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Down on the farm
Monday, 14 March 2005
Cyril Doll
On Boxing Day 2003, just after suppertime, a taxicab rolled up the gravel trail that runs through Charonne Regan’s cattle ranch in St. Paul County, Alta., about 195 km northeast of Edmonton. The car pulled off onto the shoulder and the driver and passenger got out. Then, using some loose hay that had been lying by the roadside, the two strangers started a fire.
Luckily for Regan, she smelled the smoke and managed to douse the fire before it spread to nearby hay bales, and chase the malicious trespassers away. Then, after midnight, under cover of darkness, the two returned and tried again. If Regan hadn’t, once more, got there in time, the flames would have burned 300 bales of her hay, the entire supply she had to feed her cattle through the winter. Three days later, a quarter horse mare went missing from Regan’s farm. It later was found dead, down by the trail half a mile from her house.
In the three years since an abandoned CN rail line, which bisects Regan’s property, was converted into a public trail, the rancher says she has lost thousands of dollars due to property damage and theft. The gates that hold her cattle are constantly being opened by mischievous passersby; last spring someone pulled her fence down, allowing 200 of her green yearling steers to roam free. It took weeks to rustle them up. “It goes on and on, and then for two weeks you have no [incidents], and then next thing you know, your cows are on the road and in your neighbours’ land,” says the frustrated property owner. “I feel uneasy all the time; I don’t know what’s happening on my own property.”
Though the rancher has the right to maintain and protect her own land, she is powerless to control who uses the strip of gravel that runs across it--and what they do there. Hundreds of miles of abandoned Crown-owned rail lines that criss-cross the Canadian countryside have dozens of other farmers facing the same aggravation. And the growing tension between country dwellers and Ottawa doesn’t end there. Farmers are being increasingly provoked as the feds encroach on their land in other ways, too: cordoning off certain areas of privately owned property in the interest of science, or because of the presence of certain protected species. Provincial laws have become tougher on the type and amount of materials that farmers use on their crops, while federal laws, like the gun registry, regulate their lifestyle.
Rural property owners are calling it an assault on rural Canada, with politicians and bureaucrats making it harder to live in the country. And more and more property owners across Canada are getting angry. In one Ontario county just south of Ottawa, a group of farmers has united as the Lanark Landowners Association, taking matters into their own hands. They’ve held illegal beef and produce sales throughout the county in defiance of government regulations that require them to obtain permits. They’ve shut down provincial government offices by blocking the doors with 600-pound bales of hay. On Feb. 18, in a demonstration being called “Stop the Destruction” (of the rural lifestyle, that is), an LLA convoy of 50 tractors and 220 other vehicles slowed traffic to a crawl on the massive 401 highway along the Quebec/Ontario border for four hours. The same group had blocked traffic along the 401 near Cardinal, Ont., on Feb. 4 and used two tractors and a truck to block an American border crossing near Prescott, Ont., for five hours. On Jan. 21, another convoy, 200 vehicles strong, blocked the 401 near Tillsonburg, Ont., for seven hours.
The LLA is calling the actions a “Rural Revolution” and says that, beyond just putting an end to the web of regulations that is stifling the rural way of life, they want to see property owners’ rights enshrined in Canada’s Charter of Rights and Freedoms, as they are in the U.S. Constitution. “When that Charter of Rights and Freedoms was repatriated into our Constitution, that paved a path for injustice to follow,” states Randy Hillier, the outspoken president of the LLA. “Unwittingly, we all at the time believed government was good and benevolent and that they would never choose to harm its citizens. And if they did they would quickly resolve that. But that was a false premise.”
One day, when a couple of deer hunters showed Lanark County farmer John Vanderspank a map they had obtained of his land, he was shocked to see marked on it an area of natural scientific interest (ANSI). An ANSI is any area of land or water that Ontario considers to have research, educational or even historical value--ranging from habitats of plant life or animals to interesting rocks or glacial-formations. “Well, I’ve owned this land for 20 years and didn’t know that I had an ANSI,” says Vanderspank, who is also a founding member of LLA. “It wasn’t there when I bought the land.” If it had been, after all, it might not have been worth as much. That’s because an ANSI comes complete with all kinds of onerous regulations that can make it hard for landowners to fully use their property, including buffer zones that actually prohibit development. Vanderspank’s lawyer checked the original title deed and couldn’t find an ANSI designation. It wasn’t until he went down to the township office and had office workers “dig deep into their computers” that he found out that, indeed, of his roughly 1,000 acres of land, the government had sectioned off a 30-acre egg-shaped parcel as an area of scientific interest, with a 400-foot buffer around it.
