As part of my research on Historical GIS, I have been thinking about aerial photographs and satellite imagery of Nova Scotia. On the weekend, I went to talk to John Wightman in Bridgetown.
John has had several careers in his work life. He was Vice-Principal at NSLSI when they hired me to teach Scientific Computer Programming in 1980. John has had a long standing interest in the landscape and it’s geological structure. He reminded me that the Nova Scotia Department of Lands and Forests had taken aerial photographs of the provincial forest cover, every ten years. Likely since the 1950’s. He was also familiar with the work of the Canada Centre for Remote Sensing (CCRS) and their support of the LANDSAT series of satellites.
Given this background, it seems highly likely that we could document changes in the forest and agricultural landscape over the last ninety years. This would be a significant challenge for the total province, but we could sponsor a pilot project for a sub-region (eg. the Annapolis Valley).
Researching the availability of these images would take some time. However, the availability of imagery in combination with historical maps would give us the background story on landscape change.
My second conversation was online. In response to my recent blogs on maps and mapping, Sandra Barry sent me a poem by Elizabeth Bishop, ‘The Map’.
Sandra is a remarkable resource on the life and work of Bishop. Here is the poem, published in 1946 from the book, North and South.
THE MAP by Elizabeth Bishop Land lies in water; it is shadowed green. Shadows, or are they shallows, at its edges showing the line of long sea-weeded ledges where weeds hang to the simple blue from green. Or does the land lean down to lift the sea from under, drawing it unperturbed around itself? Along the fine tan sandy shelf is the land tugging at the sea from under? The shadow of Newfoundland lies flat and still. Labrador's yellow, where the moony Eskimo has oiled it. We can stroke these lovely bays, under a glass as if they were expected to blossom, or as if to provide a clean cage for invisible fish. The names of the seashore towns run out to sea, the names of cities cross the neighboring mountains --the printer here experiencing the same excitement as when emotion too far exceeds its cause. These peninsulas take the water between thumb and finger like women feeling for the smoothness of yard-goods. Mapped waters are more quiet than the land is, lending the land their waves' own conformation: and Norway's hare runs south in agitation, profiles investigate the sea, where land is. Are they assigned, or can the countries pick their colors? --What suits the character of the native waters best. Topography displays no favorites; North's as near as West. More delicate than the historians' are the map-makers' colors. (from North & South, 1946)
The appeal for me is the link between place, the cartographer’s craft and the poet’s sensibilities.
Two separate conversations, taking place, between Bridgetown and Middleton.
My hope is that COGS faculty and students believe it is worthwhile to develop an Historical GIS that incorporates both the early cartography and the subsequent image analysis.
Postscript
Tuesday evening, David Colville described a current student project that looks at the sand barrens ecosystem, using historical photography, in the Annapolis Valley. It is a collaboration with CARP. This fits well with my thinking. It covers the period 1930-2020.
Postscript
This weekend, we picked red currants, gooseberries and high bush blueberries. Lots of jams, jellies and desserts.
Acknowledgements
To John Wightman and Sandra Barry, both of whom, added to my initial story. David Colville provide current information on satellite imagery, and the student project. Edward Wedler added both his knowledge of remote sensing and technical skills.
References
Elizabeth Bishop,1946, North and South, (It includes the poem ‘The Map’).
Ernest Blair Experiment 