by Miguel Symonds Orr
The Spring 2025 Society for Ecological Restoration (SER) Field Trip started, as many other field trips do, at the Burke Museum parking lot in the early morning. Soon, we assembled our crew (shaved down by illnesses and schedule changes) and took off toward the South Salish Sea region, where we would visit two sites – Woodard Bay Natural Resources Conservation Area (NRCA) and Oak Patch Natural Area Preserve (NAP).
We had winding conversations about our restoration experience and environmental policy as we traveled down increasingly rural roads. Soon, we arrived at Woodard Bay NRCA, our first stop, and met our tour guide, Washington State Department of Natural Resources (DNR) Washington Natural Areas Program (NAP) Program Ecologist David Wilderman (nice case of nominative determinism, huh?).
Woodard Bay Natural Resources Conservation Area: History Told Through Place
After some introductions and background from David Wilderman, we took off down the trail through a wood with a vibrant native understory. The forest subsided, revealing a view of the inlet beyond us. Around us was a covered pavilion, some historical interpretive features such as an old Boom Foreman’s office (more about this later) and recreations of canoes and other elements of the livelihoods of Squaxin Island peoples and interpretive signs. These elements made up Woodard Point Park, designed by Barker Landscape Architects, now part of Environmental Works[1]. A short loop around a bioswale with blooming camas made up a little interpretive trail through the park. This park was of particular interest to me as a landscape architecture student and ecological design enthusiast.
As David Wilderman led us through the park and beyond, to other features in the NRCA, he told us the history of Woodard Bay NRCA and restoration actions the Washington State DNR has taken in the past few decades. What follows is a (relatively) brief history of Woodard Bay NRCA, drawing primarily on Boomtime: A History of the Woodard Bay Natural Resource Conservation Area by Andrew Poultridge and A People’s History of the Seven Inlets (Steh-Chass) by Charlene Krise. I am no expert in the history of the region surrounding the southern edge of the Salish Sea – I only provide this history to set the background for my exploration of the interplay between human history and ecology over time, and how that history is expressed, revealed, and concealed through landscape design and restoration. For more information, I highly recommend reading Boomtime and A People’s History of the Seven Inlets (noting that Boomtime is likely to contain misrepresentations of the Squaxin Island Tribe[2],[3]).
The Steh-Chass people’s traditional livelihoods were supported by the stewardship, harvest, and trade of the beings of the Steh-Chass ecosystem, such as “salmon, shellfish, elk, deer, bear, and numerous other species of first foods” as well as “plants, trees, and many other resources from each watershed”[9]. The stewardship of these lands by the Steh-Chass people continues to this day[10]. This stewardship is supported by a deep Indigenous scientific knowledge of “ocean currents and tides, weather patterns and changes, natural medicines, marine biology, and even engineering”[11]. This knowledge is guided and connected to a strong land ethic, which views non-human beings “as if they were another nation of people”[12] and recognizes the land’s “inalienable rights endowed by the Creator”[13]. The Steh-Chass people’s cultural knowledge is “often accompanied by ceremonies of observance or expressions of gratitude” and ethics of reciprocity are taught through “ancient stories and artwork”[14]. The Steh-Chass people’s cultural knowledge and ethics helped them to sustain a vibrant and healthy ecology which “included cathedrals of immense forest and numerous creatures such as bears ready to feast on energy-rich salmon”[15]. Steh-Chass people lived along Noo-Seh-Chatl and fished, hunted, and gathered throughout Noo-Seh-Chatl and the surrounding areas[16].
This healthy interrelationship between natural ecology and the Steh-Chass people’s society was put into jeopardy by the arrival of settlers. Before the first settlers of the area surrounding Noo-Seh-Chatl arrived, numerous illnesses brought by Europeans spread to the Squaxin people, decimating the population and leaving villages empty[17]. In 1853, millwright Harvey Rice Woodard arrived in the Steh-Chass ecosystem with his wife Salome and his sons and settled near the bay which is now named after his family[18]. Woodard was able to use the Donation Land Claim Act of 1850 – an act designed to promote homestead settlement[19] – to claim 320 acres of land within the Steh-Chass ecosystem[20]. Historian Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz explains the purpose of the Donation Land Claim Act of 1850 and similar Homestead Acts in An Indigenous People’s History of the United States:
This dispersal of landless settler populations from east of the Mississippi served as an “escape valve,” lessening the likelihood of class conflict as the industrial revolution accelerated the use of cheap immigrant labor.