Unlike the fifth amendment of the U.S. Constitution--which guarantees that no person shall “be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use without just compensation”--Canada’s charter is silent on the issue of property rights. While that doesn’t mean Canadians don’t have any--there is, after all, common law, which provides significant property rights protection--it means that Canadians are at a big disadvantage when it’s the government that wants to start messing with their property. And no one feels that more than those who live in the countryside and depend on their property to earn a living. The federal Species at Risk Act, passed in 2003, makes it illegal for landowners to harm or harass any protected plant, animal or organism or destroy any of its habitat--no matter how much they may be harming the farm (penalties for a first offence range from $50,000 to $1 million). Officials from the Department of Fisheries and Oceans show up on private acreages to enforce Species at Risk, decree ANSI zones or inspect waterways.
Last year, Ontario’s Ministry of the Environment decreed that sawdust could be harmful to the environment, and developed a whole new set of complicated regulations by which private sawmills must abide. Tim Schwan, director of the Wood Producers Association of Ontario, told reporters in August that four sawmills have closed because they can’t afford the $60,000 consultants’ and testing costs it takes to comply with the ministry’s new rules. When the LLA heard that inspectors were planning to visit Lanark Cedar, a sawmill in the county, 75 members turned out to dissuade them (the inspectors never did show up). But their show of force wasn’t about the sawmill--it was about the cumulative effect of all the strictures being imposed on the country life. “It’s just a host of regulations and a host of legislation which, in essence, helps depopulate rural Canada under the guise or camouflage of environmental stewardship,” says Hillier, an electrician by trade who lives on a six-acre farm near Perth, Ont. When Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty announced in February that passing the province’s new greenbelt legislation would be one of his government’s top priorities this year, he thrilled environmentalists, and infuriated rural landowners. Under the law, an entire 1.8-million-acre swath of rural Ontario would become a “greenbelt.” Landowners will be prohibited from undertaking any new development on their land without first getting permission from the environment minister.
The Alberta Association of Landowners for the Protection of Agricultural Land has been fighting the same battle as Lanark’s farmers for the last three years. In Alberta, the biggest issue is the soaring number of public trails crisscrossing private property throughout the province over the past four years. A legislative review report to the Alberta minister of community development, issued in 2003, reads, in part: “The government of Alberta should consider assuming ownership of recreation corridors when appropriate on private land where special circumstances or opportunities would make it desirably so.” That has Ted Burger, past president of AALPAL, worried. “They can confiscate land and not pay anything for it,” says Burger, a farmer from Arrowood, Alta., 40 km southeast of Calgary. “We’re not opposed to recreation trails, where they’re wanted, and where they’d be used, more like around towns and cities. But we are concerned that a lot of these abandoned rail lines go right through our property.”
The trails are typically purchased by municipal or provincial bodies, then leased to trail societies. Meanwhile, landowners whose property is bordered by--or in many cases, intersects with--the trails, complain that they are never considered or consulted in the designations. “If there’s use of land that runs adjacent to land that we own, shouldn’t we have a say in what happens to that land?” asks Steve Upham, a cattle rancher from St. Paul County, Alta. When a public trail was established along highway land adjacent to his property, he says, “We had no say.” Though these sorts of public trails are usually used by snowmobile and all-terrain vehicle enthusiasts (as opposed to the more peaceful, and environmentally nondestructive hikers), Upham’s not necessarily opposed to living alongside them. When private trail owners enter into contract arrangements with landowners, there is much more accountability--and satisfaction--for both parties involved. “Responsible skidooers have gotten together with landowners and worked out an agreement where they have the right to skidoo on their land on established trails, which works great,” says Upham. “Everybody then takes responsibility and they take ownership and they work with due diligence and treat the use of the land as a privilege, not as a right.”
