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Redd Fish Restoration Society: Working for the Watershed
“Conservation also requires restoration,” says Jessica Hutchinson, the executive director of the Redd Fish Restoration Society. “Humans have had such an impact on our planet that conservation alone is insufficient. We need to go back and undo some of the damage we’ve done.”
She’s speaking to the Ucluelet, British Columbia–based organization’s recent name change. From inception in 1995 until recently, they were the Central Westcoast Forest Society. Operating on the west coast of Canada’s Vancouver Island, they work in extremely rugged terrain through inclement weather to care for salmonid habitat. And beyond their boots-on-the-ground restoration work, Redd Fish champions a holistic approach that also prioritizes research, education and stewardship. “Not only do you want to do the work, but you want to teach people to do the work—to be able to care for the land,” Hutchinson says. Caring for the land requires a communal effort.
There’s a deep history of resource extraction on Vancouver Island. Timber harvest began there in the 1820s. From the 1950s through the 1990s, mechanized logging of old-growth forests took place unabated, destroying large swaths of ancient ecosystems once guarded by massive spruce, Douglas fir and red cedar. Abundant salmon runs—a backbone of both the ecosystem and the culture of local Indigenous peoples—diminished rapidly. Redd Fish addresses the impacts of industry by working with local communities, including the Ahousaht, Hesquiaht, Toquaht, Tla-o-qui-aht and Yuułuʔiłʔatḥ First Nations, to restore spawning habitat. It’s complicated work, and it’s the kind of work that never ends.
“A redd is a salmon’s nest,” Hutchinson says, “and the redd requires connectivity. It’s dependent upon the health of the river, the health of the forest, the health of marine ecosystems. The redd is where it all starts and where it all finishes, but everything in between must be cared for as well.”
Photos: (Top) Simone Levesque and Kaylyn Kwasecha work on a slope high above Boat Basin in the Hesquiaht territory north of Tofino, British Columbia. JEREMY KORESKI (Middle) Left: Wesley Frank carries slope stabilizing supplies down one of the many slides that Redd Fish Restoration was hired to stabilize. JEREMY KORESKI. Right: Redd Fish Restoration workers are dwarfed against a massive landslide that scars a south facing slope in Hesquiaht territory along the west coast of Vancouver Island. JEREMY KORESKI (Bottom) In Hesquiaht territory, far above the west coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Redd Fish Restoration Society has boots on the ground to stabilize landslide areas—part of their stream restoration work. JEREMY KORESKI
Redd Fish Restoration Society: Working for the Watershed
Redd Fish Restoration Society: Working for the Watershed
“Conservation also requires restoration,” says Jessica Hutchinson, the executive director of the Redd Fish Restoration Society. “Humans have had such an impact on our planet that conservation alone is insufficient. We need to go back and undo some of the damage we’ve done.”
She’s speaking to the Ucluelet, British Columbia–based organization’s recent name change. From inception in 1995 until recently, they were the Central Westcoast Forest Society. Operating on the west coast of Canada’s Vancouver Island, they work in extremely rugged terrain through inclement weather to care for salmonid habitat. And beyond their boots-on-the-ground restoration work, Redd Fish champions a holistic approach that also prioritizes research, education and stewardship. “Not only do you want to do the work, but you want to teach people to do the work—to be able to care for the land,” Hutchinson says. Caring for the land requires a communal effort.
There’s a deep history of resource extraction on Vancouver Island. Timber harvest began there in the 1820s. From the 1950s through the 1990s, mechanized logging of old-growth forests took place unabated, destroying large swaths of ancient ecosystems once guarded by massive spruce, Douglas fir and red cedar. Abundant salmon runs—a backbone of both the ecosystem and the culture of local Indigenous peoples—diminished rapidly. Redd Fish addresses the impacts of industry by working with local communities, including the Ahousaht, Hesquiaht, Toquaht, Tla-o-qui-aht and Yuułuʔiłʔatḥ First Nations, to restore spawning habitat. It’s complicated work, and it’s the kind of work that never ends.
“A redd is a salmon’s nest,” Hutchinson says, “and the redd requires connectivity. It’s dependent upon the health of the river, the health of the forest, the health of marine ecosystems. The redd is where it all starts and where it all finishes, but everything in between must be cared for as well.”
Photos: (Top) Simone Levesque and Kaylyn Kwasecha work on a slope high above Boat Basin in the Hesquiaht territory north of Tofino, British Columbia. JEREMY KORESKI (Middle) Left: Wesley Frank carries slope stabilizing supplies down one of the many slides that Redd Fish Restoration was hired to stabilize. JEREMY KORESKI. Right: Redd Fish Restoration workers are dwarfed against a massive landslide that scars a south facing slope in Hesquiaht territory along the west coast of Vancouver Island. JEREMY KORESKI (Bottom) In Hesquiaht territory, far above the west coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Redd Fish Restoration Society has boots on the ground to stabilize landslide areas—part of their stream restoration work. JEREMY KORESKI
“Humans have had such an impact on our planet that conservation alone is insufficient. We need to go back and undo some of the damage we’ve done.”