Little of the land appropriated under the Homestead Acts was distributed to actual single-family homesteaders. It was passed instead to large operators or land speculators.[21]
Homesteading was the tool with which the system of colonization wrested land from “the Indigenous collective estates and privatized [it] for the market”[22]. This privatization enabled drastic and rapid exploitation of the natural resources stewarded by Indigenous people. This pattern of homesteaded land passed to large corporations can be seen in the history of the lands which are now contained within the Woodard Bay NRCA.
Ironically, Woodard and his family left the area surrounding what is now known as Woodard Bay before he secured the title to the 320 acres, since they fled to Olympia during the Puget Sound War of 1855-56[23]. This war was a response to the United States Government’s breaking of the Medicine Creek Treaty of 1854[24], the government-to-government agreement between the United States and the Medicine Creek Nation, composed of “nine tribes and bands of Indian sovereign governments” including the Squaxin Island Tribe[25]. The process of agreeing to the treaty was made in sign language and Chinook Jargon, a language “with just a few hundred words”, which enabled the representatives of the US government to “[take] advantage of the situation”[26]. The Squaxin Island Tribe recounts promises made to the Steh-Chass people and other signatories which US government representatives did not write down in the treaty[27].
Although Woodard never moved back to the lands he had claimed, he and his descendants profited financially from the sale of these lands to residents and for timber harvesting[28]. Another resource which could be exploited for profit existed at Noo-Seh-Chatl – oysters. Early settlers found a bed of oysters “four or five acres in extent”[29]. I find it likely that this bed of oysters existed in part due to the stewardship of the Steh-Chass people, who “carefully cultivated [oysters] by… arranging and terracing an area with fallen trees or rocks that were strategically placed to optimize marine water for the growth of the delicate oyster”[30].
In 1902, the Capital City Oyster Company bought land where Woodard Bay NRCA now lies, and hired Robert Whitham to oversee the operation[31]. This role led to the name of Whitham Road[32], the trail Wilderman led myself and the other SER members down to Woodard Point Park. In November 1919, Whitham sued Capital City Oyster Company for wage theft[33]. Whitham won and Capital City Oyster Company soon went out of business – Whitham used money from his settlement to purchase the land that had been the oyster company’s[34]. This land was bought from Whitham in 1924 by Weyerhaeuser Timber Company[35], which had been acquiring forested lands full of timber and building mills to process timber for years prior[36].
The scale of Weyerhaeuser’s logging and milling operations in the 20th century was gargantuan – Poultridge writes that Weyerhaeuser’s Mill B had a “voracious appetite for timber” and that Weyerhaeuser’s mills in Everett were “insatiable”[40]. South Bay Log Dump facilitated the transfer of timber from Weyerhaeuser’s lands south of Noo-Seh-Chatl to their Everett mills. Three or four train cars arrived most days at South Bay Log Dump, each train containing 40-60 cars – in total carrying close to 1 million board feet of timber[41]. This sum of timber is equivalent to the wood extracted from over 750 Douglas-fir trees with a diameter at breast height (DBH) of 38” and a height of 163’[42]. This timber was then arranged into clusters that were towed by tugboats to Everett[43].
This rapid exploitation of old-growth timber could not be sustained ad infinitum. Poultridge writes that by the 1960s, “little old growth timber remained in the Vail-McDonald area”[45]. In the 1970s, Weyerhaeuser closed their Mills B and C – since they were “geared to the large logs we just don’t see anymore”[46]. The voracious consumption of the settler capitalist engine burned itself out.
In 1987, the Natural Resources Conservation Act (SSB 5911) was signed by Governor Gardner and the “uplands, tidelands, and all improvements” at the South Bay Log Dump site were purchased from Weyerhaeuser by the DNR in 1988 for $2.7 million[47]. Weyerhaeuser’s industrial activities left behind a significant amount of contamination – “metal debris [that] consisted largely of choker cables, metal banding, railroad track and other used equipment”[48] as well as over 2,000 tons of creosote[49].
