Tapping the Yale Farm Maples | Philipp Hoehme

Post by Philipp Hoehme

Everyone likes the taste of sweet maple syrup, but not everyone has produced their own maple syrup by tapping a tree in their own garden.

This year, Philipp Hoehme – an international student at The Forest School – tried his hand at tapping a maple tree for the first time using the big sugar maple at the Yale Farm’s entrance on Edwards Street.

In tapping this tree, he aimed to test the methodology he will use to collect data for his master’s thesis. Through this thesis, he will tap several trees located at different elevations in southern Germany and investigate the effect of elevation on the syrup yield. Outside of this main research question, he will also provide general data on the feasibility of producing maple syrup in southern Germany.

The motivation for his master’s thesis comes from his study experience in Quebec at Laval University where he discovered the tradition around maple tapping. Director of Forest & Agricultural Operations Joseph Orefice, who runs a sugar bush at Yale Myers Forests, contributed his motivation and provided Philipp the knowledge about how to tap a maple tree.

Philipp tapped the big sugar maple on the Yale Farm on February 16th, 2023. Tapping a maple tree is relatively easy. For tapping and collection, Philipp drilled a 2-inch-deep hole into the tree, plugged a spout in this hole, and collected the sap coming out of the tree in a bucket. To reduce contamination of the sap, Philipp used a spout directing the sap into a tube connected to a bucket with a lid.

After installing the tap, Philipp measured the sugar content and the sap volume once a week. These two variables are needed to estimate the amount of syrup that can be produced per tree.

Since tapping is dependent on certain weather conditions occurring mainly during the end of the winter, the tapping season must end at some point. This year, the last sap flow at the Yale Farm was noted on March 26, 2023.

During this tapping period lasting from February 16th to March 26th, the tree produced about 46.6 liters of sap with an average sugar content of 2.2%. This would be enough sap to produce 1.23 liter of syrup or 0.316 gallons of syrup, which is about the average syrup yield in Connecticut.

Using the maple tree at the Yale Farm, Philipp successfully tested his research methods. He will now implement them in Germany for his research. Maybe one day, we will see German maple syrup.

The Yale Farm Birds Sing a Song | GFF '22

This post is part of Diego Ellis Soto’s 2022 Global Food Fellowship.

Birds are chirping, be in the present, I tell myself as I make my way up the familiar hill on Edwards Street. Cars roar up the street containing a mixture of old and new scientific buildings to study physics and chemistry; supercomputing and environmental science are to my left.

Thousands of computers are humming, calculating anything from creating new chemical molecules, to exploring new planets in far galaxies, to identifying areas where hummingbirds will migrate under climate change.

Speaking of migration. Sweaty, but happy, arriving to a 1-acre urban farm that is about to create a song to the buzz of bees, birds, humans, and whoever decides to join and jam along !

Microphone check, says the chicken. The chalkboard next to the Farm’s pizza oven says ‘welcome to the Farm’ in purple colors. Purple like the soundwave of bird calls of what’s there to come; purple like tulips beginning to blossom in the most beautiful of shapes, purple like a red onion about to be chopped for a knead 2 know event. Smile; your shoulders get less tense and let go. Truly, it’s okay. Let go.

Not just the weight of a backpack full of research gear; also, from thinking about the myriad of different things related to other different things, in complicated ways to connect and measure these different things; each somehow related to understanding the natural world.

Be the present.

Working with the land, with bare hands, after hours of meeting someone, on a screen, developing algorithms, on a screen, applying for funding, on a screen. Let the screen go, listen to what birds are chirping, which insects are crawling, frogs are burping, or humans are laughing. We may get some warm cider at the end of the workday if we are lucky or a warm slice of pizza with veggies harvested today.

Today we’ll hear an animal opera. Yes, an opera! Really. Produced and directed locally, by the Farm. We have a chicken on the high hat, howling barred owls looking for small mice around the tomato plants under the protection of a windbreaker, and migratory white and black warbler as an ephemeral vocalist while they replenish themselves of whatever the Farm has in stock. Some bird actors – like the Blue Jay with his clear blue suit – proudly sing dozens of times a day year round; a shy small migratory warbler only sings for the lucky ear a few days a year.

The soil is still a tad cold, it was a cold winter and spring time is reminding us of the change of time, life is waking up in New England. Yet below it all, plants are talking with each other, through the real plant life social network of their roots.

Soon birds will start, one after the other, billion by billion, to fly south – on a voyage across hundreds of miles to Central and South America. We can peek into a snapshot of their life thanks to a small computer and a $9.99 microphone ! (Figure 1)

Figure 1: Setting up the bird spy microphones on a sunny day at the Yale Farm, in Edwards Street, New Haven. This allowed us to listen to and identify birds during the annual spring migration season.

A Black box fancy computer algorithm detects which bird species is singing at all times using ‘deep learning’, while outside, students are learning about organic farming, the logistics connecting farm to table, and baking a great pizza in the wood-fired brick oven.

Next to the compost, tied to a white Maple tree, is a game camera which takes pictures of gophers, squirrels, and other furry or winged musicians – critters of the animal orchestra at Edwards street. To the headache of the farm manager, the gophers have been active lately (Figure 3).

Figure 2: By installing a camera trap next to the Farm’s compost we were able to obtain various pictures of critters, such as this curious gopher (Figure 3), looking for new ways of causing headache to the farm manager.

Figure 3: A Farm-curious gopher.

Bird microphones, and gopher pictures aside; today’s volunteers weed several beds away. The recent rain makes handling the soil incredibly nourishing as I get to learn about the story of today’s volunteers, their relationship with the soil, the soil of their respective home countries, and their day to day lives at Yale. One of them has taught me new dishes from Sri Lanka, while another one became a dear friend.

When asking farm manager Jeremy Oldfield about the right time to seed carrots and radishes, he gives a great answer with a contagious and warm optimism and wisdom of a farmer. He also gives a bag full of carrot and radish seeds, to be planted at the home garden.

Time passes, seeds are planted, spinach, kale, and corn have germinated and grown. They see the days become longer.

It’s summer, it’s warm, nature is in full swing. Every single second our surroundings are exploding with life and reinventing configurations in which every living organism, including us fancy humans, are a collective pulse of.

Ok, enough philosophy and inner monologues! I leave Friday’s workday at the Farm with a smile on my face, a lower stress level, research gear up and running listening to the main actors of tonight sing. At home, I harvest my greens to make space for carrots and radishes while blue jays orchestrate tonight’s outdoors and a Downy woodpecker decides to add some drum and bass.

Fast forward four weeks and the Farm is looking great!

The garlic is several inches taller and there is a vibrant atmosphere of excitement among workday participants and farm managers. I hear laughter, friendly chatter and the sounds of rakes, shovels and chirping birds. Today we will learn and plant corn, beans, and squash together for symbiotic growing, admiring and learning from indigenous peoples’ planting practices.

We pick up cameras and microphones (Figure 2) and learn that several dozens of bird species have used the Yale Farm during spring migration. Some of these species are vulnerable and in decline due to human driven landscape modification and climate change, highlighting the importance of urban farms for birds across the world!

Figure 4: Hundreds of garlic cloves stretching in sun salutation with their leaves on a sunny day at the Farm.

In fact, in the last 50 years alone we have lost up to 30% of all birds in the United States! At the Farm, we see so many different layers and facets of biodiversity – from bees pollinating a plant whose pathogens are being eaten by bats, to birds foraging on some of the falling apples by the apple tree. It doesn’t hurt when a warm cup of cider, a lecture on sustainability, live music or poetry awaits at the end of the day.

