Listen to the stories of the soil — What the soil compaction tells us about human relationships with the land
Drs. Kori Czuy (Manager, Indigenous Science Connections), Mathew Swallow (Associate Professor in Soil Sciences, Mount Royal University), and Miwa A. Takeuchi (Associate Professor in the Learning Sciences, University of Calgary) have collaboratively written an article published in The Conversation (later republished in the Globe and Mail, Phys.org, and Yahoo News).
We post the original, preprint version of this article here.
We try to imagine, from the soil’s point of view, how detrimental impacts from the colonial legacy could have been. A visual history of this land over the past 75 years can be readily seen using the Calgary Imagery database. Until 2009, the soil experienced the extractive effects of degenerative agriculture. The cycle of harvest likely involved the disruptive effects of annual soil tillage, vehicle traffic and the application of biocides for plants and animals deemed as pests. In 2010, the soil likely experienced the largest occurrence — their life-rich surface was stripped and they were pressed with heavy traffic from earthmoving equipment for the construction of a highway. This event caused “soil compaction,” where the soil pores are pressed together, and the soil resembles a rock-like density similar to how the soil was following the melting of the last glaciers. In this single event, human activity reset the thousands of years that it took for the soil to be a space where life can thrive in harmony with the local climate.
However, this is a chapter but not the end of the soil’s story. Despite the compaction causing the soil’s surface to be dry and dusty, some plants still grow. Ironically, plants such as dandelions and thistles that were carried here alongside European colonization also thrive on the soil impacted by colonial legacy. There remains some of the soil of the pasture that continues to act as a refuge of native plants and animals, patiently watching the dandelions and thistles and waiting for a time when the compacted soil will be able to welcome them back. As does the soil of the nearby wetland that, despite years of being forced into agricultural production, quickly resumes their place as a home and provider to countless insects, birds, frogs, plants, and mammals when left to be itself. Over a great deal of time the compacted soil will recover, but they will never be the same. Our relationship will carry the stories of disturbance and compaction and of resilience and recovery.
As we envisage our future relationships with the soil, which is reciprocal and relational, we should let the land guide us, and we should listen to the soil as our teacher and relative. Currently, at Soil Camp, together with youth, children and teachers, we are exploring what more soil-centric relationships could look like in action. Despite their central role that soils plays in the ecosystem and for essential societal issues such as food security, school curriculum does not fully teach young minds about the soil. Without our ability to listen to the stories of the soil, we as humans might destroy the abundance of the soil which nests countless lives.
We invite you, the next time you are walking on a sidewalk, a well-used trail in an urban park, or your backyard, to take a moment to think about the land and soil under your feet. Imagine what it was like 5, 50, 5000 years ago? What or who has caused that change? Is the soil still connected with its relatives the worms, leaves, squirrels? How can we as humans take action to be a better partner for the soil?