As one of the Ecosystems Technicians this Summer on SḴŦAḴ | Mayne Island, I’ve spent many days in a variety of landscapes across the island. From removing Scotch broom at the height of soaring turkey vultures on Henderson Hill, to meticulously combing through herbaceous plants on my hands and knees for the invasive bur chervil, each project has offered a new perspective on the island’s landscapes from sea to sky. Earlier this month, I got to experience a new perspective, one from a unique project located at the Hedgerow Farm Wetland: a booming, diverse wetland that extends far, far beyond what our eyes can see.

As we walked through the wetland during the Mayne Conservancy’s annual vegetation and photo monitoring sporting waders, wet suits, and sun hats, I tried to visualize what lay beneath our steps. It’s easy to define wetlands by what we can see on the surface. How can you not? It’s an array of life with constant movement catching your eye. From red-winged blackbirds diving to protect their nests, tree swallows whizzing by, and pacific chorus frogs croaking, it’s a busy place. Standing waist deep in the depths of the wetland, it was hard to imagine the story that transpired here.

2019 vs 2026: A before and after at Hedgerow Farm after reflooding.

Over centuries, wetlands accumulate organic matter and nutrients from the surrounding watershed and store huge amounts of carbon. They filter water, support a diverse array of life, and regulate the hydrology of the surrounding landscape. These services often remain invisible to us but are fundamental to the health of the ecosystem community, a community that we are a part of.

  This is of particular importance here in the Southern Gulf Islands. On SḴŦAḴ | Mayne Island, wetlands only cover a small percentage of the island’s land area, yet make a disproportionately large contribution to these services: groundwater recharge, carbon storage, water filtration and wildlife habitat. Originally making up 6.1% (143 hectares) of the island, wetlands have been reduced to just 0.8% (18 hectares) because of development. Of the 18 hectares remaining of undeveloped wetlands, about a quarter lie within Hedgerow Farm. Functioning wetlands slow and store water, allowing more time for water to percolate into surrounding soils and recharge aquifers, rather than draining quickly to the sea. On an island that relies heavily on groundwater for both agricultural and domestic use, these services are becoming increasingly more important.

Hedgerow Farm, owned by Kristine Webber and Peter Robinson, sits within the largest broad lowland valley on SḴŦAḴ | Mayne Island, shaped by decades of past ditching, draining, development and logging. Over time, livestock grazed the area, soils became compacted, riparian vegetation died off, and invasive species took hold. Despite these changes, the landscape persisted: pockets of native wetland vegetation remained, and the area flooded seasonally each year, giving hope to future restoration efforts.

Recognizing the importance of this ecosystem, landholders and farmers Kristine and Peter partnered with the Mayne Conservancy in 2018. The goal was to restore the ecological functions of the wetland within the context of the working farm. This includes reconnecting fragmented wetland habitats, restoring historical hydrology to a portion of the wetland, and establishing a continuous transition from wetland to upland forest. In turn, this provides flood control, soil moisture retention, and habitat for native species.

Since 2018, the site has undergone a remarkable transformation. Almost a hectare of compacted soil was roughened and loosened to improve infiltration and create conditions more suitable for native vegetation to succeed, while Kristine and Peter’s farm remained productive. More than 6,000 native trees and shrubs were planted, a 1,500-meter-long deer fence was installed, and a weir was constructed to return year-round flooding to 2.6 hectares. The increase of life within the wetland since 2018 can be overwhelming, with a deafening chorus of Pacific chorus frogs, an increase in bird diversity and abundance, and the recovery of wetland plants.

Since 2023, Peter and Kristine have continued to install deer fencing to protect the farm, including joining the two original wetland spaces. The goal is to enclose the major agricultural fields, but an additional outcome will be to protect ecologically sensitive landscapes from overgrazing by deer.

The reduction of reed canary grass (Phalaris arundinacea), an aggressive introduced grass species that outcompetes native plants, is one of many encouraging outcomes in this restoration journey. Annual monitoring in the wetland shows that reed canary grass cover has declined, dropping from over 80% cover within seven monitoring plots in 2020 to less than 5% in 2024, and 20% this year in 2026. This decline is primarily a result of increasing the water level in the wetland. As you can see in Figure 1 below, the higher the water level, the lower the percent cover of reed canary grass. By restoring wetter conditions, the project has helped reduce competition by reed canary grass while creating space for native animals such as amphibians, insects, bats, and birds.

Figure 1. Graph depicting the inverse relationship between average reed canary grass % cover and average water depth within the Hedgerow Farm Wetland from 2019 – 2026. Averages were calculated from seven monitoring stations distributed throughout the wetland. All measurements were recorded at the end of May each year. The weir was installed in fall 2020 and the beaver constructed a dam in the summer of 2023, which was reduced in 2025 to prevent flooding in agricultural areas.

A key takeaway from working at Hedgerow is that restoration isn’t linear, just like the ecosystems we seek to restore. Rather than following a fixed script, the effort of restoration reflects an ongoing relationship with the land that is constantly changing and responding to change. For instance, the return of beavers has posed both a challenge and evidence of success. These skillful residents and their commitment to engineering have contributed to higher water levels than those observed in previous years (see figure 1), exceeding the water level identified as desired as a balance between wetland restoration and farming activities. The beavers have also found dinners and lunches in the planted trees and shrubs, in some cases confounding the restoration goals. The return of these rodent ecosystem engineers is a sign that the land is starting to behave more like a wetland again – complex and shaped by these unique species that engineer their habitat. This ongoing tension is what restoration looks like in practice. It’s less about recreating images of the past, and more about restoring the processes that allow the landscape to adapt, respond and thrive over time. People are a part of that process too.

For millennia, Indigenous peoples have maintained and continue to maintain relationships with these lands and waters by recognizing that humans are a part of the ecosystem rather than separate from it. Restoration offers an opportunity to internalize these responsibilities and reconnect the threads: It challenges us to consider not just how to repair the damage, but how we can build lasting relationships with the places we depend on. 

Restoration asks us to move beyond seeing ourselves as separate from nature and paves the way to understand, reconnect and participate. It is an ongoing commitment to observing, learning and responding, and our role is becoming increasingly more important in the face of global biodiversity loss, climate change, and drier summers here on SḴŦAḴ | Mayne Island.

Want to learn more about wetland creation, restoration, and stewardship? Check out this presentation about the changing distribution of wetlands on SḴŦAḴ | Mayne Island and how we can maximize habitat for amphibians and other species that rely on them.

If you’re interested in learning more about the natural features of your lands, please contact us for a free landholder consultation. We can provide information about how the ecosystems on your lands fit within the broader context of the island, and provide recommendations and resources for natural area stewardship. Landholder consultation participants receive maps of ecosystem types, logging history, soil types, and a list of plants noted during the site visit.