The first building block to halting biodiversity loss requires us to know where species are and where they are not. It is also key to understand the relationship of biodiversity and our working landscapes from which us humans acquire our food. We all come from, end up in, depend on healthy soil, and must share this in a sustainable manner in an ever-crowded planet.

Identifying which species occupy small farms – such as the Yale Farm – helps understand how small-scale farm operations can be stewards of biodiversity while ensuring food production.

Let’s move from farming and science to music! At home, close all browser tabs used for research, put on headphones on. Open the music production software Ableton Live. After scrolling through some bird spy microphone recordings, we add recordings of ‘background noise’ to our opera as background; a good old trick for making Lo-fi beats sounding rawer.

We then add recordings from American Robins, the A.I. of the bird spy microphones has birds nicely labeled by name in each folder separately.

The chirping of birds, the clucking of chickens and the sound of a breeze evoke mellowness and tranquility. The same content felt after a day of working at the Farm. I try to transfer this feeling of tranquility into musical notes by jamming along with my synthesizer. The result is called ‘The Yale Farm Birds sing a song’ and can be found on Soundcloud.

Figure 5: The Yale farm birds sing a song, available on Soundcloud.

But why does farm music matter? Why does this matter for food systems, biodiversity, and us as people?

Perhaps to start by acknowledging that most of the food cultivated on earth is grown by small scale farm owners, which also increases resilience to extreme climatic events and increases food security. The field of agroecology studies how farming can align with ecological processes in a more sustainable way.

A better understanding of what birds live in farms, whether they provide important ecosystem services, or contribute negatively by eating crops, is critical for sustainable planning.

If we zoom out and think about the future, perhaps we can teach about biodiversity through the lens of music; we could motivate a whole new generation of youth to record and document the trends of birds in our neighborhoods, farms, backyards, schools or hospitals. This of bird bachata or cricket LoFi.

Such effort should be embedded into environmental and social justice principles. Lessons learned at the Yale Farm taught by the animal opera, could be applied as educational material for K12 STEM initiatives in New Haven and beyond. Our youth could collect environmental justice-rooted information on our city birds, improving our understanding on biodiversity, while making music and being able to connect with nature in urban environments. Nature is everywhere and offers music to those who listen; or who record it with a bird spy microphone (you can see this recording if you want to find out more)!

Can we apply lessons learned in New Haven somewhere else? Yes, definitely! At larger scales, initiatives such as TUBA (Training Undergraduate Biologists through urban Agriculture) are creating new hands-on curriculum for undergraduates by combining urban farming with biodiversity. This could attract a whole new range of computer science, art and musical students through music making of the natural world!

Figure 6: Panoramic photo of setting up cameras in the NW corner of the Yale Farm, facing the Lazarus Pavilion.

Months pass by again and it is Fall. Every single tree on my way up to Edwards Street has put on their best dress in a color palette with hundreds of shapes of green, yellow, red, and maroon. I am distracted from the beautiful old and new buildings by the red maple trees, which will provide delicious syrup later in the year. This time at the Farm there is no music recording, perhaps weeding, perhaps being, perhaps harvesting, perhaps cleaning.

The birds at the Farm are still chirping. Together they represent an ecosystem, ecosystems playing jazz from Monday to Sunday. This jazz will play long before and after we are gone and go back to the soil, to feed the earthworm that the early bird had for breakfast.

Thank you for listening.

Socioeconomic Trends of Traditional HomeGardens in Pitekele, Sri Lanka | GFF '22

This post is part of Ismini Ethridge’s 2022 Global Food Fellowship.

Socioeconomic Trends of Traditional HomeGardens in Pitekele, Sri Lanka

Ismini, left, picking tea.

Throughout my childhood, I spent many summers on extended visits to family in Sri Lanka. Some of my first and most poignant lessons around environmental and social justice involved food; watching my grandmother carefully wrap every grain of leftover rice in banana leaves to avoid waste, noticing food availability tied closely to seasonal changes and environmental constraints, and witnessing hunger to an extent that I had never seen at home in the US.

The year I began graduate school, a national crisis in Sri Lanka provoked by a ban on agro-chemical inputs presented a unique opportunity to examine the complex entanglements of food systems with socio-political and economic imperatives. Sri Lanka’s President, who was eventually forced by civilian protest to resign, announced the abrupt ban on imports of agro-chemicals in April 2021, citing environmental and health concerns arising from the overuse of chemical fertilizers and pesticides, such as water pollution, soil depletion and erosion, and increased risk of colon, kidney, and stomach cancer due to excessive nitrate exposure in farming communities. The policy change, arguably motivated more by Sri Lanka’s diminishing foreign exchange reserves, brought global attention to the harms of modern agricultural systems devoid of environmental and social considerations.

A paddy field surrounded by forest/forest gardens.

The reaction was an outcry from farmers and the general public regarding the scant planning and lack of support to make the transition to organic farming, coupled with rampant inflation in food prices, and fears that the country could collapse into famine. The government ultimately rolled back many of the policies, but farmers’ harvests had already fallen by 40-70% percent due to lack of access to fertilizer when they needed it, and the concurrent economic crisis, the worst since independence, made it nearly impossible to import food items and other essential goods such as fuel.

Sri Lanka’s story, though perhaps the first to culminate in such dramatic effects, is not unique. Sri Lanka is one of many countries continually facing the deleterious consequences of colonial restructuring of food and economic systems, structural adjustment policies that pushed for the liberalization of agriculture, and a Green Revolution that fueled a dependence on imported chemical fertilizers and cash crop production.

In my nascent explorations aimed at trying to understand how Sri Lanka could move towards a more ecologically and socially integrative food system that bolstered local food sovereignty, I found immense inspiration and hope in learning about Sri Lanka’s deep history of traditional homegarden-agroforestry practices, often referred to as “tree gardens” or “forest gardens”. Homegardens are generally considered part of an agro-socio-ecological system that comprises domesticated plants and/or animals, as well as people, and produces a variety of fruits, vegetables, and non-timber forest products, that contribute to a family′s diet and may even provide additional income (Soemarwoto and Conway, 1992 cited in Mohri et. al 2013;124).

A new lookout hut being built after villagers began to re-adopt paddy cultivation amidst the national food crisis. Villagers take turns watching for animals from the lookout hut.

During the summer of 2022, I had the privilege, thanks to generous funding from the Yale Sustainable Food Program and the Tropical Resources Institute, to conduct research on homegardens in a small village in south west Sri Lanka adjacent to the Sinharaja Forest Reserve. Previous studies conducted in the area about 30 years ago revealed a rich practice of homegardening, as well as an encroaching influence of tea cultivation. The focus of my research was therefore to better understand the role of traditional homegardens in these smallholder livelihoods, how communities living in particularly precious ecosystems and landscapes were balancing subsistence food production with cash crop production, and more broadly, what could be learnt from these practices that are of national and even global relevance?

Planting tea crops.

I spent the better part of two months living in Pitekele, learning about homegardens and changing land use practices through household interviews and ethnographic research. The lives of the villagers are far too rich and complex to be encapsulated in one summer study, but a few trends and moments stood out as profound learnings. Nearly all households engaged in some form of cash crop production, usually tea, but homegardens remained an almost sacred staple for every household. One of the eldest villagers described caring for her homegarden as similar to loving and caring for a member of the family. Despite the increasing prevalence of tea cultivation, villagers rarely reported sacrificing homegarden land for cash crops, and the majority reported growing more food items in their homegardens since the last formal study was conducted 30 years ago, indicating that homegardening practices were still a stronghold in the community.

