Family Enviornmental History

March 17, 2026 By: Daphnee Cairns

When I think about my personal environmental history, one of the first memories that comes to mind is from when I was about five years old, living in Sooke, BC.  My family was out for a walk on the Galloping Goose Trail, and I kept falling behind because my little legs couldn’t keep up with my three older sisters.  My parents jokingly called me “cougar bait,” since I was always at the back of the group.  At the time it was funny, but looking back, it’s a reminder of how present and real nature felt in that environment.  Wildlife wasn’t something distant; it was something that was a part of our lives.

            My family’s environmental story begins with my grandparents, who lived in the Greater Toronto Area.  My maternal grandparents immigrated from Germany, so the Toronto area would have been a significant environmental change for them.  The environment in the Toronto area was very much urban and suburban, but it was likely less crowded and less developed than it is today.  My grandmother, in particular, had a strong connection to the outdoors through her large garden.  Even in a city setting, she created a space that allowed her to interact with the natural world and provide subsistence for her family, a very practical relationship with nature.

            My parents grew up in the same general area, but their experience of the environment was shaped more by suburban growth.  As the Greater Toronto Area expanded, farmland and open space were increasingly replaced by housing developments and urban sprawl.  Both of my parents joined the Canadian military, which introduced different kinds of environmental experiences, including field exercises, overseas deployments, and moves to different bases across the country.  For me, growing up in a military family meant moving every three or four years, and as a result, I was exposed to different landscapes across Canada from coast to coast.

            While my parents may not have thought about the environment in a particularly reflective way, those moves had a big impact on me.  Each location came with its own natural surroundings, climate, and ecosystems.  These moves helped me see firsthand how diverse Canada’s environments are, and how people adapt to them.

            I consider Muskoka Lakes to be my hometown, as that is where I spent my teenage years after my parents retired from the military.  This is where my connection to the environment really developed.  Muskoka is known as cottage country, and has world-renowned lakes, forests, and small community centres, and my summers were spent almost entirely outdoors.  I worked as a seasonal labourer for the township, cutting grass and maintaining parks with my friends.  Outside of work, I spent my days on the lakes, boating, and hanging out at cottages.  Being outside wasn’t something you had to think about; it was part of everyday life in Muskoka Lakes.

            As an adult, I now live in Dawson Creek, BC, and previously lived in Inuvik, NWT, and Iqaluit, NU, each of which offers a uniquely different environment from those I experienced in my childhood.  Moving across the country a few times, what has always amazed me is the prairie provinces.  Vast open pieces of land that have been completely transformed by humans into agricultural farms for hundreds of kilometres in every direction.  There is something both impressive and concerning about this.  On one hand, it shows how humans have been able to transform the land to support communities and each other with food production.  On the other hand, it raises questions about what has been lost forever in the process, particularly the natural ecosystems and biodiversity.

            Living in a smaller, more rural community in northeast British Columbia has brought me closer to nature in ways I didn’t experience in my childhood.  There is more visible wildlife, more open space, and more opportunity to be outdoors.  However, despite being physically closer to nature, I find that modern life, especially technology, makes it harder to truly disconnect and experience the natural world.  Now, as a parent, I think about my relationship with the environment differently.  I want my children to spend more time outdoors and develop a respect for nature.  This wasn’t strongly emphasized in my upbringing, but it feels increasingly important today.  At the same time, I recognize that they are growing up in a world where screens and technology are a constant presence, and being in nature must be a deliberate choice.  This creates a bit of tension.  On the one hand, my family’s history shows a movement towards environments closer to nature, but on the other hand, technological changes have made it more difficult to fully engage with them.  In some ways, we are closer to nature than previous generations, but in other ways, we are more disconnected from it.

            Ultimately, my family’s story shows that even as environments change, the need for connection to nature remains.  The challenge moving forward is not just having access to natural spaces but making the choice to respect and engage with them in meaningful ways.

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