“I always feel like singing. It makes us dance and feel good as humans, so I can’t see why the plant wouldn’t enjoy it, too.”
Mahalah Farms X WWOOF-USA: Passing the Knowledge
In 1971, a Londoner named Sue Coppard had an idea to get folks outside the sooty city. Why not connect with the source of their food by lending a hand to local farmers on the weekends? “Working Weekends on Organic Farms,” or WWOOF, took root and grew. Fifty-one years later, it’s still growing—across 130 countries, with 12,000 hosts and 100,000 “WWOOFers.” Today, the acronym stands for “Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms.” You won’t find it in the dictionary, but it’s also become a verb: I WWOOF to learn about where my food comes from.
WWOOF-USA created the Future Farmers Grant in 2021 to provide financial support for aspiring farmers, especially BIPOC and farmers from marginalized communities. Recipients spend one month on a host farm of their choice, anywhere in the country, and receive a stipend to cover costs including travel, child care and time off from work.
In Cuba, Alabama, organic farmer, vegan chef and owner of Mahalah Farms Yawah Awolowo hosted Nia Harris, a 21-year-old aspiring farmer and WWOOFer. “Nia was looking to learn more about farming,” Yawah says. “Some of my techniques are a little unconventional, a bit different.” One of these techniques is leaving the grass around newly planted crops because it attracts dew. “It helps get the water to the roots of the plant,” she says.
Another unconventional practice? Talking and singing to her plants and trees. “Oh, I talk to my plants,” Yawah says. “Even if you go back to the days of sharecropping, folks were singing in the fields. I always feel like singing. It makes us dance and feel good as humans, so I can’t see why the plant wouldn’t enjoy it, too.”
Photos: (Top ) Yawah Awolowo keeps a close eye on how her plants are faring and will sing to them too to help them along. LESLIE HITTMEIER (Middle) Yawah and Yahyah Awolowo work the greenhouse with Nia Harris, a volunteer they hosted on Mahalah Farms as part of the Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF) exchange program. Cuba, Alabama. LESLIE HITTMEIER (Bottom) Yawah Awolowo shared over 60 years of organic farming knowledge with Nia Harris, a 21-year-old aspiring farmer and WWOOFer (Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms). Mahalah Farms, Cuba, Alabama. LESLIE HITTMEIER
Mahalah Farms X WWOOF-USA: Passing the Knowledge
Mahalah Farms X WWOOF-USA: Passing the Knowledge
In 1971, a Londoner named Sue Coppard had an idea to get folks outside the sooty city. Why not connect with the source of their food by lending a hand to local farmers on the weekends? “Working Weekends on Organic Farms,” or WWOOF, took root and grew. Fifty-one years later, it’s still growing—across 130 countries, with 12,000 hosts and 100,000 “WWOOFers.” Today, the acronym stands for “Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms.” You won’t find it in the dictionary, but it’s also become a verb: I WWOOF to learn about where my food comes from.
WWOOF-USA created the Future Farmers Grant in 2021 to provide financial support for aspiring farmers, especially BIPOC and farmers from marginalized communities. Recipients spend one month on a host farm of their choice, anywhere in the country, and receive a stipend to cover costs including travel, child care and time off from work.
In Cuba, Alabama, organic farmer, vegan chef and owner of Mahalah Farms Yawah Awolowo hosted Nia Harris, a 21-year-old aspiring farmer and WWOOFer. “Nia was looking to learn more about farming,” Yawah says. “Some of my techniques are a little unconventional, a bit different.” One of these techniques is leaving the grass around newly planted crops because it attracts dew. “It helps get the water to the roots of the plant,” she says.
Another unconventional practice? Talking and singing to her plants and trees. “Oh, I talk to my plants,” Yawah says. “Even if you go back to the days of sharecropping, folks were singing in the fields. I always feel like singing. It makes us dance and feel good as humans, so I can’t see why the plant wouldn’t enjoy it, too.”
Photos: (Top ) Yawah Awolowo keeps a close eye on how her plants are faring and will sing to them too to help them along. LESLIE HITTMEIER (Middle) Yawah and Yahyah Awolowo work the greenhouse with Nia Harris, a volunteer they hosted on Mahalah Farms as part of the Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF) exchange program. Cuba, Alabama. LESLIE HITTMEIER (Bottom) Yawah Awolowo shared over 60 years of organic farming knowledge with Nia Harris, a 21-year-old aspiring farmer and WWOOFer (Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms). Mahalah Farms, Cuba, Alabama. LESLIE HITTMEIER
Quail Springs Permaculture: Planting Water
In the summer of 2005, in a high-desert canyon that adjoins Central California’s Cuyama Valley, the only sign of a wetland habitat was a dozen old cottonwoods that towered over a deep and dry gully. These trees were the last survivors of a former riparian zone that Quail Springs Permaculture—a small environmental and educational nonprofit—now calls home. The creek had been wallowed out and the willows, sedge-grass meadows and young cottonwoods had been overgrazed by 75 years of free-range cattle on the land. The water was barely draining down the gullies at night and would dry up in the early days of summer.
