully in what is today the eastern United States their specialty: the use of scalp bounties to exterminate the region's Native populations. The age and sex of the victims usually determined what prices the bounty hunters were paid for the scalps they collected. As if prideful of their inhuman deeds, English colonial officials left behind for posterity very detailed records of how they used such barbarous methods to virtually cleanse that area of North America of its original inhabitants. Their efforts proved so successful that by 1749 many of these once independent and proud peoples were wiped out or reduced to pitiful beggars. A similar fate awaited the Mi'kmaq. Two years after Great Britain and France signed the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713, which transferred to British control French colonial interests in Nova Scotia, the Mi'kmaq entered into a fight with Great Britain for the survival of their civilization that lasted for 50 years. That fight began in 1715 when, in an attempt to assert British control over the Mi'kmaq and thus the colony, two English officers met with the Mi'kmaq Chiefs to inform them of the terms of the Treaty and how it would apply to their people. The Chiefs, responding in anger to these dictates, asserted that they did not come under the Treaty and that they would not accept George I as their sovereign. Nor would they recognize the King as owner of their country. Further fueling the Chiefs' anger, the officers laid out the long-term intentions of the British: they proposed that the Mi'kmaq allow British settlement in their villages for the purpose of creating one people. The Mi'kmaq immediately rejected this outrageous request to submit to extinction through assimilation. The question of why the British did not then immediately start using scalp bounties to bring the Mi'kmaq in Nova Scotia to heel has never been answered. My guess is that they still considered the Mi'kmaq to be too powerful a force to be dealt with in such a manner. Their restraint lasted until 1744. At that time, after decades of waging an undeclared war with the Mi'kmaq, the colonial governments of Massachusetts and Nova Scotia formally declared war upon the Mi'kmaq Nation. As part of these declarations bounties were offered for the first time in Nova Scotia for the scalps of the Mi'kmaq and any whites who aided them. Prices varied for the scalps of men, women, and children. This "legal" hunt ended with the 1748 signing of the Treaty of Aix-la- Chapelle. In early 1749, under direction of Lord Halifax, Commissioner of the British Lords of Trades and Plantations, Britain implemented a plan to settle more Protestants in Nova Scotia. The Lords named Edward Cornwallis to lead this effort. He, with a large contingent of settlers and military personnel, landed in Nova Scotia on June 26, 1749. He immediately began building a settlement at Chebucto Harbour, which was later re-christened Halifax in honour of the Commissioner. At first, the Mi'kmaq greeted the new arrivals with open arms. Here is how one settler described their reception in a letter home: When we first came here, the Indians, in a friendly manner, brought us lobsters and other fish in plenty, being satisfied for them by a bit of bread and some meat. If Cornwallis had at this time chosen to deal with the Mi'kmaq in a respectful manner, I firmly believe that peace would have prevailed. However, he did not.In early September of 1749, Cornwallis sent several English officers to meet with the Mi'kmaq Chiefs to tell them that they must now accept the King's sovereignty over their land, and that they must submit to his rule. When the Mi'kmaq refused, war broke out once again. On October 1, 1749, Cornwallis called together members of his Council to deal with the situation. They decided that to declare war against the Mi'kmaq would tacitly acknowledge them as a free and independent people. Instead, they chose to treat them like criminals, as rebels against His Majesty's government. It was then decided that a bounty would be offered for any Mi'kmaq, including women and children, taken or killed. To carry out these genocidal intentions, the Council locally raised a company of 50 volunteers for immediate field action. And, during the winter months, they recruited a company of 100 bounty hunters in New England to join with Goreham's Rangers, a Massachusetts Bay colonial militia stationed in Nova Scotia, to scour the province for human prey. In a letter defending his action to the Lords of Trade and Plantations in London, Cornwallis wrote that his intention was to remove the Mi'kmaq forever from Nova Scotia. The Lords wrote back that "by filling the minds of bordering Indians with ideas of our cruelty" that Cornwallis might cause the tribes to unite and carry out a general continental war against the Europeans. Despite his best efforts, Cornwallis failed in his bid to exterminate the Mi'kmaq. But, even after a "burying of the hatchet" ceremony in 1761, the Mi'kmaq were victimized at various times over the next two centuries by starvation, malnutrition, and other indignities. Today, the Mi'kmaq Nation is beginning to rise again. Was the 1749 founding of Halifax a positive event for the Mi'kmaq people? Only a white supremacist could believe that a European invasion of Mi'kmaq lands, one that practically destroyed Mi'kmaq civilization and reduced the Mi'kmaq people from a high standard of living to a starvation existence, was an improvement in their lifestyle. Therefore, the answer must be a resounding "No!" Dan Paul is a Mi'kmaq historian, author, and activist. III: The Acadians First Europeans by Richard Laurin When approaching history, the picture you get depends on what you look at: the broader the scope of any examination, the fuller the picture. This summer, there's a lot of excitement surrounding the 250th anniversary of Halifax's founding. Re- enactments will include an imagined meeting of the first British settlers with the native Mi'kmaq, who had thrived here for centuries before. But, there were other Europeans here before Edward Cornwallis set sail from England in The Sphinx in 1749. Acadian settlers had been here for well over a century. In 1604, the first French ships landed along the coast near the mouth of the LaHave River and around Canso, and here the native Mi'kmaq first greeted sailors from Europe. This was the beginning of a long and deep relationship between the Mi'kmaq and the Acadian people. For Nova Scotia, this marked the first major meeting of the "Old World" and the "New World," the first time two vastly different cultures and ways of looking at life met face to face. Very little is known about those earliest contacts, but we do know that gifts and symbols of friendship were exchanged. For the travellers from distant Europe, it must have been a