Villagers had an acute awareness of the role homegardens played in their food sovereignty as well. They took pride in being self-sufficient in growing many staple items, such as jackfruit, breadfruit, manioca, coconut, and a variety of fruits and vegetables. Many noted that despite losing jobs amidst the economic crisis and decreased tea yields due to the fertilizer ban, families were generally able to furnish their basic needs from their gardens. The intimate level of social integration required by village homegardens also helped ensure the economic and social security of the villagers, and played an integral role in the social cohesion and culture of the village. The rich diversity of plants and crops grown in homegardens, for example, was largely due to seed sharing amongst the community. Children not only played in the homegardens, but knew nearly every plant—vegetable, herb, medicinal—growing in them.

Pristinely clean water in the main river that flowed through the village.

Still, villagers faced challenges with their land and cultivation. While homegardens generally didn’t require any inputs, chemical fertilizers and pesticides were used on nearly all tea land, and crops suffered when the sharp rise of fertilizer prices restricted access. Forest laws that restricted hunting of animals and the use of forest products such as wood for fuel, timber, and fences meant that villagers were facing increasing pressure from wildlife threatening their vegetable crops. Local government offices made subpar attempts to support homegarden cultivation by providing some vegetable seeds and occasional workshops on how to make organic compost. 

These villagers demonstrated traditional agroforestry as a practice that afforded remarkable resilience amidst compounding national crises, yet there remains a clear opportunity for both localized and national policy efforts to more effectively support smallholders to maintain their traditional homegarding practices and have viable livelihoods.

Food Sovereignty in Urban Environments: Brooklyn, New York | GFF '22

This post is part of Storm Lewis’s 2022 Global Food Fellowship.

Food Sovereignty in Urban Environments: A Case Study of Brooklyn, New York

Growing up in what used to be a predominantly Black neighborhood, I witnessed how gentrification and food insecurity transformed Brooklyn’s foodscape. My drive to address disparities in food access further developed as my family grappled with the impacts of breast cancer. The relationship between cancer and diets made it clear to me that the quality of food consumed is a critical component of community health. Yet, food apartheids pervade areas where I grew up.

As a student and activist, I turned to urban agriculture as a platform to gain autonomy and help others connect to nutritious foods. Whether I was growing collard greens in my elementary school yard or advocating for public school gardens, I found strength in the ability to grow food. My experience gardening made me understand that access to healthy, culturally appropriate food is only one facet of community health. Black communities must also have a stake in the production of our foods.

 Historically, Black farmers have been systematically discriminated against and denied the right to cultivate farmland for decades. Institutions such as the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) have strategically reduced Black land ownership by limiting access to loans and access to quality land free from environmental hazards. The number of Black farmers in the United States continues to decline due to the loss of land and agricultural knowledge in Black communities.[1]

In 2017, less than 1% of New York State Farmers were Black.[2] [3] For the Black farmers that managed to produce an annual harvest, their profit margins were significantly lower than White farmers. Given this history, current efforts to improve food systems must support models in which Black farmers can achieve self-determination through communal or individual control of agricultural land.

 Food sovereignty is one of the few approaches encouraging communities to define and control their food systems. However, few studies examine the pathways to success for Black farmers. My study fills this gap by questioning what Black-led, food sovereignty organizations exist in Brooklyn across the food supply chain. Do they self-identify as food sovereign? Lastly, what are the barriers to implementing food sovereignty on a local and national scale?

Hattie Carthan Farmer's Market.

 In June of 2021, I used a multi-method approach to understand the challenges and achievements of Black foodways through interviews and participant observation. I spoke with over forty-five organizations ranging from Green Thumb, Universe City, East New York Farms, Seasons Plant Shop, New Visions Garden, Oko Farms, to Red Hook Community Farms, and other gardens in Brooklyn.

I also engaged in fifty-five hours of volunteer work at farms and gardens. Some of the tasks involved weeding, watering, and harvesting plants, building trellises, picking up trash, organizing tool sheds, and selling produce at farmer’s markets. The information collected will contribute to a resource guide that helps food producers access funding sources. The final paper will also provide recommendations for local governments to support Black food systems.

Overall, it was a privilege working alongside farmers to grow and distribute fresh produce. I am humbled to have learned from those who dedicate their lives to food production. As a result, I gained a form of knowledge that cannot be taught in the classroom nor read in literature. I will carry these lessons with me as I move through my studies at the Yale School of the Environment (YSE) and beyond.

To learn more about my research, you can read my article on food sovereignty published in the Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship Journal. Later this year, I will partner with MidHeaven Network to moderate a podcast series featuring Black agrarianism in New York City. I will also present my project at the New Horizons in Conservation Conference, ​​the RITM 3-minute Research Presentations, and the YSE Summer Experience Showcase. 

———

This project was made possible with the support of the Global Food Fellowship, the Mobley Family Environmental Humanities Summer Student Research Grant, the RITM Research and Conference Travel Award, and my research advisor, Dr. Dorceta Taylor.

Full Links:
https://uraf.harvard.edu/files/uraf/files/mmuf_journal_2021.pdf
https://www.midheaven.network

Citations:
[1] Taylor, D. E. (2018). Black farmers in the USA and Michigan: Longevity, empowerment, and food sovereignty. Journal of African American Studies, 22(1), 49–76. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12111-018-9394-8

[2] Taylor, D. E. (2018). Black farmers in the USA and Michigan: Longevity, empowerment, and food sovereignty. Journal of African American Studies, 22(1), 49–76. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12111-018-9394-8

[3] United States Department of Agriculture. Census of Agriculture. 2017 Volume 1, Chapter 1: State Level | 2017 Census of Agriculture | USDA/NASS. (2017). Retrieved October 28, 2021, from https://www.nass.usda.gov/Publications/AgCensus/2017/Full_Report/Volume_1,_Chapter_1_State_Level/.

COVID-19 and Urban Emergency Food Justice | GFF '22

This post is part of Destiny Treloar’s 2022 Global Food Fellowship.

COVID-19 and Emergency Food Justice:
Understanding chronically food insecure Latina/x/e women’s relationship with urban emergency food access in Hialeah, Florida

A picture of cacao, one of the fruits sorted at the food distribution in Hialeah.

A picture of some of the tropical fruits at a local farmers market in Hialeah where I volunteered.

A community fridge in Hialeah stocked with donated water that I stocked, organized, and cleaned during my volunteer work with Buddy System and Food Rescue. 

A photo/selfie of Destiny Treloar, right, and Te'Yah Wright (MEM student, class of 2023) volunteering at Holyoke's Farmers Market, aiding at the Healthy Incentive Program (HIP) informational booth. 

A close-up photograph of a bag of emergency food available at a food drive in Hialeah that I volunteered at. 

This summer, I’ve examined the complex elements of emergency food networks in two urban cities through the lenses of Latina/x/e women for my Master of Environmental science thesis at Yale School of Environment. I collected surveys, conducted interviews, engaged in participatory observations, and recorded the available emergency food outlets. As part of my data collection, I volunteered at several food outlets and community events, including farmers’ markets, food banks, soup kitchens, community fridges, and community gardens. My volunteering efforts were incredible opportunities to assist in food insecurity efforts in the community, as well as connect with folks about emergency food relief.

My mixed qualitative approaches revealed the interwoven crisis of the COVID-19 pandemic, inflation, and climate crisis playing a significant role in emergency food outlet operations and provisions. I uncovered there were a host of barriers present to Latina/x/e women, indicating unequal dimensions of access to emergency food outlet systems. I ripped open the red tape around ‘free food’ offerings to determine the barriers Latina/x/e women encounter when accessing emergency food assistance programs. I also used this analysis to develop multi-faceted solutions to foster a more inclusive environment.