Interestingly enough, the vestments of Weyerhaeuser’s industrial activities were repurposed by wildlife as habitat after the abandonment of the facility. Poultridge writes:
The standing booms and walkways provide haul out space for the seals. The pilings and dolphins provide perches for cormorants and gulls. Under the water, they furnish excellent habitat for barnacles, mussels, and anemones. The pier provides a home to a colony of bats as well as a place for birds to drop shellfish, break open the shells and eat.[50]
Our guide David Wilderman detailed a variety of the restoration activities which the DNR has undertaken since they assumed management of the Woodard Bay NRCA. In 2011, DNR removed 600 anchor piles, but left ~90 piles for haulout sites for seals (places on land near the shore where seals surface to rest[51]). DNR supplemented these piles with bird boxes for purple martins[52]. The DNR removed 7,500 square feet of Chapman Pier, retaining a significant stretch of the pier for bat habitat[53]. This pier remains perhaps “the largest colony of bats in Western Washington”[54]. In 2013, DNR removed 40,000 cubic yards of fill from Woodard Bay to restore the natural hydrology of Noo-Seh-Chatl[55]. The DNR works with other partners in caring for Woodard Bay NRCA, including the Squaxin Island Tribe[56]. In general, these actions aim to undo the ecological arms of the industrial period of the site while retaining some elements of that period that provide valuable ecological habitat.
The history of Woodard Bay can be split into four periods – Steh-Chass stewardship since time immemorial, early settlement, the industrial period, and post-industrial restoration. Each of these periods speak to different social-ecological relationships to land guided by different land ethics. Steh-Chass stewardship can be understood as guided by an understanding of land as a relative, while the settler extraction of resources of the land during the early settlement and industrial period were guided by a conception of land as a resource.
A through-line can be drawn from the claiming of the lands around Noo-seh-chatl by the Woodard family to the drastic exploitation of timber facilitated by the South Bay Log Dump – homesteading was the tool through which the land transferred from communal Steh-Chass stewardship into the capitalist marketplace. This land was then used for exploitation of the natural resources the Steh-Chass and other Indigenous peoples had stewarded since time immemorial – the clam beds and old-growth forests, the natural “cathedrals” of the Steh-Chass ecosystem[57].
The post-industrial restoration period lies at the transition away from land as a resource, as more within the US’s industrial system see the devastation which viewing the land as a resource has brought. This changing understanding fueled environmental activism that led to increasing regulations on timber companies such as Weyerhaeuser[58]. Mindsets in this post-industrial period do not always necessarily see land as a relative, but sometimes as a resource which must be managed more carefully for long-term exploitation. This mindset can be seen in Weyerhaeuser’s recent branding as a sustainable forestry leader, which writes that “we use trees to make products people need while taking care of forests for future generations”[59]. Weyerhaeuser plans to increase lumber production and sells carbon offsets for the forests they log[60].
The understanding of Woodard Bay NRCA in a post-industrial restoration period must be balanced with an understanding of the broader social and economic context. While timber exploitation burned itself out and was constrained by legal protections on endangered species in the South Salish Sea region, ecological devastation continues throughout the USA and beyond which is tightly linked to our economy. For example, conservationists and Native American advocacy groups are resisting a planned lithium mine in Nevada which would harm an endangered desert wildflower and Indigenous cultural resources[61]. Brutal exploitation of people and land continues in the Congo to mine minerals needed for electric cars, renewable energy, and other high-tech implements – the same minerals the planned Nevada lithium mine aims to extract[62]. While Woodard Bay NRCA presents an opportunity to tell a story about the transition beyond industrial exploitation to restoration, this story should not be used to obfuscate the colonial exploitation of people and land that continues today.
The DNR interprets the history of Woodard Bay NRCA which is written on the land through landscape elements at Woodard Point Park (designed by Barker Landscape Architects) and interpretive signage. The story itself speaks through the land, and observation reveals it – landscape design and signage is a tool to curate and communicate that story. The repurposing of the tools of timber exploitation from the former South Bay Log Dump for habitat by wildlife provides inspiration for the ways we can retrofit the environments of our past to provide for ourselves and future generations. When the removal of past infrastructure is more ecologically beneficial than maintaining it, signage can tell the story of what was removed and the process of healing the land undergoes.