comfort to be welcomed to a land and climate so different from that they had known. Over the next century and more, relations between the French and the Mi'kmaq grew warmer. That friendship must have been vital to a larger contingent of settlers that arrived from France in 1632 under the leadership of the first Lieutenant-General of Acadie, Issac de Razzilly. These early Acadians boasted names now commonplace in Nova Scotia, such as Blanchard, Comeau, LeBlanc, Belliveau, and Pettipas. Also among the passengers was Nicholas Denys, the first European entrepreneur of Acadie. He sought to serve his country – and himself – by exploiting the natural bounty offered by the fishery and forestry of the new land, employing both French immigrants and any Mi'kmaq willing to work for him, some of whom became his guides through the verdant forests. Denys recorded in his journal of how, at one of his encampments, "A feast was prepared by French and native women and children for the company on the visit of Governor de Razzilly." Some of the French peasants who arrived at LaHave in 1632 are known to have stayed there after 1636, when most went to join another Acadian settlement at Port Royal, in present-day Annapolis County. It has long been assumed that most of who chose to stay in the LaHave area did so because they were men who had made alliances with Mi'kmaq women. Surveys taken in the 1680s identify French settlers living at Port Royal, LaHave, Pubnico, Shelburne, Musquodoboit Harbour, and Lunenburg. By 1693, the overall European population approached 1,200, almost all of them on the mainland of Nova Scotia. As the eighteenth century proceeded, so did the influx from France, with little apparent conflict between the new arrivals and the Mi'kmaq. A full 60 years before Cornwallis arrived, a European was known to be resident at Halifax. He was a former sea captain named Claude Pettipas, who had long been acquainted with the Mi'kmaq through his trading activities in the Port Royal area. He married a Mi'kmaq woman, and together they raised seven children on the shores of Chebucto Harbour, surviving through the fishery and fur trading with local Mi'kmaq and the growing colonial metropolis of Boston to the south. Cornwallis repeatedly refers to previously established European settlers in his correspondence:"In 1748, 7 or 8 families are reported for ‘Chegekkouk.‘"He also mentions the presence of French families living "on each side of the bay."About 30 Acadians were employed by the new military authorities "on the Public Works, and in cutting a road from the town to the Basin of Minas. The French from the interior,"Cornwallis wrote,"engaged freely for money to square timber for the erection of the blockhouses." Sadly, Cornwallis and other military authorities tended to view with suspicion the Acadians they found here on their arrival, and this mistrust only increased as British saw their continuing good relations with the Mi'kmaq. Finally, in 1755, a new Lieutenant-Governor of the colony, Charles Lawrence, ordered the expulsion of all Acadians from the entire territory. The sufferings endured in the wake of this decree are well documented elsewhere, as are the efforts of many Acadians to remain, or return, to their ancestral Nova Scotian homes. As we see the streets of Halifax being overrun this summer with costumed "redcoats"and"press gangs,"it would do well to recall that, along with the Mi'kmaq, there were also other Europeans who played important roles in the city's early history. Richard Laurin is a guide/interpreter of Acadian history living in the Annapolis Valley. Cover photo of Citadel Hill, courtesy Nova Scotia Department of Economic Development and Tourism. Acadian peasant woman, courtesy Public Archives of Nova Scotia. Mi'kmaq elder, courtesy Sulian Herney. "Rustic" line drawing from Nova Scotia: A Pictoral History. back to top Moving Community Economic Development Forward Early last year, the Coastal Communities Network (CCN) held a series of regional workshops that led up to a major community economic development (CED) conference in May, 1998 at White Point, Queens County entitled "Building Our Future: Respecting Our Past." In the process, a total of 550 Nova Scotians voiced their ideas and concerns about the way forward for CED. The Conference Report identified the strengths and challenges facing CED, and an action plan to promote it in coastal and rural Nova Scotia. Now, CCN is working to move the CED process further. Since early June, CCN's Mary DesRoches has been conducting a "Rural Revitalization Road Show," a series of sixteen workshops across the province to bring the White Point recommendations back to the grass-roots and so give people in rural and coastal communities an opportunity to assess them and share their ideas on where we go from here. One of the issues being discussed is local community groups forming a number of regional CED networks across the province. Funding for the "Road Show" has been provided by Human Resources Development Canada, and it's expected that the sixteen workshops will be completed by early July. The sixteen regions are: Industrial Cape Breton, Strait-Richmond. Highlands-Inverness-Victoria, Guysborough, Antigonish, Pictou, Colchester, Cumberland, Halfax-East, Halifax-West, Hants, Kings, Digby- Annapolis, Yarmouth, Shelburne, and Lunenburg-Queens. For more information, phone Mary DesRoches at 538-8199. And, check out the pages of the next issue of Coastal Communities News. NOTICE The Nova Scotia Citizens for Community Development Society is proposing to hold a conference aimed at celebrating our past and embracing our future. The sessions will focus on reinvesting in community and community capacity building. The gathering is tentatively scheduled for Oct. 21-23 at Centre 200 in Sydney. "We hope to attract more than 300 citizens, community workers, and others involved in community development who wish to learn from one another, share their experiences, and work together to analyze what is happening in the field of community development,"says Jo Ann Fewer, President of the Society. The Society, which currently has 120 members, was formed in 1998 in an effort to encourage and support locally driven action to make Nova Scotia's communities better places to live and work. The format of the conference will be participational, with a strong focus on plenary sessions, workshops, panel discussions, and small, informal working groups. Participants are expected from all four Atlantic provinces, Quebec, and the northeastern United States. If you'd like a registration package or additional information, please write to the Conference Coordinator, Rising Tide Co-op, P.O. Box 1484, Antigonish, NS, B2G 2L7, E-Mail : brenda.mackinnon2@ns.sympatico.ca or phone (902) 863-5040. back to top Ballast Water Hitching a Ride: Hazards