Who Wants a Stinky Swamp?

Guest Blog by Jerri Jerreat

Don’t go near there; it’s buggy (translation: rich in insect life) and dangerous (translation: fear of the unknown).

I grew up afraid of wetlands, and thought swamps, bogs, fens, peatlands and marshes were all the same, hiding quicksand or crocodiles. Yep, here in Canada.

One day I was portaging in a provincial park, Ontario, Anishnabeg territory, crossing a wood plank over mud. I glanced left.

​Between some willows was a ghostly area of trees, shrubs and wild grasses growing directly out of water, silvery green mossy plants hanging. The light fell differently in there. There were sparkles on reeds, birds racing across, splashes. Small voices spoke in keys and languages I did not know. It was where the fairies of my childhood lived.

---

“A swamp, eh?” commented the person behind me.

“That’s a swamp?” I let them pass and stood, riveted.

Recently I learned that over 40% of all plant and animal life begins or lives in wetlands. I saw a webinar by Toronto’s “Remediation Action Program,” (RAP.) They’ve been quietly restoring wetlands across the region. RAP has built rocky shoals, attached logs for turtles to rest on, planted indigenous marsh plants. They’ve worked on city streams and gullies, replanted the sides with native shrubs to hold the soil, removed invasive species, tires and plastic.

One wetland had been drained and farmed for over a century. The new owner donated the field. RAP researched, then unblocked the original creek. Water flowed back in. By the end of the summer the field was a full, diverse wetland, a mix of heritage native plants. Seeds had lain under that field for over a hundred years, but had burst into life. By fall, researchers had spotted many species of water insects, and birds arriving. Imagine their wonder when they spotted the first frog, and then fish! Fish! Volunteers pulled out invasive plants, monitered it, and went further north to help the source creek.

It made me want to dance.

I’m a terrible dancer, lots of hand waving and hip shaking, no understanding of “what looks good on a dance floor.” But I love it, and regret that for adults, there aren’t enough places to dance.  Community centres need to hold dances monthly.

I digress.

Last year the swarmy Premier of Ontario and his rich cronies nixed the position of the Environmental Commissioner of Ontario, (a non-partisan watchdog to uphold the Environmental Bill of Rights.) Then he cut the power of our Conservation Authorities and opened up the Greenbelt to allow for faster “development,” over areas that had been protected. Wetlands too.

In Kingston, a rich forest had grown up bordered by a gorgeous wetland on a large property within walking distance of City Hall. Over 70 years ago a nasty factory had closed. The forest, it seems, has been healing the soil slowly. The City sold it all for a dime to a developer who wanted to clearcut the forest, (about 2000 mature trees), truck the topsoil away, cover it with clay and cement, and part of the wetland too. What for, you ask?
Riverside condos and a yacht club.

I protested to both levels of governments, of course, and was in a flotilla of canoes waving signs. I took many blurry photos of birds, turtles, the beauty of the area, and wrote letters. A group of scientists from Montréal suggested the paths be raised, and the small contaminated areas be fenced and planted to phyto-remediate them. Signs could teach people how bio-remediation works, and point out tree species, the nesting sites of a hundred turtles, and the names of the hosts of birds and creatures living there. The wetlands, absolutely teeming with life, should never be capped.

In September 2022, after our many protests and petitions, Kingston City Council voted down the clearcut and condo scheme.

I woke up one day with a sassy Wetlands dancing in my mind. She loved those geese and ducks, painted turtles and salamanders, and her friend, the Forest.

She could be any Wetland threatened by developers. Maybe one near you.

​Maybe you could help her out.

---

---

Jerri Jerreat’s writing, from Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee territory, appears in Grist/Fix: Imagine 2200 Climate Fiction; Flyway: Journal, Alluvian, Feminine Collective, Yale Review Online, The New Quarterly, Glass & Gardens Solarpunk Winters; Solarpunk Summers, & others. She has a growing pile of protest signs by the door & directs YouthImagineTheFuture.com. https://jerrijerreat.com/ Instagram: @jerrjtree