Train tracks Barker Landscape Architects retained at Woodard Point Park reveal the path of the trains which used to carry logs to the log dump, and paver patterns evoke the devices which train cars used to turn about as well as the basket weave patterns of the Steh-Chass people[63].
One can also assume that the Squaxin Island Tribe and Environmental Works worked together on the interpretive signage that tells the story of the Squaxin Island Tribe’s relationship to the Woodard Bay NRCA. The sign which speaks to this relationship the most – “The Changing Nature of Woodard Bay” – largely speaks of the Steh-Chass people’s relationship with Noo-Seh-Chatl in the past tense, although the sign does highlight that “under the treaties, the tribes reserved certain rights, such as the right to hunt, gather and fish”[66]. For a story of the seven inlets that highlights the continuing Steh-Chass connection to the land, I highly recommend A People’s History of the Seven Inlets. One can only speculate as to why Krise’s People’s History tells a story of the Steh-Chass that highlights present-day Indigenous land relations more than the signage at Woodard Bay NRCA. Krise writes: “for the unabridged, authoritative history of the Squaxin Island Tribe, please visit the Squaxin Island Museum, Library, and Research Center”[67].
Other elements speak to the continuing impact of settlement on Woodard Bay – most obviously, the name of Woodard Bay and Whitham Road, which valorize the Woodard Family and Robert Whitham, the two most prominent land owners of the site that became Weyerhauser’s South Bay Log Dump (not to mention Weyer Point, which I assume is named after Weyerhaeuser).
Woodard Point Park provides a fascinating case study of human relationships to land over time and an inspiring example of the ability of landscape design to tell stories about changing societal relationships to the land and inspire a restoration-focused future. These stories must be told through government-to-government collaboration as has happened at Woodard Point Park through the coordination between the Squaxin Island Tribe and the DNR.
Oak Patch: Native Plants in Wild Interplay
After our tour of Woodard Bay NRCA, we drove on to Oak Patch Natural Areas Preserve (NAP), a 17-acre site[68] on the traditional lands of the Suquamish, Twana, and S’Klallam peoples[69] – much smaller than the 922-acre Woodard Bay NRCA[70]. As we got out of our car at the parking lot, we were passed by a series of ATV drivers, one proudly flying the Gadsden flag and other markers of American conservatism. We walked toward the NAP to escape the roaring noise of the ATVs. The side of the Oak Patch site opposite the parking lot was a frequent route for off-road vehicles (ORVs) like dirt bikes and ATVs – wooden fencing had been installed to stop people from driving ORVs into the Oak Patch (a strategy that has been successful so far). Noise from vehicles imposes a variety of deleterious effects on wildlife – it makes predation more difficult, masks bird-calls, and interferes with pollination and seed dispersal[71].
Many of SER UW’s restoration sites face similar challenges – most notably, the Burke Gilman Site abuts a loud road near a hospital with near-constant traffic and frequent sirens, and we have built woven wattle fences to reduce foot traffic through the site. These sorts of challenges affect a variety of restoration projects across the urban-to-rural gradient, and, although it is best to address these challenges directly when possible, restoration is a worthwhile endeavor even in challenging contexts. In the case of Oak Patch, butterfly and toad populations abound despite the frequent noise[72].
Oak Patch differs from Woodard Bay in many ways – it’s not designed for public access and has no formal educational programs[73]. As the name suggests, it’s a small preserve of Oregon White Oak (Quercus garryana), different from the expansive shore and evergreen forest habitat of Woodard Bay. As we walked in, I saw meadow plants I knew well, like chocolate lilies (Fritillaria affinis) and early blue violet (Viola adunca).
Although oak patch is home to a couple of endangered species, I was most interested to see native plants I knew well from gardening contexts growing together in Oak Patch. We saw expanses of kinnikinnick (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi) growing among Oregon Grape (Mahonia sp.s) and yarrow (Achillea millefolium). These plants crawled over the burned stumps of trees in the oak patch, which had been burned in previous prescribed burns by the DNR[74].