in the Harbour? by Gretchen Fitzgerald, Ecology Action Centre Ballast water carried by ocean-going vessels is a major factor in the introduction of non-native organisms to marine eco- systems. Although biological invaders might seem relatively harmless compared to other forms of pollution such as oil spills, the impact of exotic species on eco-systems can be just as devastating. International and regional initiatives are just beginning to address the problem of the discharge of ballast. Cargo ships take on ballast water to increase their stability and maneuverability when not carrying full loads. Then, when ships come into port, this ballast water is discharged before cargo is loaded. Experts estimate that, in American ports, 2,000,000 gallons (7,600,000 million litres) of ballast are dumped every hour. Every emptied hold could contain an organic cocktail of potential biological invaders that could threaten local fisheries, aquaculture, and even human health. Non-native species can have a significant impact on local eco-systems because their new environment may lack competitors and predators to keep the new populations in check. Unlike other forms of pollution, the impact of biological invaders is often difficult to assess. And, unlike other pollutants, it is virtually impossible to eradicate biological invaders once they become established. A well-known example of a bio-invader that hitched a ride in the ballast of cargo ships is the zebra mussel. When introduced to the Great Lakes in the 1980s, it caused structural damage to industrial pipes and other underwater structures. It is estimated that the zebra mussel has cost billions of dollars in damages. Because they are extremely efficient filter feeders, zebra mussels reduce the amount of food available to other species, and their presence may be linked to reductions in local fish stocks. When Leidy's comb jelly was introduced to the Black Sea from the United States in 1990, an absence of competitors and predators allowed this jellyfish-like organism to flourish. Because of the huge amount of food consumed by this exploding population, many fish fry starved. Along with over-fishing and pollution, the introduction of Leidy's comb jelly has been cited as an important factor in the collapse of commercial fisheries in the Black Sea in the 1990s. At a recent meeting of the Marine Issues Committee of the Ecology Action Centre in Halifax, Dr. Stephen Kerr, a fisheries scientist at Dalhousie University, expressed his anxiety about the lack of regulation of ballast in the Maritime region. He believes this issue is of growing concern because " the increased traffic of larger and faster ocean-going vessels makes the discharge of ballast water a significant threat to our coastal eco-systems." Large organisms such as European green crab and "green fleece"seaweed are two of the most obvious invaders of the Atlantic region, but the implications of a biological invasion are not proportional to the size of the organism introduced. The Australian government has estimated that the introduction of toxic micro-algae in ballast could cost its aquaculture industry about $180,000,000 (Cdn). In Peru, ballast water has been blamed for the introduction of a bacterium that causes cholera. Current international guidelines on ballast discharge are voluntary. Ships coming into ports are asked to exchange their ballast offshore, exchanging organism-rich coastal water with relatively lifeless water from the open ocean. Because this process causes brief destabilization of a ship, it can only be done under conditions that don't place the ship, the cargo, or the crew in danger. Also, captains and ship owners might be reluctant to regularly exchange ballast in order to extend the life of ballast pumps. The International Maritime Organization of the United Nations is working to have mandatory guidelines put in place on ballast exchange as early as next year, although the ratification process could take several years. In American ports, a lack of legally binding regulations on the discharge of ballast water recently led Secretary of the Interior Bruce Babbitt to describe the regulation of ballast water as " pitiful." According to Babbitt, the dumping of ballast is " nothing less than point pollution and should be treated as such." Beginning on July 1, 1999, ships entering American ports from foreign waters will have to report whether they have exchanged ballast offshore. But, compliance with regulations will continue to be voluntary while the American Coast Guard evaluates the effectiveness of current regulations. If the voluntary guidelines are not complied with, Washington may establish mandatory regulations by 2001. Canada has been even less active in tackling the ballast problem than the United States, where a National Invasive Species Act was established in 1996. To date, Canada has no national regulations on the in-port dumping of ballast. However, some regulations have been established on a regional basis. The United States and Canada both require ships entering the Great Lakes from outside North America to report whether they have exchanged ballast, although compliance is voluntary. The Vancouver Port Authority and the Nanaimo Harbour Commission have also encouraged open-ocean ballast exchange. Although ballast exchange may presently be the best stop-gap solution, scientists are skeptical about how effective it is in preventing the introduction of exotic marine species. Dr. Kerr believes that the hold of a ship must be completely flushed at least three times before stowaway organisms are effectively flushed out. Other solutions that have been suggested include ship-board filtration of ballast, and treatment with heat, chemicals, or radiation. Further research is needed to test the merits of these treatments. Dr. Kerr believes that innovative designs and retro-fitting of the world's commercial fleet are the best long-term ways to prevent biological invasions, and he suggests that the most effective and safe short-term solution is shore-based treatment. He adds that educating shippers not to take on ballast where known bio-invaders are present, or during phyto-plankton blooms, could also be effective. A lack of local ballast regulations could place ports in this region at a disadvantage. " The shipping industry wants a level playing field," reports Dr. Kerr, " Unregulated ports may be out- competed by other receivers because ports which are regulated would not want to receive ships from ports that do not regulate the discharge of ballast." John Turner, Harbourmaster at Saint John, New Brunswick, is currently working to assemble a group to address the problem of regulating ballast discharge in the Maritime region. It would report to the National Environmental Committee of the Marine Advisory Council, a joint