As a Nicaraguan woman, this was an incredible opportunity to connect with disenfranchised communities and dive deeper into the intersecting food issues prevalent in the broader food access system, with a particular focus on emergency food offerings. Examination of chronically food insecure Latina/x/e women is absolutely critical to advance the understanding of the systems of power within the emergency food access system that mitigates rates of food insecurity. This research would not be possible without the generous support of the Global Food Fellowship Program. I am honored to be able to answer my questions in the food justice realm.

Stories from the Ground Up: Vermont Farmers' Land Ethics | GFF '22

This post is part of Katie Michels’ 2022 Global Food Fellowship.

Dairy cows grazing near Montpelier, Vermont. Photo by Katie Michels.

This summer, I interviewed 20 Vermont farmers about how and why they manage their land, and what influences their relationships with their land. I asked questions like: Why do you manage your land in the ways that you do? What enables or constrains your ability to farm in the ways that you want to? What does land stewardship mean to you? I spoke with livestock farmers who are managing their animals in different ways, seeking to understand a variety of land management practices and the reasons why farmers use them.

Through these conversations, I was able to hear directly from farmers about their relationships with their land, and the reasons why they make the land management decisions they do. I learned so much about not just the specifics of different land management practices (i.e. what does management-intensive rotational grazing look like on a farm that was abandoned for 50 years prior?), but also the depth of factors that inform farmers’ land management choices. Many farmers I spoke with described the importance of growing food for their communities; fostering habitat for animals both large (bears, deer) and small (bobolinks, butterflies); continuing family legacies; and farm viability. I heard farmers describe how they think of farming as an environmental act, because it places them in relationship with land and offers space and time to know it well. I also heard farmers speak about the value of having many farmers in a community, for how it creates volunteer capacity for municipal bodies like select boards, school boards, and fire departments, which form the lifeblood of rural communities. Many mourned the loss of community ties and capacity that has come as small farms have closed or consolidated and there are fewer full-time farmers.

My time in Vermont allowed me to deepen my own layers of connection to this landscape and place, and to better understand the ways that farmers have made Vermont’s working landscape what it is. The stories I heard were rich and deep. It was a gift to sit with farmers for spans of time ranging from one hour to three days to hear their stories of place, land, animals, and people and the ways they are in relationship with each. Through this work, I learned what farmers are doing, why they are doing it, and how they articulate what land stewardship means to them. I hope to continue to share stories of how the impacts of farmers’ actions ripple out into the human and more-than-human communities of which they are part.

Thank you to the YSFP Global Food Fellows Program, Jubitz Family Endowment for Research, and the Mobley Family Environmental Humanities Grant for supporting this work.

Fisher Ecological Knowledge in Fishery Studies | GFF '22

This post is part of Daviana Berkowitz-Sklar’s 2022 Global Food Fellowship.

The role of fisher ecological knowledge in fishery studies:
A case study from a Costa Rica recreational billfish fishery

Daviana, left, during an informal conversation with Chepe, a retired fisherman.

Early morning departure for a full day of sport fishing ahead.

A glimpse into the beautiful beaches of the Osa Peninsula of Costa Rica, where a large portion of this research took place.

On the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica, sport fishing has become an important component of the national ecotourism industry, yet our fundamental understanding of these fisheries is limited. Scientific data about the distribution and behavior of near-shore populations of sailfish and blue marlin, two of the most targetted billfish species by sport fishers, is limited. On the other hand, local ecological knowledge (LEK) is increasingly being recognized as a valuable component of ecological studies.
Local people interact with the environment on a daily basis, yearlong, and over generations.

Fishers in Costa Rica have been observing billfish trends closely for many years and possess a wealth of knowledge about the billfish fishery. Combining Western fishery science with fishers' ecological knowledge may be a valuable way to fill data gaps, hear the perspectives of local stakeholders, and create management decisions that serve both the ocean and the local communities that depend on them.

This past summer, I set out to investigate ecological questions about the billfish fishery on the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica through the ecological knowledge of local sport fishers. I asked myself, “how can fisher knowledge become a part of ecological modeling in order to provide scientific, ecological, and social value for fishery science and management?” I interviewed over 50 fishermen in the sport fishing industry and asked them questions about the availability and distribution of billfish species. I also asked them how these billfish populations and environmental factors have changed over time. I am incredibly grateful to the fishermen I met for sharing their knowledge and time.

I will analyze the information I learned from the fishermen in Costa Rica through a mixed-methods approach, combining both social and natural science techniques, as a means of giving voice to local perspectives, enhancing understanding of the environmental and anthropogenic variables influencing billfish populations and distribution, and advising equitable and effective future marine conservation planning in the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica. I look forward to sharing what is learned from this investigation with all interested parties including the participants of the study. I hope to continue to learn about Costa Rican fisheries from the diverse perspectives of all stakeholders.

This project is a part of Stanford University’s DynaMar Project. This project was also supported by the Alan S. Tetelman 1958 Fellowship for Research in the Sciences.

Snapshots from a recent research trip to the Canadian Arctic | GFF '21

This stunning mural (located just beside the Aquatic Centre) is one of several you will spot around Iqaluit.

Snapshots from a recent research trip to the Canadian Arctic
Sappho Gilbert, PhD Candidate, Yale School of Public Health, Department of Chronic Disease Epidemiology

“What’s your dissertation topic?”

Doctoral students are often asked some version of this question. While my specific answer depends on the audience, I usually respond along the lines of: “I work with the local government and Inuit communities in the Canadian Arctic to study how environmental and other variables impact food security and population nutrition.”

TL;DR?  Here’s my (short) running title I’ll use in a pinch: “Arctic health and food security.”

No matter my reply, the tête-à-tête virtually always continues with a kindled curiosity: “Wow, the Arctic!  What’s it like up there?”

It’s understandably tough to imagine life – let alone research – in the remote, northernmost parts of our globe.  In North America, the Arctic is geographically distant from the vast majority of our population; this is true for Americans vis-à-vis Alaska as well as for Canadians (90% of whom live within 100 miles of the United States border).  Even if one decides to visit an Arctic destination, it can be logistically complex and quite expensive to get, stay, eat, and sightsee up there.

Interestingly, Iceland and Norway have become tourist hotspots over roughly the past decade.  At various times of year, social media teems with the Arctic’s magical nature: frozen fjords; moving, majestic icebergs; the glow of the midnight sun peeking through a camping tent door; and the mesmerizing ribbon dance of the aurora borealis.  Such moments are, indeed, incredible and exist all around the Arctic Circle; yet, picturing day-to-day life in a circumpolar community remains elusive to most.

Thus, when the Yale Sustainable Food Program (YSFP) invited me to share a peek into life as a researcher working with circumpolar communities as part of my doctoral studies, I was thrilled.  Right after spring term ended, I headed up to the Canadian Arctic territory of Nunavut (the geographic focus of my dissertation) and took these photos during my stay.  I hope you enjoy this window into the magnificent North!

Before we dive into the pictures, I’d like to express my deepest gratitude to YSFP for supporting my dissertation research through the Global Food Fellowship Program.  I also wish to thank the following additional funders of this community-partnered work: the National Institutes of Health’s National Institute Environmental Health Sciences (F31 National Research Service Award), the Yale Center on Climate Change & Health (Pre-Doctoral Fellowship), P.E.O. International (Scholar Award), and the Yale Institute for Biospheric Studies (Science Communication Fellowship).  Finally, I am grateful for the collaborations with and support of my Dissertation Advisory Committee, F31 Co-Sponsors, and colleagues in Nunavut, across Canada, and beyond – without whom this work would not be possible.