Strangely, in landlocked Alberta, Burger says there is a growing number of reports that armed officers from the federal Department of Fisheries and Oceans have been showing up uninvited for inspections on private lands that feature streams or rivers. Often, the DFO is looking for instances where cow excrement is contaminating waterways and potentially harming fish habitat. That has many farmers worried that they’re facing the same gradual loss of usage rights of their water as they have with their land (the feds have jurisdiction over navigable waterways, though some claim the legal definition of that is in dispute). “I have property along the East Arrowood Creek--a spring-fed creek that leads down to the Bow River,” says Burger. “In a worst-case scenario, they could tell us not to let our cows drink out of that creek, and that we would have to fence that creek. If they did that, it would, in effect, put us out of business.”
With the growing hassles of owning land in the country, the biggest challenge in building a rural revolution is that every year, more and more farmers give up on the country and pack it in. “We’re few in numbers and we don’t have the political clout that we wished we had,” admits Burger. When a group of landowners tried fighting against the trail being built in St. Paul County, they couldn’t find anyone to support them publicly. “None of our elected officials were listening to us,” says Upham. “We’ve all got lives to live and you can’t use your physical and emotional energy to fight something when nobody’s interested in listening.”
Certainly, that’s why the LLA has taken to more drastic measures. And their acts of civil disobedience have managed to get some results, says Hillier. “It’s obvious that if you choose not to defend your property, if you choose to sit and talk, nothing happens,” he says. “If you choose to take action and stand up, then you get results. That’s shown throughout history.” An illegal deer hunt was held in June 2003 to help eradicate a booming white-tail population that’s destroying crops and property. After eight years of trying to get the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources to grant them deer hunting licences to shoot white-tailed deer that were damaging their crops, Lanark County farmers sent a letter to the ministry advising them they were going to start shooting anyway. “On Father’s Day 2003, we started shooting deer, and a week later we had 60 permits for 60 farmers,” says Hillier.
Meanwhile, the number of rural Canadians showing up to help the LLA with their highway and border-blocking convoys has been growing steadily. And, Hillier notes, “When you get people from B.C., from Alberta, from Saskatchewan, all looking to create landowner associations--we even have supporters in Quebec--I think it shows we’re all feeling the heel of the government boot.” With increasing numbers of disaffected rural dwellers mobilizing to protect their interests, Hillier’s got the distinct feeling that his revolution may just be gaining steam.
Subscribe now to the Western Standard and save 37% off the cover price!
Copyright © 2005 Western Standard. All rights reserved.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
News
Down on the farm
Monday, 14 March 2005
Cyril Doll
On Boxing Day 2003, just after suppertime, a taxicab rolled up the gravel trail that runs through Charonne Regan’s cattle ranch in St. Paul County, Alta., about 195 km northeast of Edmonton. The car pulled off onto the shoulder and the driver and passenger got out. Then, using some loose hay that had been lying by the roadside, the two strangers started a fire.
Luckily for Regan, she smelled the smoke and managed to douse the fire before it spread to nearby hay bales, and chase the malicious trespassers away. Then, after midnight, under cover of darkness, the two returned and tried again. If Regan hadn’t, once more, got there in time, the flames would have burned 300 bales of her hay, the entire supply she had to feed her cattle through the winter. Three days later, a quarter horse mare went missing from Regan’s farm. It later was found dead, down by the trail half a mile from her house.
In the three years since an abandoned CN rail line, which bisects Regan’s property, was converted into a public trail, the rancher says she has lost thousands of dollars due to property damage and theft. The gates that hold her cattle are constantly being opened by mischievous passersby; last spring someone pulled her fence down, allowing 200 of her green yearling steers to roam free. It took weeks to rustle them up. “It goes on and on, and then for two weeks you have no [incidents], and then next thing you know, your cows are on the road and in your neighbours’ land,” says the frustrated property owner. “I feel uneasy all the time; I don’t know what’s happening on my own property.”
Though the rancher has the right to maintain and protect her own land, she is powerless to control who uses the strip of gravel that runs across it--and what they do there. Hundreds of miles of abandoned Crown-owned rail lines that criss-cross the Canadian countryside have dozens of other farmers facing the same aggravation. And the growing tension between country dwellers and Ottawa doesn’t end there. Farmers are being increasingly provoked as the feds encroach on their land in other ways, too: cordoning off certain areas of privately owned property in the interest of science, or because of the presence of certain protected species. Provincial laws have become tougher on the type and amount of materials that farmers use on their crops, while federal laws, like the gun registry, regulate their lifestyle.