committee of the Canadian Coast Guard and Transport Canada. Turner hopes to bring together scientists, marine industries, government bodies, and other concerned groups to determine guidelines on where ballast might pose a threat to local eco-systems, on identifying the origin and amount of ballast dumped locally, and on possible solutions to the ballast problem. In 1995, a study carried out by the United States National Research Council estimated that more than 3,000 species are being transported by ship around the world every day. The lack of scientific knowledge about the scale and impact of the problem of bio-invaders on the Atlantic coast is staggering. It may well be in the best interest of Atlantic ports to act to adopt tighter ballast regulations, and so create a healthier habitat for shippers while closing the door to biological invaders. back to top back to top British Columbia's Coastal Communities " Canaries in the Coal Mine" We're all familiar with the problems and possibilities facing coastal communities in Nova Scotia. But while we ponder our situation and look for avenues to the future, it's important to always remember that we're not alone. Other coastal communities face similar problems. This spring in British Columbia, more than 200 people from Pacific coastal communities gathered near Vancouver to share their common problems and opportunities at a conference focussed on the theme " Creative Solutions for Coastal Economic Development." A listing of the problems facing west-coast communities will have a familiar ring to coastal Nova Scotians. A declining fishery, increasing concentration of precious natural resources in corporate hands, concerns surrounding over-exploitation of forestry resources, confusion over what exactly different people mean when they use the very word " community," fits and starts in the ongoing process of community economic development: such issues are of as much concern in British Columbia as they are here on the Atlantic coast. The conference was the annual gathering of British Columbia's Coastal Community Network (BCCCN), a sister organization to Nova Scotia's Coastal Communities Network (CCN). Although the two organizations are structured somewhat differently and are not formally affiliated, trans-coastal links have been forged over the past few years on a number of issues of common concern. CCN Chair Arthur Bull and Communications Officer Scott Milsom both attended to share their Nova Scotian perspectives and learn something of coastal realities in British Columbia. One of those areas of common concern is, naturally enough, the fishery. The story on the west coast will have a sadly familiar ring to Atlantic ears. Highly migratory fish stocks have suffered greatly in recent years as a result of over-fishing, and the problem has been made worse by disputes with foreign (in this case American), fish harvesters. Ottawa's reaction, in large part, has been to buy out the licences of many smaller producers while concentrating control of stocks in fewer and fewer hands. In the last year alone, about 25 percent of previously active licences have been retired. One of the reactions of coastal communities that are highly dependent on these fisheries has been to become more involved in issues of community-based management of resources. " Mayors, chiefs, and community leaders from every coastal region of B.C. have developed a long-term plan to stop the erosion of the quality of life in B.C.," according to Russ Hellberg, BCCCN's Chair and Mayor of the Vancouver Island community of Port Hardy. " We need the federal and provincial governments to stop fighting and start working with communities and First Nations to rebuild our economy in the long run. We don't need short-term, reactive programs, but a forward looking, long-term solution to stop the economic decline." The meeting recommended more than two dozen resolutions to start rebuilding the economies of B.C.'s coastal communities. In the days leading up to the conference, BCCCN released a document titled The State of B.C.'s Coastal Economy that showed negative statistics on almost every major economic indicator on the Pacific coast and revealed depression-like conditions in many remote coastal regions. The conference also included a Coastal Parliamentarians meeting and reception attended by federal MPs, MLAs, and Senators, where Senator Pat Carney was honoured for her outstanding efforts to support B.C.'s coastal communities. " B.C.'s coastal communities are simply the canaries in the coal mine," says Eric Tamm, BCCCN's Executive Director. " The massive decline in the rural economy is a wake-up call to the province as a whole. If we continue down this track, our productivity and incomes will continue to decline in B.C. relative to other areas of the country. Coastal communities have a strategy to rebuild our economies. We've seen from other parts of the world that, if we focus on the long-term and focus on ‘community,‘ we can rebuild our coastal communities." The conference heard from speakers from around the world about successful rebuilding strategies in rural economies in Alaska, Norway, Scotland, and Oregon. Iain Robertson, Chief Executive of Highlands and Islands Enterprise, a Scottish Crown corporation, told the conference how Highlanders, after 200 years of population loss and economic decline, are starting to rebuild their communities through diversification and local use of resources. BCCCN representatives plan to meet with both federal and provincial officials in the coming months to press them on a number of recommendations that arose from the conference. These include: the establishment of a Coastal Task Force on Community Economic Development (CED) which will make recommendations on strengthening CED in coastal regions, on fostering the generation of local capital for small business, on coordinating the better delivery of programs and services at the community level, and on increasing more local control of fisheries and forestry resources for economic development; that provincial and federal governments implement policies to give communities greater access to the use and management of their adjacent forest and fishery resources; CED objectives must be incorporated into the Department of Fisheries and Oceans' (DFO) allocation and decision-making processes. DFO should also postpone its decision on salmon allocations until proper, local-level consultation with First Nations and communities; new methods must be devised to allow rural and First Nation communities, and small businesses in those communities, better access to investment capital; support for increased fisheries decision-making at the local level, such as an initiative on the west coast of Vancouver Island to establish a community, area-based fisheries management board. linking fisheries