Welcome to Iqaluit (Nunavut’s capital), located on Frobisher Bay with a population of 7,429! (Screenshot taken of my Google Maps iOS app)

Flights from “the South” (as the provinces of Canada are called here) to the territory are extremely expensive – and even more so between communities. Someone once told me it cost the same for her to fly round-trip from Pond Inlet to Iqaluit as it did for her to fly between Ottawa and Southeast Asia!

Fresh powder falling steadily at 11 PM in mid-May. Two misconceptions I regularly hear are either that it’s “cold and dark year-round” or that “it must be cold and dark for 6 months straight” (followed by 6 months of light). Neither is true! Well, I guess “cold” is relative, and yes, it is usually much colder in Iqaluit than in Halifax or New Haven (the latter of which was enjoying a perfectly sunny 72°F/22°C when I left it). However, a typical summer day in Iqaluit is close to a chilly New Haven spring or autumn one – a simple jacket should work! Regarding light, only the Earth’s northernmost and southernmost points experience equal periods of darkness and daylight. Grise Fiord, the most northern community in Nunavut, goes dark “only” from November to mid-February and basks in 24 hours of sunlight in an analogous stretch in the summer.

Home base – and a local project partner – for many of us researchers: the Nunavut Research Institute!

The Unikkaarvik Visitor Centre features cool maps, dioramas, some amazing art, and historical, geographic, and cultural information about Nunavut and the Inuit. When you visit, be sure to also check out the curated art and gift shop at the Nunatta Sunakkutaangit Museum next door.

A delightful night in with friends noshing on Arctic char sushi rolls by 100% Inuit owned Sijjakkut. In a word: yum!

Speaking of food, this is one of the heaviest financial burdens of life here. The prices of store-bought food are notoriously high across the North American Arctic; should you prefer to harvest, the costs associated with hunting, sealing, whaling, or even fishing can also quickly escalate. Nunavut Country Food is a conveniently located option in town that sells a variety of harvested food (dubbed “country food”).

On a crisp and windy morning, I treated myself to a quick, pre-meeting bite and coffee at Black Heart Café, a popular spot for casual or business meet-ups.

The Iqaluit Aquatic Centre boasts a 25-meter lap pool, lazy river, waterslide, saunas, hot tub, and fitness facility. On my third day, I ran (ahem, swam) into an old acquaintance during a lunch hour dip. It's a small town, after all!

This stunning mural (located just beside the Aquatic Centre) is one of several you will spot around Iqaluit.

Armory Community Garden in Photos | YFSI '22

This post is part of Brianna Jefferson’s 2022 Yale Farm Summer Internship Independent Project.

The focus of my Independent Project was researching the significance of community gardens in cities experiencing food apartheid. I was interested in the role of these gardens, and how they helped connect individuals in their collective struggles. I also knew that I wanted to focus on New Haven, because it’s a space that I haven’t spent enough time examining in my regular coursework. My defining questions for my project were about the use of the word “community” to describe these gardens. Does the element of “community” help empower citizens and bring them together in their food struggles? How important is having a community? My research methods involved studying the different types of community gardens in New Haven and choosing one as the case study. I chose to focus on Armory Community Garden because not only does it do a wonderful job of connecting people with the land, and fresh produce, but it also emphasizes the importance of community. Armory is a place of gathering, and hosts community events that range from book club meetings, to Juneteenth celebrations, and cooking demonstrations. During my time volunteering at the garden, I saw children from as young as six years old running around and helping with the lettuce harvest, to an elderly woman in a wheelchair helping to water the crops. The space is open to everyone in the community and welcomes them in. My photo essay was a way for me to celebrate the work that Armory Garden does and share what I learned over the course of my summer.

Reclaiming Raíces: Tradition, Place, and Curanderismo in the Land of Enchantment | YFSI '22

This post is part of Carmen Ortega’s 2022 Yale Farm Summer Internship Independent Project.

This summer, I’ve thought a lot about the concept of place, which “encompasses not only a specific location and the physical world, but also the human relationships and meanings that unfold there” (Schnell 624). Physical space becomes place when we “get to know it better and endow it with value,” and “there is no place without self and no self without place.” (Casey 684, Tuan 6).

My independent project began with a question about place: how have Indigenous and Mestizo food and agricultural traditions in New Mexico contributed to the state’s unique sense of place, particularly as catalysts for spirituality, healing, and community? I came to this question after reflecting on why I was drawn to the Yale Farm internship in the first place: my raíces (roots). I am a proud Nuevo Mexicana, raised in Albuquerque and part of the Ortega, Maes, Chavez, and Padilla families from central and northern New Mexico. I identify as Mestiza; on both sides, my family can trace our ancestry back to the sixteenth-century Spanish colonists of the region, and, like most Hispanic New Mexicans, we also have Indigenous ancestry.

In preparation for a recent discussion, the farm interns read a piece about decolonization in settler colonial states. One sentence, about the way Native Americans have been racialized in the United States, stood out to me: "Native Americanness is subtractive: Native Americans are constructed to become fewer in number and less Native, but never exactly white, over time" (Tuck & Yang). First, I want to acknowledge that my racial identity of "Mestiza," of mixed Indigenous and European ancestry, gives me a certain degree of privilege. But this sentence also made me ponder how Mestizos in New Mexico were forcibly stripped of their "Native Americanness"-- my family speaks Spanish, and we were able to learn the names of our European ancestors through Catholic church records, yet we know extraordinarily little about our Indigenous ones. As a result, I have also been racialized by this country as less native, but never exactly white. This realm of precarity and uncertainty about my Indigeneity has always left me searching for my raíces that were lost to settler colonialism.

The path that I’ve chosen toward reclaiming these raíces and understanding “place” in New Mexico is through plants and food. In her article “Decolonize your Diet,” Catrióna Rueda Esquibel explains that growing and eating heritage food is a form of cultural and physical survival. When I think about both of my grandmothers and their commitment to nourishing their families with the recipes they learned from their mothers, grandmothers, and from preceding generations, I see this cultural survival at play. This project represents my love and admiration of food and plants as family, medicine, community, and place in “la tierra del encanto” (the land of enchantment).

Small Town Kid Goes to Yale to Dig Up Carrots | YFSI '22

This post is part of Eli White’s 2022 Yale Farm Summer Internship Independent Project.

Small Town Kid Goes to Yale to Dig Up Carrots

This summer I thought about beauty, aesthetics, and practice. The link to the watercolors I created can be found here, and my thoughts on the project follow. 

1: Why?

I wrote this web of questions down at the beginning of the summer not as a laundry list of answers I hoped to walk out of this project with, but as the lens through which I wanted to approach all our conversations about agriculture. Beauty. Other words I considered: wonder, wholesome, magic, healthy, right, aesthetics, good—but I kept returning to beauty. Sometimes it seems silly, in a world with this many problems, to think about what is beautiful. And yet, I’m becoming more and more convinced that it’s not silly at all. Beauty is a serious matter. Beauty provokes serious questions. 

“Why?” is a serious question. There are two ways to ask it—first, as a matter of causality. The food system is a dense, intricate web of causality. When you start to examine the roots of beauty in it, you find both astonishing and terrible sources. Genocide, opression, ongoing dispossesion of personhood. Yet also resistance, tradition, culture, family, human connection. Food as the ugly blade of injustice. Food as the shield of human care, a tapestry of community. If I’m doing nothing else with this project, I’m trying to convince you it’s worth thinking about what is beautiful. Beauty is revealing, both in its presence and its absence. It’s worth trying to see the world as a painter, thinking in color. Thinking in beauty. 

