The wild blueberry barrens of Atlantic Canada tell a story etched in the very soil – a narrative of nature’s bounty, human ingenuity, and the evolving dance between tradition and technology. Central to this tale is the fascinating history of pruning, particularly the fiery spectacle of burning fields, and its gradual, yet almost complete, replacement by the more mechanical, efficient act of mowing. For centuries, fire was not an act of destruction but of renewal, a vital agricultural practice that shaped the landscape and sustained communities. The article continues below but if you prefer you can listen to the podcast instead.

The Ancient Flame: Indigenous Roots and Early Settlers

The practice of burning land to manage vegetation long predates European settlement in Atlantic Canada. Indigenous peoples, including the Mi’kmaq, Wolastoqiyik (Maliseet), and Passamaquoddy, understood the ecological benefits of controlled burns. They observed how fire cleared underbrush, stimulated new growth, and enhanced the abundance of wild foods, including berries. While specific records of blueberry field burning by Indigenous communities are scarce due to the oral nature of their traditions, the general understanding of fire’s role in land management suggests its application to enhance berry yields. Their deep ecological knowledge informed their practices, recognizing fire as a tool for stewardship rather than mere clearance.

When European settlers arrived in the 17th and 18th centuries, they quickly adopted and adapted many Indigenous land management techniques. Faced with vast tracts of wild blueberry growth, they too discovered the transformative power of fire and began to use fire as well.

One might wonder how repeatedly setting fire to fields didn’t ultimately destroy the very plants they sought to cultivate. The secret lies in the unique biology of the wild blueberry plant. Unlike many plants that are entirely consumed by fire, wild blueberries possess an extensive and robust underground rhizome system. This network of horizontal stems acts as a resilient survival mechanism, storing energy and housing dormant buds beneath the soil surface. When the above-ground stems were burned, the crucial rhizomes, insulated by the soil, remained largely unharmed as long as the fire did not get too intense. The heat, far from being destructive to these underground structures, actually served as a powerful signal, triggering the dormant buds on the rhizomes to sprout vigorously, sending up new, highly productive shoots in the subsequent growing season. This natural resilience is what allowed fire to be a regenerative, rather than a destructive force.

 Older stems, after bearing fruit, become less productive. The settlers, much like their Indigenous predecessors, learned that burning off the old growth in late fall or early spring was the most effective way to “prune” the plants, encouraging a flush of new, highly fruitful shoots in a two-year cycle.

Early burning methods were rudimentary: “free-burning” simply involved setting fire to the existing vegetation and letting it run. This was often uncontrolled, reliant on natural fuel (dead leaves, weeds, older blueberry stems), and highly dependent on weather conditions. While effective in stimulating regeneration, free-burning could be inconsistent, leading to uneven pruning and sometimes damaging the crucial organic layer of the soil if the fire became too intense. Nevertheless, for generations, it was the primary, often only, method available to farmers seeking to maximize their wild blueberry harvests.

The Era of Controlled Fire: Refinement and Reliance

As the wild blueberry industry began to formalize in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, particularly in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island, efforts were made to make burning more controlled and efficient. The demand for blueberries, both fresh and processed, grew, necessitating more predictable yields.

One significant advancement was straw burning. Farmers would spread a layer of straw (oat, wheat, or barley straw) over the dormant blueberry fields before igniting it. The straw acted as a more uniform fuel source, ensuring a more even burn and therefore more consistent pruning across the field. Straw burning provided a relatively clean burn that effectively removed old stems and helped control some pests and diseases by incinerating overwintering larvae and spores. The ash also provided a temporary nutrient boost to the soil, contributing to the vigor of the new shoots.

The mid-20th century saw the introduction of more sophisticated fuel oil burners. Developed in the 1940s, these specialized machines used pressurized fuel oil to generate a controlled flame that could be systematically applied across the field. Oil burning offered several advantages: it provided a very consistent and even burn, could be precisely controlled to avoid excessive heat damage to the soil, and was less dependent on external fuel sources like straw, which could be costly to acquire and transport.

 Oil burning became the gold standard for large-scale commercial operations, offering a level of precision and efficiency that free-burning or even straw-burning couldn’t match. For decades, reigned supreme. It was seen as the most effective way to prune wild blueberries, stimulating robust growth, managing weeds, and providing a degree of pest sanitation. Generations of farmers in communities across Atlantic Canada learned the nuances of burning: the optimal time of year the ideal wind conditions, and the careful monitoring needed to prevent runaway fires. T

The Dawn of Mechanical Pruning: A Shift in Paradigm

Despite its efficacy, burning came with inherent drawbacks that would eventually pave the way for a new method. The rising costs of straw and fuel oil, the labor intensity of applying them, the challenges of managing smoke (especially as rural communities became more populated), and the ever-present risk of uncontrolled fires began to chip away at burning’s dominance. 

Environmental concerns also began to surface, particularly regarding air quality and the potential impact of repeated intense burns on soil organic matter and microbial life.

The alternative was mechanical pruning, or mowing. While rudimentary mowing had been experimented with for decades, it wasn’t until the latter half of the 20th century that technology advanced to make it a viable, and eventually superior, option. Early mowing attempts often struggled with the dense, woody nature of older blueberry stems, leading to uneven cuts and damage to equipment.

However, as agricultural machinery improved, specialized flail mowers and rotary cutters designed to handle tough brush became more accessible and robust. These machines could quickly and efficiently cut down the old growth, leaving a uniform field of pruned stems. The cut material, unlike the ash from burning, remained on the field, gradually decomposing and returning organic matter and nutrients to the soil – an ecological advantage.

The Modern Landscape: Mowing’s Dominance and Fire’s Lingering Legacy

Today, mechanical mowing is overwhelmingly the dominant method of pruning wild blueberry fields across Atlantic Canada. The sight of burning fields, once an annual ritual, is now a rarity. Modern operations employ large, powerful tractors equipped with specialized mowers that efficiently prune acres of blueberries in a fraction of the time it would take to burn. The uniformity of the cut, the return of organic matter to the soil, and the significant cost savings have cemented mowing’s place as the preferred method.

However, fire has not been entirely banished. Some small-scale growers, particularly in very rocky or remote fields where machinery access is difficult, may still occasionally resort to straw burning. There’s also a lingering debate among some traditional growers about the specific benefits of burning – its ability to “clean” a field of certain pests or diseases that mowing might not address as effectively, or the unique nutrient release that high heat provides. While scientific consensus leans towards mowing as equally effective for yield, the historical and anecdotal appreciation for fire’s “sanitizing” effect persists in some areas.