and other sectors to the development of community infrastructure, and maintenance of funding for infrastructure. Other recommendations from the conference include support for the development of an Internet marketing strategy for rural fishermen, support for successful " initiatives to renew the fisheries, and enhance fish, fisheries, and fish habitat," a call for the federal and provincial governments to form a committee to deal with the offshore oil-and-gas issue, the development of more science and technology projects in rural regions, and support for better ferry service in northern B.C. Almost all of these issues find a familiar echo in the small towns and villages that pepper Nova Scotia's shores. We cannot but gain strength by learning more of both the difficulties and opportunities facing coastal communities elsewhere in Canada and around the world. It is to that very end that CCN's Annual General Big Event, to be held at Tatamagouche on August 13-15, will be focussed on the theme " Broadening Our Alliances: Energizing Our Communities." Friends from British Columbia will be there, and once again we can all gain strength from knowledge of one another's reflections and experience. As well, people from coastal and rural communities across the province will share their own perspectives on improving community life here on Atlantic shores. Circle the dates on your calendar, and plan to attend. The process of learning from one another is never-ending. Ecology Action Centre's 1999 Sustainable Communities Award Winner The Mi'kmaq Fish and Wildlife Commission The Mi'kmaq Fish and Wildlife Commission (MFWC) is an excellent example of a community-oriented organization that combines the three key features of a Sustainable Communities Award winner: an emphasis on local-level economic development, environmental and ecological sensitivity, and a strong sense of community. The MFWC was formed by the Assembly of Nova Scotia Chiefs to coordinate and facilitate the use and management of natural resources –: including fish, forests, and wildlife – by Mi'kmaq people in Nova Scotia. One of the central objectives of the Commission is to " improve management of food resources for the benefit of communities today and for the Mi'kmaq in generations to come." This is carried out through province-wide efforts and community-level activities, all guided by a set of principles known as Netukilmk, which reflects Mi'kmaq tradition, culture, and understanding of nature. Within this framework, natural resources are used " for the self-support and well-being of the community and its members. Harvesters take only what is necessary to meet the needs of their Family/Band." The Environment and Development Committee is impressed with the range of accomplishments achieved by the Commission, and with the work of community-based bodies associated with it, over a relatively short period of time. These include: community development of harvesting plans for resources as diverse as eels, moose, and trees; enhancing the sense of responsibility for conservation among Mi'kmaq harvesters; the incorporation of ecosystem-based thinking within the fabric of resource management; the implementation of training programs, such as a program to improve harvesting and safety practices among Mi'kmaq fish harvesters; studies of traditional ecological knowledge – the knowledge of the natural world accumulated over time by harvesters and communities – among Guysborough County Mi'kmaq; participatory research involving Mi'kmaq harvesters and communities, as well as joint work with non-native organizations, such as an upcoming study of Bay of Fundy lobster resources; public education, including a newsletter sent to all Mi'kmaq households, and participation in public meetings that build a strong base of support for Commission efforts and traditional Mi'kmaq concepts of resource management. For more information about the Ecology Action's Centre's Environment and Development Committee or the Sustainable Communities Award, contact Committee spokesperson Tony Charles at 420-5732. For more information about the Mi'kmaq Fish and Wildlife Commission, contact Executive Director Chris Milley, or Commission Chair Kerry Prosper, at 386-2828. back to top Lobstering for Dummies by Scott Milsom For most people, a big feed of lobster is a special treat. When most Nova Scotians want such a meal, they're likely to get their lobster from a local pound, or even from the neighbourhood grocery store. As we enjoy the delectable fare, few of us trouble to spare much thought for the manner in which the prized crustacean has made its way from the ocean floor to our hungry tummies. Of course, anyone who travels the shore-side roads of the province can't fail but to spy some of the thousands of Cape Islanders and other small boats that harvest most of this rich resource. When they see a small lobster boat sailing from a wharf on a deep blue sea, most visitors, and even most urban Nova Scotians who aren't well acquainted with day-to-day life in our small coastal communities, think of words such as " picturesque" or " quaint." Indeed, our provincial tourism literature has long been peppered with such expressions. But what's the real, on-the-water reality of harvesting lobster off Nova Scotian shores? I confess to a Halifax birth and residence and so, although I've spent a good part of my work and leisure life exploring almost every nook and cranny of my much-loved province, I'm hardly qualified to answer that question. Sure, I've read about the vital economic contribution the lobster industry continues to make to the province and its small communities. I know that it's because of the amazing strength of the lobster market that total annual seafood exports from the province have been hitting record levels in recent years, despite the terrible state of the groundfishery. But I'm not the guy, nor is this the article, to give you a complete picture of how Nova Scotia's lobster harvesters earn their keep. It was in spite of my limitations that I accepted kind invitations from two harvesters in different parts of the province to accompany each of them for a day of hauling lobster traps. The first to put up with me for a day was Glen Richardson. Together with his wife, Norma, we made up a trio as, just after a beautiful Sunday May dawn, we walked down to his wharf in Harrigan Cove on the Eastern Shore. His vessel, the Lady Donna II, is a bit larger than most lobster boats, which are typically between 30 and 40 feet in length. It's also a bit unusual because Glen has arranged wood framing around the stern and put plastic sheeting up to provide a small shelter relatively free of the elements. He's done this because, in addition to lobster fishing, he also has a sea urchin licence. This relatively new fishery serves the Asian market