The second way to ask the question “Why?” is a question of purpose and meaning. Of all the questions we ask, this is the one with the answer that doesn’t exist. “Why?” isn’t out there as “who?” or “what?” or “when?” or “where?” or “why?” as a question of “how?” are; we made “why?” up. It’s only in our heads. And I suppose that’s not to say that it doesn’t exist at all—our heads are part of this strange universe too—but it remains up to us. I found I could not write my answer in words, so I turned to watercolor. 

2: Control

Farming and food are defined by control. The history of food, which we continue to write, is an account of how various human societies try to control and organize themselves. It contains examples of extreme cruelty. It contains examples of staggering kindness. What do the aesthetics of different farms say about their practices? Take for example the enormous monoculture crop of corn, bred to choke out all other life with the help of synthetic pesticides, or the tomato bred for uniformity and mechanical sorting. And consider alongside them a permaculture homestead where, despite endeavoring to follow nature’s example, every foot of land has been shaped by human hands. 

Consider also, the loss of control in farming. With the ongoing drought ravaging the West, many of the farmers I knew growing up in Colorado are facing an increasingly bleak future. Native farmers of the Diné, Ute, and other tribes that have farmed in the Southwest for generations no longer can. Farmers everywhere are looking at a future of less and less control. 

Water soluble pigments also have a long human history of control. There are varied traditions of mediums that can be called watercolor, ranging from the 19th century British watercolorists, to the much older brush paintings of East Asia, to prehistoric cave paintings. Watercolor, generally requiring less resources than oil, helped increase access to art in Europe as it gained respect. But watercolor was also used as a tool of British imperialism, with traveling painters in India bringing landscapes back to wealthy British oligarchs to help justify colonization. 

I try to find a middle ground when painting and farming—between wanting to control every inch of a project, and letting it take what form it will. We cannot hold the entirety of things in our small, mortal hands; we have to learn to let things be as they will. Working in watercolor is already giving up a lot of control. Even with the strongest lightfast paint, watercolors will fade eventually. But natural water soluble pigments fade even faster. In some ways, I think I achieved that middle ground with my work this summer, and in others, I didn’t. The amount of control I end up having over my painting is, often, out of my control. 

My painting bag, containing: one chronically messy palette, nine brushes rubber-banded to each other, a bag of pigments, pencils, metal sharpener, sandpaper sharpener, a kneaded eraser that I’m always losing, an ever-growing collection of ink pens, one small sketchbook, and one tiny sketchbook

3: Agriculture and Home, Space and Change

Agriculture is space.

Mancos valley, where I grew up, looking west, towards Mesa Verde and Sleeping Ute, Winter 2021

Megan Tallmadge (left) and my mother Sara Wakefield (right) in the grocery store they founded, Zuma Natural Foods with their children. Photo credit: Megan Tallmadge

My father (far left) covering a high tunnel in the Mancos Valley, circa 2014. Photo credit: Sarah Syverson

The Wily Carrot, an organic vegetable farm in the Mancos Valley, Southwest Colorado, Summer 2021. Photo credit: Kellie Pettyjohn

Kellie Pettyjohn working in a tomato high tunnel, Wily Carrot Farm, 2013. Photo credit: Kellie Pettyjohn, Tim Stubbs

The first “urban community garden” in my life, Mancos Valley Mount Lookout Grange, Summer 2013. Photo credit: Jennifer Bamesberger

Agriculture is change.

New Haven at sunrise from East Rock, Winter 2021

View of Harkness tower, Yale Campus, New Haven from Sterling Library, fall 2021

The Yale Farm, Summer 2022

Sparrow rests next to the Yale Farm tomato high tunnel, Summer 2022

Yale Farm: Hens, Red Oak Butter Lettuce, Sugar Ann Snap Peas, Summer 2022

4: Water

Few things are as essential as water. I tend to enjoy painting, when I can, en plein air—outside, from life. During the hot summer days I spent painting on the Yale Farm this summer, my paint “drank” the same water as I did, poured gently from my nalgene to the little cuts that clip on to the side of my palette. Without water, the brushes and the little dry mounds of pigment on my palette are useless, essentially dead. Similarly, a plant may have roots in the most nutrient rich soil in the world, but without water, it will die. 

I grew up in a place that was more desert than forest or farm. The dry season at home is defined by dusty skies and raging forest fires. But when the winter snow melts in April, and the monsoons arrive in August, the valley blooms. Of course, there has never been a moment I have been alive where the Southwest has not been in a drought. Sometimes it looks like there might never be. And, largely due to agriculture, the Colorado River never reaches the sea. 

5: Care

In Buddhist practice, there are two broad categories of meditation—mindfulness and metta, a sanskrit word meaning loving-kindness. Mindfulness focuses on bringing awareness to the entirety of what a person is experiencing. Loving-kindness focuses on cultivating compassion, often visualized as a light that expands from yourself, to the people you love, to the people you know, to the whole world, to the whole universe. Painting—often sitting rather still with a particular subject or place for many hours on end in solitude and silence—I have learned is a wonderful activity to apply what I have learned in meditation. 

As an active, intentional practice, I love the Yale Farm, and I love agriculture. I think there’s a lot to be said for the potential of agriculture to transform us. This summer I spent a lot of time just sitting with the space, painting. Caring. Asking why it was here, why it was beautiful, why I found it beautiful. Controlling, and letting go of control. Thinking about where I came from. Drinking water from the Yale Farm spigot—which I swear tastes better than any other water in New Haven. And I found most of what I was feeling could not be put into words, but it could be put into color. 

Here are my paintings and sketches. They’re not just of what the Yale Farm looks like, but of the experience of being there. Or, at least, my experience. And I hope they spark some thoughts, or some joy. I hope there’s some beauty to be found here. 

Hens

Sugar Ann Snap Peas

Looking toward Edwards St

Young Corn

Red Oak Butter Lettuce

Incomplete painting of the pavillion

Sketch for apple tree painting

A Sonnet for an Apple Tree

When I consider our time together,

Ere the invocations of the falling leaves,

It will not matter much, I gather

That we, being mortal, must take our leave

In study of the fracturing of light

Into viridescence upon your boughs,

The name of beauty I found I could not write,

But I knew that it did not matter now.

Our bodies carry many questions

But affording them no resolution

No longer loads me with fear or tensions

We seek the deeper roots: revolution.

This is love, not as an afterthought

If you leave the fruit, it may go to rot

(I write one thing: It matters)

Liberty Apple Tree

"Peaking" Into Colorado's Regenerative Agriculture | YFSI '22

This post is part of Natalie Smink’s 2022 Yale Farm Summer Internship Independent Project

This summer I asked myself the question: What is the intersection of ecology, climate change, and agriculture, and how does this intersection point to possible forms of climate change mitigation? Specifically, what does this intersection look like in my home state of Colorado? 

Growing up in the suburbs of Denver, Colorado I had very little exposure to farming. My dad kept a garden in our backyard, but whenever I thought of farming I imagined a grain field far off to the east in the plains or scent of manure carried by the winds from feed lots up north. I was ignorant to the impact of agriculture on the environment and its contribution to climate change and even more oblivious to the fact that it could also serve as a solution. 

Regenerative agriculture is a farming concept that focuses on the health of the soil and overall ecosystem over the yield and its practices stem from indigenous knowledge. By employing certain practices such as low or no tilling, cover cropping, compost application, and livestock integration, regenerative agriculture fosters a healthy soil ecosystem that requires no chemical inputs and is more adaptable to climate fluxes. Regenerative agriculture works with the natural ecosystems to grow food, while also sequestering carbon out of the atmosphere. The philosophies of its practices also extend beyond the field and into social spaces. The wholistic approach to regnerate the land also calls for people to regenerate their connection with the land and for land to be given back to the communities that have historically farmed it. The current industrial practices that are stripping the soils of their nutrients are reliant on the same government systems that have stolen land from indigenous groups and black farmers for hundreds of years. Thus regnerative agriculture calls for a fight against climate change and a fight for social justice. 

