"A National Forest and Park"

We continue our journey through the human history of Algonquin, starting from where we left off here:

http://americanvoyages.blogspot.com/2012/08/an-inexhaustible-lumber-source.html

By the 1880's, immigrants and migrants alike were pushing into the previously undesirable boreal forest of the Canadian Shield.  There were many reasons for this, namely that such land was easily obtainable and cheap to purchase, but more importantly, because it now had links back to developed lands in the form of railroads and lumber company roads.

As was the case of where settlements in the United States tended to pop up, settlers favored cleared land, be it natural or the result of the timber industry passing through.   Like much of North America, northern Ontario has open grasslands, but they tend to appear as pine barrens, often dominated by Jack Pines (Pinus Banksiana) and Red Pines (Pinus Resinosa).  These were once reasonably common throughout the northern Great Lakes and Ottawa valley because the receding Laurentide Ice Sheet unleashed a torrent of melt-water that left behind plains of sand, the effect akin to what happens when you dump a bucket of water on a sloping beach.  Combined with a reasonably frequent fire regime (Jack Pines actually reproduce when their cones are opened by the heat from a forest fire) and the drier conditions provided for on the sandy plains, the forests were often rather open and home to grasses, sedges, and other fun ground cover.

Settlers initially moved into such areas and transformed them into farmland.  The soil was sandy, but it was still arable to a decent degree, and could provide decent pasture if the crops were struggling.

On the other hand, the mountains of Algonquin featured pine forests full of underbrush and maple forests with a rich carpet of seedlings, both of which were either on more of the glacier-gifted sand, or, especially for the maples, a relatively thin layer of "glacial till", this wonderful sandy-feeling gray dirt that grows majestic forests but is horrid at supporting agriculture.  This did not deter some settlers, who slowly moved into the margins of Algonquin as transportation kept getting closer.  As the McElroys point out, these individuals would go to great lengths to clear the forest and set up farms.

A stone fence in the Petawawa Research Forest.  The McElroys have a wonderful article and photos, including this one, at  http://www.mcelroy.ca/bushlog/20030917.shtml.

Settlers might have trickled in to Algonquin at this same snail's pace had nature not been trumped by the timber boom.  All of a sudden, new lands were opening, many completely clear-cut and newly accessible because of the lumber harvest.   Following valleys along the Madawaska, Bonnechere, Opeongo, Petawawa, South, and Oxtongue rivers, settlers started making their way further into Algonquin.  The timber barons became worried that their lands and easements would be encroached upon, conservationists became alarmed that one of the last wild and largely mysterious lands in southern eastern Canada would become just more farmland, and even agricultural experts wondered how much damage would be done if the headwaters of multiple rivers suddenly started becoming choked with run off.

Given that the most determined settlers were already pushing into the area even before the land was being cleared and roads were opening up, these groups started advocating for preservation.  Ironically, the timber barons were often the most vocal in keeping the area wild.  In a completely different turn of passions than were concurrently being unleashed in the United States, the timber industry advocated the creation of timber reserves and national forests!  Men such as Booth had little love for an Algonquin that would be allowed to go to seed and plow instead of regenerating forest, even if they were all in favor of the then-popular clear cuts.  Things were far from set in stone however, and the conservationists had an entirely different agenda in mind for Algonquin.  This was a land worthy of poetry and song, a land to be preserved in the manner of Yellowstone and Yosemite!  Sadly, some of the elements of the Canadian conservation movement were a pale shadow of their American counterparts, led by the environmentalist super hero Theodore Roosevelt.

Alexander Kirkwood, the chairman and commissioner of crown lands at the time of the creation of Algonquin Park.  Kirkwood was enamored by the wilderness he found there, but was also something of a pathetic naturalist.  He often described Algonquin as having open oak forests and grand populations of birds and animals that have never existed there.

Still, in a path toward preservation that was largely sparked by passion rather than sound ecological science, the Algonquin question was quickly given a Royal Commission.  In a rather Canadian move, a decision was reached by compromise and appeasement to all involved parties.  The headwaters were protected, lands were reserved for future timber contracts, and anything not used by the lumber companies was considered a game preserve.  Canada looked to be starting on a path of possible conservation along with the United States, with the same multiple usage intention that American national forests and parks were formed under (albeit with a very different genesis, to say the least).  On May 23, 1893, Algonquin became Canada's second national park (Banff was created in 1885).  What that meant, exactly, would be fought over to the present day.  Come by tomorrow as we conclude our historical journey and find out what players and elements took part in this search for meaning.