and is carried out by divers in the fall of the year, when the weather is often rough and a safe haven a necessity. Glen's lobster licence costs him about $400 a year in fees and allows him 250 traps, and we spend from just after dawn until mid-afternoon to reach, haul, clean, re-bait, and re-set each one of them. (In this, I am a mere spectator: both Glen and Norma are far more able and skilled at such work than this city boy will ever be.) The location of each of Glen's traps is identified by an un-numbered buoy painted a particular colour that allows Glen and others fishing in the same area to tell the ownership of each trap at a glance. To haul one of his traps, Glen uses a gaff to grab its buoy, then wraps the attached rope around a hydraulic winch that brings the trap from its resting place, typically in two to six fathoms of water, to boat-side. He then hauls it aboard and places it at a convenient work-station arranged for the purpose. Next, he uses wire-cutters to remove a small clip that he has attached to the door of each trap. (When finished with each trap, he will put a fresh clip on its door. If a clip is missing, Glen will know that someone else has hauled and opened his trap. Such thievery, however, is far from commonplace, and on this day, as on most, Glen would find all his traps unmolested.) Once the trap is safely aboard and opened, Glen removes any lobsters that might be inside, and passes them to Norma. Lobsters, however, aren't the only beasties that can find their way into a trap: most contain between one and twenty crabs (both jonah and snow crab feed in these waters), and a few traps surprise us with a flounder or sculpin. Glen tosses each of these writhing critters over the side, and few seem any the worse for wear. He then uses mackerel to re-bait the trap, secures its door, and lowers it back to the seabed for another day of chance. To repeat this process 250 times is, to say the least, a full day's work. If one's ideas of lobstering had been formed through reading tourism literature, perhaps the biggest surprise one would notice in this whole process is the traps themselves. Although a few people along our coasts still use the traditional wooden traps that are now more numerous in seafood restaurants and craft shops than in the water, most people, like Glen, have shifted to more durable traps made of plastic-coated wire. These can vary in size, colour, and shape, but most, like Glen's, are rectangular (about 4.5 feet by 2 feet), and less than a foot high. Lobsters (and other creatures) enter through openings in the side of the trap, and internal meshing makes it difficult for the sought-after crustaceans to escape. There is also a small compartment near the middle of the trap for bait. The door is secured with a hooked, rubberized " bungie cord," as well as by Glen's metal clamp. Glen uses white, yellow, and dark-coloured traps, and swears that his white ones routinely yield more lobster than the others. As he takes each lobster from its trap, Glen is careful to check for any egg-bearing females. These are easily identified by looking to the underside of the tail and checking for egg mass, which to my untrained eyes appear somewhat like blackberries. Such lobsters are called " berried" females, and landing one is as illegal as it is stupid. Throughout this day, Glen carefully returns six such animals to the deeps. Glen fishes in Lobster Fishing Area (LFA) 32, and the Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) has recently increased the minimum legal lobster size there by 1/16 of an inch, to 3 5/16, as measured from the back of the beast's eye to the end of its main body shell. Both Glen and Norma have a good eye for judging the legality of each animal, though on occasion Norma will use a measuring device to determine whether the lobster will be taken ashore or returned to the water. On this day, I witness 35 little-lobster liberations. Through years of buying, cooking, and eating lobster, I, of course, have noticed the little elastic bands that keep the live lobsters' claws shut. But before my trip with Glen and Norma, I'd never given much thought to them beyond thinking that, at some stage in the process of getting them to market somebody must have banded them to prevent bonehead consumers like myself from losing a finger between cash register and stove top. Well, today I would find enlightenment on this matter. Those little elastics are called " lobster plugs" (or " lobster bands" in some areas), and they're put on the claws before the lobsters are thrown in the " keepers" bin. Many lobsters are territorial, and will attack an adjacent animal. Some, left without other food, will look to what's at hand: enough said about the " why" of the matter. The " how" is less gruesome. My keen survival skills quickly taught me that the only way to approach an un-banded lobster is from behind, and, at least for me, it has to be when he's not ready for you. The trick is to grab both claws from behind, and bring them together with the firm grip of one hand. Then, taking in the other hand a special tool designed for the job, you spear one of the little plugs, press the tool (sort of the way you'd press a pair of pliers), to expand the elastic, surround the claw with it, and twist the device to clear it from the secured claw. Repeat with the other claw. Standing there hour after hour watching Glen work traps and Norma assure a steady supply of fresh bait didn't promise much boost for my sense of self-worth, so I sought salvation in the banding process. I learned something of the difficulty of spearing the tiny plugs, of pressing the tool in such a way that the expanding elastic doesn't shoot across the deck, and about the joys of twisting the tool at the right moment so it separates cleanly from the freshly secured claw. I admit that I lost a few plugs overboard, and every few minutes I'd check to see how many of my plugs had ended up elsewhere than around a lobster claw, but to have just watched Glen would've exhausted me. And this was a huge challenge. In all, we were out about eight hours on a very calm sea. (The difficulty of working in rough seas, as lobster harvesters often do, is something I can only imagine.) In all, Glen hauled 242 traps to land 70 market-sized lobsters. According to Glen, " This season, the weather has been fantastic, the catches have been good, and the prices are up." It looks like another good year for lobster harvesters on the Eastern Shore, but if my day-trip in the Lady Donna II is any indication, there'll be an awful lot of very hard work done before it's over. One Friday afternoon a couple of weeks after my trip with Glen and Norma, I find myself heading to Caribou, Pictou County to catch the ferry for Pictou Island. Kirk Munro, who fishes from the island, has invited me