Initially, my researching into regenerative farming in Colorado focused on its potential to help protect farmers from the chronic drought conditions that the state faces. Investigating regenerative agriculture in Colorado provided me the opportunity to learn how my home is adapting to changing climates, while also getting to connect with farms in the state. I looked into the Colorado Department of Agriculture’s Soil Health Program that is working to educate more farmers on practices that will improve their soil health and identified self-labled regenerative farmers across the state. All of the farms I looked into were small scale farms that offered Community Shared Agriculture programs to their local communities that allow communities members to pay for shares of the farm’s produce. They all used a variety of regenerative farming techniques like no tilling, cover cropping, and compost application. Through a conversation with a regenerative farmer and the implementation of the CDA’s Soil Health Program, regenerative farming practices seem to be gaining momentum through out the state and more farmers are starting to adopt them. This provides hope that overtime these practices will be come more wide spread and will reduce the impact that human agriculture is having on the planet. 

Despite this increasing push towards regenerative farming, through out my research into Colorado regenerative farmers, all but one of the farmers that I encountered was white. This observation leaves me with my next steps to continue this project. I hope to continue investigating agriculture in Colorado, but through a more social lens in the future that asks what Colorado is doing to increase land availability to farmers of color. In order for regenerative farming to truely regenerate the land and the people who live on it, it must fight the systems of injustice that continuously disempower BIPOC communities and keep them from the land. 

Symbiosis and Community, as Taught by Fungi | YFSI '22

This post is part of Raina Sparks’s 2022 Yale Farm Summer Internship Independent Project.

How does a mushroom interact with the world around it? What does a mushroom represent? How can we learn from a mushroom? These were the guiding questions that brought me to center fungi in my final project. Early in my research for the internship, I learned how mycorrhizal fungi use tendrils called hyphae to attach to plant roots and form a symbiotic relationship with them, allowing the roots to uptake more nutrients from the soil and allowing the hyphae sugars from the plant roots. These interactions form robust underground networks which even allow plants to “communicate” with each other by sharing nutrients through mycorrhizae. This set of relationships seemed to me so positive and wholesome, and a wonderful model for healthy community interactions even in human relationships, those formed through mutual exchange and helping each other. This inspired me to use my Independent Project to explore and celebrate fungi, in two parts. First, I chose to explore an embodied practice and grow some Blue Oyster Mushrooms, so as to gain a hands-on understanding of what fungi need to thrive. Second, I used oil pastels to make a few art pieces in celebration of the relationships fostered by fungi, of their abundance and necessity to a healthy community. You can view my full project presentation here.

Maple Syrup: A Sugar Shack’s History | YFSI '22

This post is part of Sasha Carney’s 2022 Yale Farm Summer Internship Independent Project.

I have a longstanding academic, creative, and personal interest in the specific ecology and plants of the Ottawa Valley region, a swathe of unceded Algonquin Anishinaabeg land that straddles from the country’s political capital in anglophone Ontario to the quasi-rural communities of southwestern francophone Québec. I was raised in the city of Ottawa, a sleepy bilingual city of a million that is notable for two things: its strong outdoors culture and investment in the Canadian “wilderness,” and the construction and maintenance of a national Canadian political identity in a city whose primary employer is the federal government.

For my independent project, I looked at the particular ways in which maple tree, and the associated sap drilled from its trunk and refined into a food product, serve as a metonymy for “Canadian identity.” In particular, my final piece, in the form of a creative short story looked at the regional phenomenon of the “sugar shack,” a semi-commercial establishment that operates both the production of syrup and syrup products, and the hosting of guests who are given the opportunity to eat maple-based meals in pioneer-style cabins, boil their own syrup, and feel a “part of” the production processes themselves. Every Ottawa public school student is taken on a yearly field trip to the space; in working on this project, I began the process of digging through and beyond my own affective emotional and memory-based ties to “the sugar shack” and towards their wider cultural and political meaning(s).

Here is a link to my powerpoint presentation on my independent project.

Here is the link to my short story (a work in progress).

9th Annual Melon Forum

On April 13th, 2022, from 5:00-7:00 P.M., the Yale Sustainable Food Program hosted its ninth annual Melon Forum, during which seniors presented their theses on topics in food and agriculture at St. Anthony Hall. We are so grateful to have been able to gather and celebrate these seniors’ culminating studies at our first in-person Melon Forum in two years. If you weren’t able to attend, you can view the 2022 Melon Forum Brochure, which features seven seniors: Sol Thompson, Nat Irwin, Camden Smithtro, Alaina Perry, Elea Hewitt, Sophie Lieberman, and Catherine Rutherfurd. View all event photos here.

In a sunlit wooden room, where leather-backed books filled the shelves, over 40 students gathered to watch their peers present the projects they had spent a year or more working on. Outside, it was just beginning to look like spring, and thin, feeble branches beginning to bud with green leaves knocked against the scratched panes of the windows. The refreshments, including sprigs of green grapes, various types of cheeses, cupcakes, crackers, and wine, kept students full and ready to listen to the presenters. As the clatter died down, seniors took 15-minutes to explain their research and answer questions from curious audience members. 

Presenters included Sol Thompson ’22, who discussed his travels across Australia and the mental health impacts on farmers dealing with failing crop outputs; Nat Irwin ’22, who compared what qualifies as ‘regenerative agriculture’ across New Hampshire and Vermont; Camden Smithtro ’22, who studied the Land Institute’s usage of the term ‘regenerative agriculture’; Alaina Perry ’22, who analyzed a series of art pieces and their usage of food and dining elements; Elea Hewitt ’22, who researched the agricultural systems of her hometown in Willamette Valley, Oregon; and Catherine Rutherford ’22, who studied women’s impact on the kitchen designs and diets in public housing in the 1900s. (Thompson, Irwin, Smithtro, Perry, and Rutherford are all a part of the YSFP!). 

A huge thanks to YSFP Farm Manager Sarah Pillard ’22 for all her event planning and execution. Thank you also to St. A’s for hosting this beloved YSFP event. 

Photos by Reese Neal ’25. Please follow this link to view all the photos from the event.

Graphic design by Kapp Singer ’23. 

Post by Sarah Feng ’25. 

Workday & knead 2 know | Friday, April 1st

On April 1, 2022, the YSFP held its first Farm workday and outdoor knead 2 know of the spring semester. The afternoon was spent propagating lettuces and mustards, turning the compost pile, weeding asparagus, tending to the chickens, and shaping beds for over 1,000 strawberry plants that will soon arrive at the Farm. While many of the beds on the Farm experience frequent turnover, the strawberry plants are a more long-term installment; they will be a constant, beloved presence for several years. The workday began with a burst of hail and concluded with brilliant sunshine. Students then headed up to the Lazarus Pavilion to gather, eat pizza made by culinary events managers new and old, and listen to Charlotte Emerson ‘22 give her knead 2 know presentation. Charlotte shared original creative writing about a peanut fair in Georgia, inspired by stories from her father, who grew up in West Virginia. Charlotte discussed how fiction can be used as an engaging and academically rigorous tool of research and detailed her own experiences investigating strains of peanuts and the cultural histories and practices associated with the crop. Charlotte also posed the question of what it might mean or feel like to “write about a place that is not your own.” On Friday, though, the Farm belonged to everyone who attended, as students relished the return to the space and to each other. Many thanks to all who showed up.