Rural property owners are calling it an assault on rural Canada, with politicians and bureaucrats making it harder to live in the country. And more and more property owners across Canada are getting angry. In one Ontario county just south of Ottawa, a group of farmers has united as the Lanark Landowners Association, taking matters into their own hands. They’ve held illegal beef and produce sales throughout the county in defiance of government regulations that require them to obtain permits. They’ve shut down provincial government offices by blocking the doors with 600-pound bales of hay. On Feb. 18, in a demonstration being called “Stop the Destruction” (of the rural lifestyle, that is), an LLA convoy of 50 tractors and 220 other vehicles slowed traffic to a crawl on the massive 401 highway along the Quebec/Ontario border for four hours. The same group had blocked traffic along the 401 near Cardinal, Ont., on Feb. 4 and used two tractors and a truck to block an American border crossing near Prescott, Ont., for five hours. On Jan. 21, another convoy, 200 vehicles strong, blocked the 401 near Tillsonburg, Ont., for seven hours.
The LLA is calling the actions a “Rural Revolution” and says that, beyond just putting an end to the web of regulations that is stifling the rural way of life, they want to see property owners’ rights enshrined in Canada’s Charter of Rights and Freedoms, as they are in the U.S. Constitution. “When that Charter of Rights and Freedoms was repatriated into our Constitution, that paved a path for injustice to follow,” states Randy Hillier, the outspoken president of the LLA. “Unwittingly, we all at the time believed government was good and benevolent and that they would never choose to harm its citizens. And if they did they would quickly resolve that. But that was a false premise.”
One day, when a couple of deer hunters showed Lanark County farmer John Vanderspank a map they had obtained of his land, he was shocked to see marked on it an area of natural scientific interest (ANSI). An ANSI is any area of land or water that Ontario considers to have research, educational or even historical value--ranging from habitats of plant life or animals to interesting rocks or glacial-formations. “Well, I’ve owned this land for 20 years and didn’t know that I had an ANSI,” says Vanderspank, who is also a founding member of LLA. “It wasn’t there when I bought the land.” If it had been, after all, it might not have been worth as much. That’s because an ANSI comes complete with all kinds of onerous regulations that can make it hard for landowners to fully use their property, including buffer zones that actually prohibit development. Vanderspank’s lawyer checked the original title deed and couldn’t find an ANSI designation. It wasn’t until he went down to the township office and had office workers “dig deep into their computers” that he found out that, indeed, of his roughly 1,000 acres of land, the government had sectioned off a 30-acre egg-shaped parcel as an area of scientific interest, with a 400-foot buffer around it.
Unlike the fifth amendment of the U.S. Constitution--which guarantees that no person shall “be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use without just compensation”--Canada’s charter is silent on the issue of property rights. While that doesn’t mean Canadians don’t have any--there is, after all, common law, which provides significant property rights protection--it means that Canadians are at a big disadvantage when it’s the government that wants to start messing with their property. And no one feels that more than those who live in the countryside and depend on their property to earn a living. The federal Species at Risk Act, passed in 2003, makes it illegal for landowners to harm or harass any protected plant, animal or organism or destroy any of its habitat--no matter how much they may be harming the farm (penalties for a first offence range from $50,000 to $1 million). Officials from the Department of Fisheries and Oceans show up on private acreages to enforce Species at Risk, decree ANSI zones or inspect waterways.
Last year, Ontario’s Ministry of the Environment decreed that sawdust could be harmful to the environment, and developed a whole new set of complicated regulations by which private sawmills must abide. Tim Schwan, director of the Wood Producers Association of Ontario, told reporters in August that four sawmills have closed because they can’t afford the $60,000 consultants’ and testing costs it takes to comply with the ministry’s new rules. When the LLA heard that inspectors were planning to visit Lanark Cedar, a sawmill in the county, 75 members turned out to dissuade them (the inspectors never did show up). But their show of force wasn’t about the sawmill--it was about the cumulative effect of all the strictures being imposed on the country life. “It’s just a host of regulations and a host of legislation which, in essence, helps depopulate rural Canada under the guise or camouflage of environmental stewardship,” says Hillier, an electrician by trade who lives on a six-acre farm near Perth, Ont. When Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty announced in February that passing the province’s new greenbelt legislation would be one of his government’s top priorities this year, he thrilled environmentalists, and infuriated rural landowners. Under the law, an entire 1.8-million-acre swath of rural Ontario would become a “greenbelt.” Landowners will be prohibited from undertaking any new development on their land without first getting permission from the environment minister.