out for a day on the water with he and his brother Tom. Pictou Island is different in many ways from most of Nova Scotia's other coastal communities: for one thing, if you find yourself there, it's only because you must have made an effort to do so. Pictou Island isn't on the way to anywhere else, and I greatly enjoyed the 40-odd minute ferry ride on the mid-sized vessel that plies the crossing to and from the mainland. The island's snug little harbour shelters almost a dozen lobster boats when we arrive just before suppertime. I'll spend the night on the island at Kirk and Tom's place before we set out to sea the next morning. I'm anxious to explore both the similarities and the differences of lobstering in the Northumberland Strait and along the Eastern Shore and, during a pleasant social evening, I tell the genial brothers about my earlier experiences with Norma and Glen. Although there are no DFO regulations on the matter, Kirk is a bit surprised when I tell him that it's not at all unusual along the Eastern Shore to fish on Sundays. " Here, we all take Sunday off, he says. If somebody went out on a Sunday here, it would be like one guy grabbing a bigger piece of the same pie that's available to all of us. I tell you, somebody like that wouldn't be very popular. Although, if there were some circumstances, health or family or something like that, that had made him miss out on fishing, and the rest of us had all managed to get out over the previous two or three days, then, I think people would understand that. After that much time missed, he'd have to get to his traps. That's happened before." I then ask whether or not skipping Sunday usually makes for a double catch on the Monday. " No," Tom tells me, " but I think on a Monday we usually get something like half as much again as on a weekday." During the course of the evening, Kirk also tells me that his annual licence fee of just over $400 entitles him to set up to 300 traps, although he currently has only about 275 in the water. It wasn't until about 8:00 a.m. the next morning that the three of us made our way down to the wharf, where Kirk's 34-foot fibreglass boat, the Never Ready, was the only island-based vessel not yet out on the water. In a matter of minutes, though, we'd pulled out from shore and the first difference between lobstering here and on the Eastern Shore soon became apparent. Here, there are far more traps in the water, and the sea around Pictou Island is peppered with thousands of colourful, numbered marker buoys. Obviously, the warmer waters of the Northumberland Strait foster a much more bountiful lobster fishery. And another big difference between fishing here in LFA 26A and in Glen's area is that lobster measuring as little as 2 19/32 inches, almost three-quarters of an inch smaller than in Glen's area, may be landed. The reality behind these measurements is that in Glen's area lobsters are left to grow to a weight of a pound or more before being harvested, while in the Northumberland Strait they are routinely landed weighing half that, or even less. (Many Northumberland lobster harvesters have been trying for years to have the minimum size increased, without success.) This is the only area of Nova Scotia where these smaller " canners" are caught. Another smaller difference on this trip is that Kirk doesn't bother with the security clips Glen uses, so the moment a trap is on board, it's immediately ready to be cleaned by any available hand. But the biggest on-the-water difference between going out with Glen and with Kirk is that here, rather than there being one trap per trawl line, up to seven traps might be attached to a single trawl. Kirk's average trawl line has about five. This makes for a much busier boat than on my earlier trip, because with, say, a half-dozen traps sitting on the rail as a result of a single trawl hauled, there's all of a sudden a lot of work to be done in a very short time. And, although my urban background made me feel a little bit like " a fish out of water" in the present setting, I was anxious that this fact not appear too obvious. So, I donned gloves and oilskins and put my hands to work cleaning out traps alongside my companions. (Baiting a trap, however, still seemed a bit out of my league, and this I left to the others, probably to their great relief!) And so we worked away for several hours, Kirk navigating the boat and hauling the trawls with the hydraulic winch, Tom hooking the trawl lines, and me trying to neither get in the way nor appear completely useless. After a while, I was even able to delude myself into thinking that perhaps I was being of some actual use. Although I had little real confidence in this thought, I enjoyed an inward smile when imagining that those on board the scores of other boats passing us close by in the course of the day wouldn't be quite near enough to judge my real level of competence, and so might suppose that I really knew what I was doing. Kirk and Tom use a little tote board (sort of like a cribbage board) to keep track of which numbered trawl lines have been hauled and which remain to be done. Just before 2:00 p.m., with only five trawls still un-hauled, Kirk's winch malfunctioned, calling an end to the day's fishing. Indeed, this wasn't the first mechanical malfunction during the course of my expedition with the Munro brothers. The week before I had driven to Caribou where they had planned to pick me up at the wharf in late afternoon, but this plan was thwarted by the Never Ready's engine failure earlier in the day. And, the day before I made it out on the water, just as Kirk arrived at the Pictou Island wharf to meet the ferry and take me back to the Munro house, his truck reacted to my presence by springing a huge leak in its gas tank. I felt that somehow I'd been responsible for these mishaps, but as each of them arose, both of the Munro brothers would smile and say to me, " Ah, it's all part of fishing," and take the misfortune in good stride. On arrival back at the Pictou Island wharf, Kirk's buyer was patiently waiting, and the day's catch was weighed in at 121 pounds of canners ($4.25 per pound) and 33 pounds of markets ($5.50 per pound). Because the next day was a non-working Sunday that Kirk wanted to spend on the mainland, he took me (and several others) back to Caribou in the Never Ready, where I thanked both he and Tom for their hospitality. On Monday, I'd be back at work in my Halifax office, but I was glad to have been able to get at least a taste of the way thousands of Nova Scotians living in our coastal communities earn their livelihood. My recounting of these two trips on the water, was not, as I mentioned at the outset, designed to give any broad-ranging overview of what it's like to fish lobster in Nova Scotia. Different regulations apply in different LFAs. Geographic