Photos by Reese Neal ’25. Please follow this link to view all the photos from the event.

Moonlight Stories on the Farm

Under a full moon on November 18th, YSFP students Kayley Estoesta ’21 and Ally Soong ’22 hosted a night of spoken word poetry and music on the Farm. With the theme of moonlight stories to guide them, students came together to share their work, perform for each other, and enjoy some bubbling apple crumble during a chilly evening of community. We hope to turn this event—co-hosted with the Jook Songs—into an annual celebration on the Farm. Photos by Reese Neal ’25.

Fall Feast: Celebrating Indigenous Food Pathways

On November 18th, 2021, the YSFP hosted Fall Feast: Celebrating Indigenous Food Pathways in partnership with the Native American Cultural Center. The lunchtime event brought together our communities over a delicious meal, thoughtfully prepared by NACC-YSFP Liaison and Seedkeeper Catherine Webb ’23. The menu, which featured Three Sisters chili, fried squash patties, cornbread, and ground cherry pie, utilized produce grown in the Three Sisters plot on the Farm, including Buffalo Creek Squash, Skunk Beans, and White Cap Corn, grown from seeds gifted to us by Liz Charlebois, a member of the Abenaki tribe. To learn more about the Three Sisters, read Catherine’s beautiful blog post and poem. You can also read the Yale Daily News article about the event here. Many, many thanks to everyone who made this event a success! Photos by Reese Neal ’25.

Soil Health Policy Guidebook with Abbey Warner YSE '22 and Darya Watnick YSE '22

This November, the Yale Center for Business and the Environment’s Regenerative Agriculture Initiative published the Soil Health Policy guidebook. The report, written by Abbey Warner YSE ’22 and Darya Watnick YSE ’22, offers recommendations for creating community-driven, state-level soil health policy and programs. YSFP communications team member Kapp Singer ’23 sat down with Warner and Watnick to learn a little more about the goals of and approaches to creating the guidebook.

This interview has been edited lightly for length and clarity.

Abbey Warner YSE ‘22 (left) and Darya Watnick YSE ‘22, the authors of the Soil Health Policy guidebook.

Kapp Singer: Why is soil health so important?

Darya Watnick: Soil health is the basis for anything that you're growing because all of the nutrients live in the soil. Soil holds water, so thinking about the soil health as a baseline means that anything else growing in the soil is going to have better yields, better health, and better nutritional value in some cases. The better your soil, the more resilient your crops are going to be to droughts or pests. There are just so many benefits to thinking about farming through the lens of soil.

Abbey Warner: The only other thing I would add is the importance of having a broader view of soils—how are they also relevant to people who aren’t farmers or thinking about food systems? Soil provides a range of ecosystem services, from water filtration, to nutrient cycling, to food provisioning, which are all really critical to how we grow our food and our fiber. It’s also really important for other benefits related to water pollution or the ability to withstand drought and have more healthy ecosystems.

KS: What motivated you to create the Soil Health Policy guidebook?

DW: I had a summer internship in the summer of 2020 working with some folks who were starting a community group to launch a bill that would hopefully create a soil health program for the state of Colorado, run through the state’s Department of Agriculture. I have continued working for them since that summer—it’s almost been a year and a half at this point—and the program is now in place in Colorado, which is very exciting. I’d been talking to my supervisor about how we learned so much through that process, and how there are other states that are interested in following this same path. We came to the conclusion that we should write it down so that people don’t have to reinvent the wheel. There’s an initiative at the Center for Business and the Environment at Yale (CBEY) called the Regenerative Agriculture Initiative (RAI) that provides funding for student projects related to regenerative agriculture, and I thought this would be a cool opportunity.

AW: Darya and I were chatting about what to do for RAI and because she had already come up with a great idea, I was super on board. I had also been working in Colorado that summer and was really interested in the farming challenges there—ideas around soil health and water management. We ended up getting funding through RAI to create a guidebook that would collect all of these lessons learned from Colorado and also from other states that had passed soil health bills or programs, including California and New Mexico. We interviewed over 30 stakeholders from those states and also from other states that were in the process of working on soil health legislation or coalition-building to try to understand both the lessons learned and the needs of groups not as far along in the process. We were trying to strike a balance between providing concrete recommendations that are practical, but not overly prescriptive, because each state has a very different context around soil health.

KS: Your report outlines that a community-based approach is key to tackling issues of soil health. What kind of results or outcomes become possible when the whole community is involved?

AW: At its most basic level, having community involvement in soil health policy-building is really the only way to get these sorts of policies and programs passed. With every natural resource issue that you’re working on, there’s always going to be different sides to issues. There’s also a lot of very real concerns that different stakeholders have about how agricultural policy is made, how environmental policy is made, and the repercussions those policies could have for certain communities. It was really interesting hearing about how in some cases, it wasn’t even necessary to organize for the support of certain stakeholder groups—like commodity crop organizations—but to organize to the point that they wouldn’t actively oppose a certain policy.

DW: Community-building also helps bring farmers or ranchers—whoever is going to be implementing the practices—to the table, because they’re the ones who are going to be doing this work on their fields. You could have the greatest program, but if they don’t feel like it’s actually valuable to them in any way or worth their time to implement, then obviously you’re not going to have a good result or make a real impact. 

KS: Tell me about your approach to creating this guidebook. Are there any notable parts of the process you’d like to share?”

AW: Darya and I came in with a really concrete idea about what we wanted to do, which was helpful in keeping focused throughout the process. The first semester we were working on this mainly involved background research, outlining the project, and getting the Institutional Review Board (IRB) exemption so we could interview people. Then, in January of last year, we started our interview process, and that was when we interviewed over 30 different stakeholders. That was my favorite part of the process—it was really interesting to talk to all these people and get to ask them questions about what sort of lessons they wanted to share with other people, or what sorts of things they were curious about in soil health policy-making. We were able to tap into this wide network of people from different worlds, but who are all really coming together on soil health. I felt so lucky to get to talk to all of those folks. Then, at the end of the spring semester, we started our writing process. We outlined and drafted the guidebook and then edited it throughout the summer and into the fall, and then we worked with a design team to help us format it so that it would look fun and exciting to read instead of looking like a typical research paper.

DW: We split up the sections and did a little writing retreat—we went to an AirBnB for a weekend and spent hours writing. This was a huge part of how it got done—just sitting down and forcing ourselves to write.

Soil Health Policy: Developing Community-Driven State Soil Health Policy and Programs (November 2021). Click here to read the full report.

KS: Now that the report has been published, whose hands do you hope it will end up in? Who do you think would benefit most from reading through the Soil Health Policy guidebook?

AW: We’re really hoping it ends up in the hands of either already established groups that are hoping to drive soil health policy-building in their state, or maybe in the hands of state agency staffers or legislative staffers who are already thinking about soil health and other environmental issues.

DW: We wrote it for a very specific audience—the groups Abbey just mentioned—so hopefully it finds its way to that audience. 

AW: And that could also include people at nonprofits, or really anyone who is interested in soil health, which is cool. There are definitely states that are already interested in this work, like Montana, Nebraska, and Virginia. There are lots of different people who are already thinking about this all over the nation. Hopefully they can pick the report up wherever they are in that process and find something useful to them.

KS: Is there anything else you’d like people to know about the guidebook that I haven’t asked about?

AW: We’ve gotten some feedback from some people that this toolkit could be helpful for other natural resource issues like urban greening. Since a lot of the tips we were trying to give are very practical, and not necessarily exclusively related to soil health, anyone who is trying to build a coalition around a natural resource issue may find something useful in it.

KS: Thank you both so much.