These three species are three of the most-planted native plants in Washington State, although in gardens they are often seen growing apart in clumps – massive jumbles of Oregon grape or large expanses of kinnikinnick stretching over islands in a Costco parking lot.
Wilderman led us through the Oak Patch, past several beaver-chewed trees, and to a lake whose edge was dammed by beavers, perhaps with the same small trees whose stumps we’d passed. The clouds that had hung above us cleared up, revealing a beautiful view of Oak Patch Lake – the perfect place for an SER photo op.
Conclusion: Learning from Rural Lands
The opportunity to view plants growing together in a much less intensively-managed environment than most of those that surround us at the UW campus provides invaluable inspiration for my own landscape designs and the restoration activities of all of us at SER. Engaging with large-scale restoration projects within the state and learning from someone as established in the restoration field as David Wilderman is incredibly valuable for our professional development and the evolution of our work at the UW campus. Although rural lands like those we visited may have very different contexts – and, often, much less-degraded lands with less impacts from cars and humans than dense, hardscape-covered urban environments – they exist within the same continuum of human stewardship, human degradation, and ecological evolution. By viewing these landscapes outside of our home, we get an opportunity to consider how we will enact a restoration present on the sites we steward on campus and tell the land’s stories through landscape.
Have any questions, corrections, comments, or critiques? Email Miguel at miguelso [at] woollypoddesign [dot] com.
Footnotes
[1] Environmental Works – Woodard Bay Natural Resources Conservation Area
[3] For instance, on page 5 Poultridge writes that the Nisqually lived along the shores where Woodard Bay NRCA now stands – those lands are actually the ancestral territory of the Steh-Chass people or Squaxin Island Tribe (Krise pg. 3).
[4] David Wilderman, personal correspondence.
[5] Washington State DNR – “Welcome to Woodard Bay”
[7] Krise – History Talks! A People’s History of the Seven Inlets of the Southern Salish Sea
[8] OlyAHA – Firehouse Bay 3, Window #11
[11] Squaxin Island Museum – “About”
[21] Dunbar-Ortiz – An Indigenous People’s History of the United States, pg. 141
[22] Dunbar-Ortiz – An Indigenous People’s History of the United States, pg. 141
[26] Suquamish Tribe – History & Culture
[29] South Bay Historical Assn., cited in Poultridge pg. 10
[42] Hummel 2009 pg. 244, Whittling Cave – Board Feet Calculator
[46] “End of the line for Mill B”, cited in Poultridge pg. 28
[49] Washington State DNR – “Transforming an Industrial Part to a Conservation Future”
[51] Washington State DNR – “A Haven for Harbor Seals”, Woodard Bay NRCA Restoration Timeline
[52] Woodard Bay NRCA Restoration Timeline
[53] Woodard Bay NRCA Restoration Timeline
[54] Ryan – “Puget Sound’s biggest bat colony could be big loser of dam-removal project”
[55] Woodard Bay NRCA Restoration Timeline
[56] David Wilderman, personal correspondence
[58] Warren – Weyerhaeuser Company
[59] Weyerhaeuser, quoted in Taft – How an American Logging Giant Bills Itself as a Climate Hero
[60] Taft – How an American Logging Giant Bills Itself as a Climate Hero
[61] Sonner – Nevada lithium mine will crush rare plant habitat US said is critical to its survival, lawsuit says
[62] Adebayo – Congo communities forcibly uprooted to make way for mines critical to EVs, Amnesty report says
[63] This is David Wilderman and I’s interpretation of these paved elements
[64] Environmental Works – Woodard Bay Natural Conservation Area
[65] Environmental Works – Woodard Bay Natural Conservation Area
[66] Washington State DNR – “The Changing Nature of Woodard Bay”
[68] Washington State DNR – Oak Patch Natural Area Preserve
[69] Native Land, Treaty of Point No Point, American Friends Service Committee – Washington State Treaty Cessions and Reservations Map
[70] Washington State DNR – Woodard Bay NRCA
[71] Ben Goldfarb – Crossings pg.141
[72] Washington State DNR – Oak Patch Natural Area Preserve. Perhaps this frequent noise could be used to conduct studies on the impact of noise on wildlife populations?
[73] Washington State DNR – Oak Patch Natural Area Preserve
[74] David Wilderman, personal correspondence