and weather conditions vary. Catch rates change from year to year, from week to week, and from day to day. Market prices and input costs rarely stay the same for two weeks running. Traditions vary from cove to cove. A thousand competing factors make work on each boat unique. So, there are really thousands of stories that make up the full tale of lobstering in Nova Scotia. These are just two of them. Sacrifices of Duty by Scott Milsom Whenever you discuss the taste of lobster with a Maritimer, you can bet the farm that you'll be told, in no uncertain terms, that those taken from waters lying closest to that person's place of birth yield up the most flavourful crustaceans in all the world. It will probably also be explained to you that any contrary opinion is simply misinformed. And that's only if you're not told that such heretical opinions are deliberately malicious. And so, when I was asked to sample lobster taken from different areas of the province and then write about it, I felt in something of a conundrum. It wasn't just that I'd never taken my hand to culinary journalism before. It was much more because my work leads me to talk with people in all corners of the province, and if I were widely known as a traitor to any particular area, I'd be at considerable disadvantage. But, in the interests of journalistic integrity, I determined to soldier on. During the course of my visits with Norma and Glen on the one hand, and Kirk and Tom on the other, I found myself sitting at table with refreshment in hand while others boiled water, then cooked lobster, and finally laid a meal in front of me. (Nice work if you can get it!) One day Norma put a lobster of just under a pound-and-a-half in front of me, while a couple weeks later Kirk almost precisely repeated Norma's action. Both animals had full, meaty tails, knuckles, and claws, which, in exact order, are my favourite parts of a lobster. Both were served with bread and melted butter, just as I most enjoy it. Both times I ate till completely satisfied. So, which was better? Well, I've never met a lobster I didn't like, and, using my usual criterion – the fullness of the meat in the shell – there was little to choose between the two delicious meals. Norma served hers to me on newspaper, and so she gets points for no-nonsense common sense. But Kirk served his with a nice glass of wine that well complemented the meal, so he gets points for his knowledge of the mixing of wine and food. After I'd devoured Norma's lobster, she took the meat out of another, broke it into mouth-sized pieces, and fried it lightly in butter, a preparation I'd not tasted before, but was delighted with as I somehow managed to find room for it my already-full stomach. However, I think it unfair to slight the entire population of Pictou County simply because Kirk had apparently run out of butter. Sadly, my investigations remain incomplete, though I'm firmly of the opinion that the question of where the best lobsters come from is something that urgently deserves further attention. And so, in the interests of the integrity of my profession, I pledge to move heaven and earth to advance my inquiries with the greatest possible speed. I strongly urge readers to keep looking to these pages for further developments on this vital regional issue. (Boy, I sure hope there are further developments on this vital regional issue!) back to top Coastal Communities News Acknowledgements Coastal Communities News is published bi-monthly by the Coastal Communities Network, a non-profit society registered in the province of Nova Scotia. Coastal Communities News is made possible by the generous efforts of many volunteers, and by financial contributions from Human Resources Development Canada, and by donations and in-kind contributions from the Nova Scotia Department of Education and Culture, as well as from member groups and organizations. We welcome all articles and submissions, from individuals and groups, with content in keeping with the role and nature of this magazine. We reserve the right to edit all submissions. Except where additional credit has been given, all articles are prepared by the Editor and Editorial Board. Join the Coastal Communities Network Our Mission Statement The Coastal Communities Network is a volunteer association of organizations whose mission is to provide a forum to encourage dialogue, share information, and create strategies and actions that promote the survival and development of Nova Scotia's coastal and rural communities. "A Large Voice for Small Communities" CCN is made up of organizations rooted in Nova Scotia's coastal and rural communities, and it is the diversity of its membership that gives it strength. Your organization, and your community, can help CCN determine its direction and strengthen its voice still further. Join the Coastal Communities Network today. How to Become Involved in the Coastal Communities Network CCN's strength lies in its membership, which is made up of organizations rooted in Nova Scotia's coastal communities. The range of member organizations is very broad, including churches, fish harvester groups, municipalities, community and regional economic development agencies, unions, universities, and local community groups. CCN welcomes the participation of any organization that represents the interests of a coastal community or issue and is interested in working together with similar groups across the province. Your organization can become involved in a number of ways: — by participating in regular monthly meetings of the CCN membership. These are held in Truro (usually on the first Tuesday of each month), and allow representatives from member organizations to review what is happening in coastal communities across the province, plan actions on issues of common concern, and review progress on CCN-sponsored projects; — by getting on our mailing list to receive regular copies of Coastal Communities News. Send us your name and address by mail or fax, or call us directly; — by contributing written articles to Coastal Communities News, and so letting everyone know what's happening in your community; — by taking part in CCN workshops and information sessions. Special events like this are held on topics of importance to coastal communities (for example, community economic development, co- management in the fishery, etc); — by inquiring about CCN's resource library, which includes information, reports, and studies on topics that affect the future and sustainability of coastal communities. You may contact us at: CCN Coordinator: PO Box 1613 Pictou, N.S. B0K 1H0 Phone:(902)485-4754 Fax:(902)445-7134 e-mail:coastalnet@ns.sympatico.ca CCN Communications Office: Phone: (902) 445-7168 Fax: (902) 445-7134 e-mail:ccnews@ns.sympatico.ca back to top

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