The Alberta Association of Landowners for the Protection of Agricultural Land has been fighting the same battle as Lanark’s farmers for the last three years. In Alberta, the biggest issue is the soaring number of public trails crisscrossing private property throughout the province over the past four years. A legislative review report to the Alberta minister of community development, issued in 2003, reads, in part: “The government of Alberta should consider assuming ownership of recreation corridors when appropriate on private land where special circumstances or opportunities would make it desirably so.” That has Ted Burger, past president of AALPAL, worried. “They can confiscate land and not pay anything for it,” says Burger, a farmer from Arrowood, Alta., 40 km southeast of Calgary. “We’re not opposed to recreation trails, where they’re wanted, and where they’d be used, more like around towns and cities. But we are concerned that a lot of these abandoned rail lines go right through our property.”
The trails are typically purchased by municipal or provincial bodies, then leased to trail societies. Meanwhile, landowners whose property is bordered by--or in many cases, intersects with--the trails, complain that they are never considered or consulted in the designations. “If there’s use of land that runs adjacent to land that we own, shouldn’t we have a say in what happens to that land?” asks Steve Upham, a cattle rancher from St. Paul County, Alta. When a public trail was established along highway land adjacent to his property, he says, “We had no say.” Though these sorts of public trails are usually used by snowmobile and all-terrain vehicle enthusiasts (as opposed to the more peaceful, and environmentally nondestructive hikers), Upham’s not necessarily opposed to living alongside them. When private trail owners enter into contract arrangements with landowners, there is much more accountability--and satisfaction--for both parties involved. “Responsible skidooers have gotten together with landowners and worked out an agreement where they have the right to skidoo on their land on established trails, which works great,” says Upham. “Everybody then takes responsibility and they take ownership and they work with due diligence and treat the use of the land as a privilege, not as a right.”
Strangely, in landlocked Alberta, Burger says there is a growing number of reports that armed officers from the federal Department of Fisheries and Oceans have been showing up uninvited for inspections on private lands that feature streams or rivers. Often, the DFO is looking for instances where cow excrement is contaminating waterways and potentially harming fish habitat. That has many farmers worried that they’re facing the same gradual loss of usage rights of their water as they have with their land (the feds have jurisdiction over navigable waterways, though some claim the legal definition of that is in dispute). “I have property along the East Arrowood Creek--a spring-fed creek that leads down to the Bow River,” says Burger. “In a worst-case scenario, they could tell us not to let our cows drink out of that creek, and that we would have to fence that creek. If they did that, it would, in effect, put us out of business.”
With the growing hassles of owning land in the country, the biggest challenge in building a rural revolution is that every year, more and more farmers give up on the country and pack it in. “We’re few in numbers and we don’t have the political clout that we wished we had,” admits Burger. When a group of landowners tried fighting against the trail being built in St. Paul County, they couldn’t find anyone to support them publicly. “None of our elected officials were listening to us,” says Upham. “We’ve all got lives to live and you can’t use your physical and emotional energy to fight something when nobody’s interested in listening.”
Certainly, that’s why the LLA has taken to more drastic measures. And their acts of civil disobedience have managed to get some results, says Hillier. “It’s obvious that if you choose not to defend your property, if you choose to sit and talk, nothing happens,” he says. “If you choose to take action and stand up, then you get results. That’s shown throughout history.” An illegal deer hunt was held in June 2003 to help eradicate a booming white-tail population that’s destroying crops and property. After eight years of trying to get the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources to grant them deer hunting licences to shoot white-tailed deer that were damaging their crops, Lanark County farmers sent a letter to the ministry advising them they were going to start shooting anyway. “On Father’s Day 2003, we started shooting deer, and a week later we had 60 permits for 60 farmers,” says Hillier.
Meanwhile, the number of rural Canadians showing up to help the LLA with their highway and border-blocking convoys has been growing steadily. And, Hillier notes, “When you get people from B.C., from Alberta, from Saskatchewan, all looking to create landowner associations--we even have supporters in Quebec--I think it shows we’re all feeling the heel of the government boot.” With increasing numbers of disaffected rural dwellers mobilizing to protect their interests, Hillier’s got the distinct feeling that his revolution may just be gaining steam.
Subscribe now to the Western Standard and save 37% off the cover price!
Copyright © 2005 Western Standard. All rights reserved.
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