Variety is more than the spice of life

Michèle Raymond
Monday January 28, 2008

Like people all over Canada, I’ve been following with fascination the saga of HRM’s urban chickens, following closely on the story of its cats and its rats.

We may be the butt of fowl humour and catty commments from all over the country, but it’s no joke; these initiatives are only symptoms of a larger phenomenon that threatens the physical and even emotional health of all of us.

Post World War II, North America had a lot to be proud of, and new ways to show that pride. The New World had proven its mettle on the battlefields of the Old, and could offer a new life, and liberty to those fleeing the ruins of war. One way to show that liberty was to demonstrate prosperity, freedom from daily chores, and a vast bounty of natural resources.

North American cities could afford to banish farming, waste disposal and power generation to the outskirts, where endless land was available. There was no need to deal with cows, chickens or turnips; they could be effectively trucked in from somewhere else. The Common, (or Green), set aside for grazing and food production in every planned European settlement, could be turned to other, more decorative uses.

This happened early in Halifax, despite the stern words of the Lords of Trade in Britain, when one early governor tried to grant parts of the Common to prosperous settlers. “How will the poor widow feed her family?” they asked, ordering the land returned to its intended use, as common pasture. In fact, by the mid-19th century, the Commons were converted to the Public Gardens, institutional uses, and to 999-year leases along today’s Spring Garden Road.
Freshwater Brook was buried (though it surfaces on the Common, and sometimes, unintentionally along Barrington Street).

Interestingly, the years after World War II also saw the lavish use of antibiotics, a wealth of cleaning products (many now banned), the rise of cosmetic pesticides that promised a green and homogeneous lawn, and, according to some studies, an increase in immune disorders among children never exposed to a wide variety of the allergens that exist in the world. Not all the conclusions are universally accepted, but there is a pattern.

Environmental scientists tell us that variety is important, and that living systems achieve a balance through biodiversity— when one species is on the wane, another is on the rise. This is just as true of bacteria as it is of coyotes, rabbits and sheep. Sometimes, artifically suppressing one species, whether it’s a germ or a chicken, throws off the balance. I’ve marvelled at the thinking that leads HRM, unlike other jurisdictions to recommend meat scraps in compost, an open invitation to rats, and then to lock up cats. Apparently others have been surprised too.

Nutritionists tell us that variety is important, when they recommend eating foods of many different colours (dye doesn’t count), to get the greatest number of nutrients. But humans are creatures of habit, and aren’t as likely to eat a variety of foods when a favourite cantelope or tomato can be trucked in or flown in year round. The turnip may not be as appetizing first time around, but it’s still part of a balanced diet— and it doesn’t need to come from California.

Recently, government policies have suppressed a lot of variety, in transportation, recreation, food choices, immigration, types of housing and even the look of our homes. Other parts of North America are beginning to look at the side-effects of sameness, though, as other cities actually encourage urban food production. People are starting to question whether it makes sense to ban clotheslines in favour of electric dryers, to widen roads instead of putting public transit on the existing streets, and to wonder whether it’s really necessary for all the houses on one street to have the same ‘look’.

The chickens are only the tip of the iceberg.

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