9 minute read
the moral implications of urban design in proximity to wildlife
Yana Kigel
A small pond, a distributary of the Carp River and located within the developing Ottawa suburb of Stittsville sits in what was once an undeveloped buffer zone, separating an established neighbourhood from agricultural land. Recently, the urban sprawl encircling this piece of land has encroached on the undergrowth with the freshly laid-out trail of Abbottsville, a paved addition that overshadows the many organic paths large and small, just as the unnamed pond is dwarfed by the well-known Carp River.
I live in this relatively new neighbourhood. With windows overlooking these pathways, I have had a front-row seat to the intrusive construction that has appeared over the last three years. Suburbanites often rationalise their relocation by denouncing the lack of greenery in the city centre; hence, moving from a busy metropolis to a quiet suburb, I also envisioned the promised closeness to nature. However, upon moving, I began to see that the green suburbs had failed to create a place of harmony with nature. Instead, the streets, victims of land manipulation, were deceptively moulded to appear ‘green’. Traditional suburban landscape works to sterilise natural landscapes rather than promote an ecosystem that connects humans and wildlife. The remaining patches of forest lands are isolated in the existing urban fabric. Wilderness is expelled from our daily routine, visited only through planned excursions.
what defines a path?
Environment and intent influence how we subconsciously pick which trail is worth travelling along. In small-scale urban parks, designers typically attempt to navigate the traffic by accentuating an abrupt change in materiality along the boundaries - pavement against earth, manicured turf against overgrown plants, the purpose being to make it accessible both visually and physically. As a result, most people stay on the pavement, avoiding extensions that appear uncharted or unstable. These more ambiguous, organic trails are hence less inviting. They have a smaller footprint, a less visible border, and subtle material transition. Only in a less controlled environment, such as a forest, could such pathways be expected to deviate from the established routes. We recognise that we may encounter the unknown - a wild animal, an unexpected puddle, or a dead end. Another alternative, increasingly challenging to locate, is a route that hugs an edge. An existing border, such as of backyards, agricultural fields, or rivers, define these types of boundaries. Unlike spread asphalt or prints left by previous visitors, it is far more challenging to determine if an edge may be intended for travel or if it is part of an off-limits, private property.
In our still semi-underdeveloped site, the Abbotsville trail, the only paved path constructed by the urban planners, is popular among the residents of the streets whose properties border it. The rest of the informal paths are on terrain of natural rocky surfaces, flooding gaps and artificial scrap bridges, all of which are difficult to use. The few paths made by animals are too narrow for human use and typically disappear into dense vegetation. They too are difficult to follow and are rarely explored. The only traces of human activity are artefacts left behind on these overlooked paths, such as a brought-in swing, a worn-out chair, or gardening equipment. With such secrecy and enigma, these routes are held sacred by their select users. Their unpredictability, emptiness and seasonal changes make them feel as though they are constantly ‘discovered’.
simplify: strip the context
Unsurprisingly, the previous ways of analysis were carried out from a human perspective. The fundamental problem of dissecting a path through photographs of edge states was its overflowing context. Though natural tracks were walked on less frequently than paved ones, traffic's visual contours made them easy to detect. Crucially, breaking free from an analytic human perspective, new paths may be found, or in this case, missed. We built models to reduce and abstract the volume of visual data found on any path. With decreased information, pathways can only be speculated. Paths that are visually obvious become illegible. It was now easy to imagine how an animal, unaware of human courses, might see the area. For aquatic species, it was the waterways that were the primary means of transportation. Land animals used a variety of terrain for travelling, seeing only the water and structures as constraints. Birds used landmarks such as the tops of trees and higher edges of buildings for their orientation. It is fascinating, especially in contrast to humans, how little importance fauna places on sticking to the beaten path.
accentuate: select the context
This fascination led me to explore a different technique that did the opposite of selective omission, which removed textural context and what geometry defines a path. I made a more tactile record, focusing on the surfaces of the trails, and found that one may overcome the need for visual cues and instead follow the path from touch alone – scenery or destination hardly matters compared to the sensation of walking and the feeling of the ground beneath. Organic routes awaken the sense of touch; we become aware of where we step, how we step, and what we step over. We begin to feel more present. The constant variations allow us to appreciate the ground truthfully. A lack of textural variation makes the walking experience less personal and intimate:
Hard, then softer. Wet.
A crawling bug? Squished again.
Poking root! Paw prints.
The pavement.
It is just hard, then still hard, and hard once again.
It's a shame that natural paths aren't frequently considered throughout the planning phase of parks. To find these, we must go out of our way and visit still-untouched sites or organise a trip to the woods, where the requirement to plan an event takes away any genuine spontaneity. Synthetic walkways are designed to be trusted and so are unnoticed in the process of walking. Our sense of touch is diminished, the environment is sterile, we start to dissociate from nature as the experience becomes artificial. The bleakness of so many modern urban parks suppresses so many of the sensations that make us human. This pushes a human disconnect from wildlife, expelling them from their natural habitats and keeping them from thriving in newly designed ones.
determine the focus
Where does this shift in focus from over-designed human ways to ones of wildlife and their organic route-making practices take us? On my study site, I want to preserve a fragment of animal migration corridors before the expansion of human settlement fully eradicates it. My site visits eventually became routine without thought or preparation, promoting detours and a desire to explore. I no longer made it a mission to travel from point A to B, but rather, I began following the sounds of birds, the scents of plants and the movements of weasels.
Animal migration routes and their overlaps were revealed. Rodents like crevices and dense shrubbery, while coyotes follow cleared-out ways. Turkeys prefer the transition zone between open grasslands and densely forested areas, and songbirds mostly fly between treetops. Herons, beavers, weasels and ducks share the overgrown streams. Geese congregate in open areas near bodies of water and pastures. This more profound comprehension of animal preferences was possible only once I eliminated my preconceptions about what constituted a route. Without this, I would have stayed oblivious to their habits. So how can we, architects, urban planners and designers, continue to claim that we care to build with nature in mind when we actively work on segregating it through construction, sterilisation, and demolition?
the Abbottsville Trail and its sacred extensions
Site analysis is a crucial first step in architectural and urban planning before any design process begins. A study may be carried out in various ways, typically with a particular objective in mind; it is rare for the aim to be uncertain or absent. This research began with neither a framework nor an end in sight but merely with a personal interest in trail usage and prior familiarity with the region's volatile wildlife population.
It proceeded with a lack of specificity, exploring new approaches to understanding and interpreting a site. It established relationships between path-making, humans, fauna, flora and the ground itself. Although the Abbottsville Trail analysis did not lead to a design proposal, the knowledge acquired from this work was reapplied to my thesis, A Golden Green Belt: Integrating Nature in Ottawa's Next Suburbs
Experimental and intensive site analysis techniques enabled the thesis to strive for a more dynamic and environmentally friendly neighbourhood layout, encouraging future projects to invest more thoroughly in the design research stage.
Yana Kigel has completed her undergraduate and graduate degrees in the architecture program at Carleton University and is presently working at Carleton Immersive Media Studio. The topic of this text expanded into her thesis.
https://curve.carleton.ca/f0f21af2-a73f-4bb4-bec9-ee5260822733
