Private Project
On Nochaway
My grandparents farmed soybeans, peanuts, and of course pines, along with the other usual suspects found around Baker County, Georgia, but once fallow, the fields gradually fell to disrepair.
Many years ago on a visit, my father led me on one of his “shortcuts” from the house back to our campsite along the Ichawaynochaway Creek, which resulted in an abundance of scratches from green briars, sticker bushes and an unnamable list of other scrubby, prickly things. You couldn’t see through it, much less walk through it. It never occurred to me that this land that was inhospitable to me was equally as inhospitable to all wildlife aside from those small enough to be unfazed by the dense world. Having grown up in south Georgia, scraggly slash and loblolly pines and scrubby brush seemed to be the natural state for this neck of the woods. Turns out, it isn’t.
Before the 20th century, pines ruled—not the fast-growing, scrawny species preferred for pulp. Shaped by frequent, low-intensity fires, longleaf developed fire-resistant characteristics that would allow them to thrive, forming one of the most extensive ecosystems in North America. Stalwart and slow-growing, longleaf provided an open understory for endemic wildlife, but decades of logging and fire suppression led this ecosystem to become one of the most endangered and fragmented in the country.
With a lifespan of 300-400 years, this native conifer once covered 90 million acres across the Southeast. Its decline continues to this day with just 3% of peak range remaining. Able to withstand severe windstorms, resist pests, tolerate wildfires and drought and capture carbon from the atmosphere, longleaf are naturally more resilient to climate extremes than other southern pine species and therefore the best candidate for restoration to fight the effects of climate change.
Early European settlers in the South quickly learned from American Indians the benefits of using fire to keep forest understory open, but by the late 19th century, over-logging and subsequent wildfires left millions of acres bare. The resulting negative perception of fire led to a federal policy of suppression. However, beginning in the 1970s, southeastern landowners returned to the practice of using controlled burns to manage land and prevent wildfires. Over the last twenty years, non-federal entities in the Southeast carried out 70% of all prescribed burns in the US, while the Forest Service even in recent years has burned only about 1% of its nearly 200 million acres. With fire managers, particularly in the West, currently struggling with more frequent and extreme wildfires, the USFS is considering amending its practices to facilitate more prescribed fires.
Significantly transformed after only a short time, my family’s farm is home to a growing number of native plant and animal species, including the protected gopher tortoise. A keystone species, approximately 360 other species, several of which are also legally protected, use their burrows. The benefits of forest restoration, thereby, compound exponentially throughout the entire food web supporting a rich and essential ecosystem.
Similarly, each positive story shared spreads beyond its own boundaries and becomes one part of a larger constructive force. This work aims to represent the potential for documentary photography to effect change and inspire others to join the path forward.
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