On Vancouver Island, the Cumberland Community Forest Society shows what is possible when a community takes conservation into its own hands.
Formed 25 years ago in response to logging near the village of Cumberland in the Comox Valley, the group has secured 545 acres of forest in five separate purchases along the south side of the village. While its primary mission remains buying privately owned timberlands to look after them, it achieves this by bringing together hundreds of people around a shared goal: caring for places they love.
The Cumberland Forest stands in the Nanaimo Lowlands, a strip of land sheltered by surrounding mountains. This rain shadow microclimate is warmer and drier than the rest of the island, and home to a rich, distinctive biodiversity of plants and animals. Wetlands, creeks, rocky ridges, and forests are part of this ecosystem, providing important habitat for many species. Birds, cougars, bears, beavers, black-tailed deer, amphibians, coho salmon, sculpin, and countless invertebrates have all been spotted here.
Protecting this second-growth is critical
Over a century of logging has wiped out most of the ancient trees, with only a few still standing. Protecting this second-growth is critical to give the forest the necessary time to mature and rebuild complex habitats, including a layered forest floor that many species rely on. More than 50 species considered at risk of extinction or extirpation in the Comox Valley now have the chance to survive here.
By remembering and sharing the story of the region’s deep-time geology, ecology, and pre-colonial history, the CCFS brings people together around a shared sense of responsibility, pushing back against the colonial legacy that continues to shape landscapes along the island’s east coast.
As radical as this sounds, the CCFS doesn’t label itself as an activist organization in the traditional sense, but as a transactional one. As executive director Meaghan Cursons puts it, “Many of our founders were activists … people with a vision of an incredible future of protected forest lands. But there was an awareness of the context of privately managed forest lands, and that nobody was going to do this for us, that it was not going to happen through legislation or a regulatory path.”
“Organizing around watersheds would give people a more relational and concrete sense of place.”
Cursons says their path has been “to find the way to gain community control over stolen unceded landscapes, to pull them back into community, and then do the hard work of figuring out how to manage land.”
What was initially pragmatic became a broad and diverse movement, involving conservationists, families, mountain bikers, runners, herbalists, hikers, artists, school groups, adventure racers, photographers, and more – all of whom now see the Cumberland Forest as an integral part of the village’s culture and community life.
The secret of this success? Daring to do things differently. Creating a sense of belonging for every demographic through science, art, culture, sport, history, and heritage, building deep connection and trust. No matter their age, background, skill level, or physical ability, everyone finds a way to show up for the forest through guided walks, lantern walks, children’s theatre, trivia nights, science nights, races, and the beloved Fungus Festival. These events not only engage the broader community in acts of repair through helping to raise funds to secure and protect more land, but also bring people together in a celebratory and joyful way.
With over 100 volunteers, the CCFS is never short of helping hands, whether for fundraising or hands-on citizen-led conservation projects like bat counts, toad patrols, stream-keeping, and biodiversity surveys.
Community engagement
This level of community engagement takes years to build and the courage to dream big. Cursons describes herself as “an interdisciplinary conservationist” and speaks to the importance of moving beyond the generational scarcity nonprofit mindset that celebrates minimal spending, and resourcing the organization properly. She insists on the importance of hiring paid staff for crucial roles like volunteer coordination and donor management, which are essential for building long-term capacity and efficiency, generating returns beyond the initial cost.
“But building a conservation organization is still more than recruiting donors or volunteers for a series of ‘actions.’ It’s about building community” Cursons explains. “That means exploring this work through the lens of joy and play. Dressing up for parades, creating plays in the forest, and weaving art out of invasive plants, all of this builds the community needed to make the rest of our work, from counting bats to caring for the creek, possible” she says.
Photo: Province of British Columbia
“When you build a sense of relationship, balance, harmony, then people feel part of something. They see themselves reflected in the work.”
Moving into this more reciprocal mindset of community-building, the CCFS has earned the trust not only of local government but also funders that see the potential of what is being built here. As the Cumberland community has grown around its forest, Cursons sees a similar opportunity for other groups to grow their own sense of movement and identity around watersheds. “Within every watershed there are artists, gardeners, athletes,” she notes.
Organizing around watersheds would give people a more relational and concrete sense of place
What has worked for the CCFS can be replicated elsewhere. If we begin to think of community as a “watershed power block,” an engaged community coming together around a shared vision, we can influence local policy through a new kind of governance structured around ecological realities rather than political borders, where decisions are shaped accordingly.
She suggests that organizing around watersheds would give people a more relational and concrete sense of place, bringing awareness of where our drinking water comes from, what other life forms rely on it, and how land development and pollution affect its quality. Rooted in ancient land-based ways of being and knowing, yet deeply relevant today, this approach could encourage a deeper shared sense of responsibility, allowing governance to grow alongside the ecosystems that sustain it.