Quail Springs’ relationship to water informs every aspect of their permaculture practice and education. This mostly female-led organization of ecologists and educators, artists and social justice advocates, goatherds and farmers relates to water not as a resource to be extracted, but as the source of life to be revered. Since 2005, they’ve adhered to a daily dedication to “planting water”—recharging the water table and restoring the natural water systems that have been disrupted.
The daily practice involves “scooching”—gently scraping and carving the banks to entice the water to spread out, bringing sinuosity back into action. The seasonal practice involves “sinking”—installing simple, hand-built shallow sandbag structures that resemble strings of horseshoes in the channel to slow the water flow. When they installed these structures along a 1,000-foot stretch last spring, puddles filled in the middle and spilled around the structures over both banks. As hoped, water slowed, spread and sank. A swiftly flowing creek one foot wide and three inches deep became a boggy area 12 feet wide and four inches deep. This caused a tenfold increase of wetted area and almost 15 times more standing water. Life sprang in to fill the newly available habitat, and, more significantly, the creek now flowed downstream farther and for longer into the dry summer.
The revitalization of the creek has made the Quail Springs Permaculture demonstration site and the small, off-grid human settlement possible. It makes their work in education and advocacy possible. But this team of trailblazers is most inspired by the return of wildlife, of the red-winged blackbird and green heron, of the puma, bear and bobcat. Where not long ago only 12 old cottonwoods stood in a drying landscape, there are now thousands. The sedge grasses have filled in all the muddy wallows and the willows are alive with the sound of songbirds.
Photos: (Top) Watershed restoration and permaculture practices allow a community of 20 permanent residents to grow food and live off-grid in one of California’s driest valleys. Quail Springs Permaculture, Cuyama Valley. COLIN MCCARTHY (Middle) At Quail Springs Permaculture, water is the precious source of all they are trying to accomplish. COLIN MCCARTHY (Bottom) Quail Springs Permaculture community member board director Jan Smith wheels udderly fresh goat milk to the community kitchen. Cuyama Valley, California. COLIN MCCARTHY
Quail Springs Permaculture: Planting Water
Quail Springs Permaculture: Planting Water
In the summer of 2005, in a high-desert canyon that adjoins Central California’s Cuyama Valley, the only sign of a wetland habitat was a dozen old cottonwoods that towered over a deep and dry gully. These trees were the last survivors of a former riparian zone that Quail Springs Permaculture—a small environmental and educational nonprofit—now calls home. The creek had been wallowed out and the willows, sedge-grass meadows and young cottonwoods had been overgrazed by 75 years of free-range cattle on the land. The water was barely draining down the gullies at night and would dry up in the early days of summer.
Quail Springs’ relationship to water informs every aspect of their permaculture practice and education. This mostly female-led organization of ecologists and educators, artists and social justice advocates, goatherds and farmers relates to water not as a resource to be extracted, but as the source of life to be revered. Since 2005, they’ve adhered to a daily dedication to “planting water”—recharging the water table and restoring the natural water systems that have been disrupted.
The daily practice involves “scooching”—gently scraping and carving the banks to entice the water to spread out, bringing sinuosity back into action. The seasonal practice involves “sinking”—installing simple, hand-built shallow sandbag structures that resemble strings of horseshoes in the channel to slow the water flow. When they installed these structures along a 1,000-foot stretch last spring, puddles filled in the middle and spilled around the structures over both banks. As hoped, water slowed, spread and sank. A swiftly flowing creek one foot wide and three inches deep became a boggy area 12 feet wide and four inches deep. This caused a tenfold increase of wetted area and almost 15 times more standing water. Life sprang in to fill the newly available habitat, and, more significantly, the creek now flowed downstream farther and for longer into the dry summer.
The revitalization of the creek has made the Quail Springs Permaculture demonstration site and the small, off-grid human settlement possible. It makes their work in education and advocacy possible. But this team of trailblazers is most inspired by the return of wildlife, of the red-winged blackbird and green heron, of the puma, bear and bobcat. Where not long ago only 12 old cottonwoods stood in a drying landscape, there are now thousands. The sedge grasses have filled in all the muddy wallows and the willows are alive with the sound of songbirds.
Photos: (Top) Watershed restoration and permaculture practices allow a community of 20 permanent residents to grow food and live off-grid in one of California’s driest valleys. Quail Springs Permaculture, Cuyama Valley. COLIN MCCARTHY (Middle) At Quail Springs Permaculture, water is the precious source of all they are trying to accomplish. COLIN MCCARTHY (Bottom) Quail Springs Permaculture community member board director Jan Smith wheels udderly fresh goat milk to the community kitchen. Cuyama Valley, California. COLIN MCCARTHY
