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After the Greenbelt scandal, Ontario farmers race to save their land

Courtney Stevens (left)  with her mom, Judi Stevens, at Wilmot Orchards. Photo submitted. 

When Courtney Stevens stands at the edge of her family’s blueberry farm, Wilmot Orchards, in Newcastle, Ont., and looks across Highway 115, the view is not what it once was. Gone are the fields and trees that used to be fertile farmland — now, it’s bulldozers and rooftops.

“There’s a lot of development happening in our community, and much of it is on farmland,” said Stevens, who is also chief creative officer at the orchards. “We've had developers come to our door with offers to buy our farm for housing development — but that’s never been something we were interested in.”

To ensure their farm remains farmland forever, last week the Stevens family signed a 999-year conservation easement agreement with the Ontario Farmland Trust — a legal safeguard that blocks non-agricultural use, no matter who owns the land in future. 

“Our farm does more than produce blueberries,” Stevens said. “It employs our dedicated workers, provides a quiet escape for the larger community and represents the legacy my family and I have worked so hard to build.”

Her family’s concern isn’t unique. Across Ontario, more farmers are rushing to lock in similar land protections — especially after the Greenbelt scandal, when the Ford government attempted to open thousands of acres of protected land to developers. Though the decision was reversed after public outcry and a damning Auditor General’s report, the episode shattered trust — and left farmers like Stevens' family questioning what land is truly safe.

Stevens said her family was already working on the easement agreement when the Greenbelt scandal happened. 

“The situation only solidified our decision,” she said. “We knew we needed to take action to prevent something like that from happening to us.”

To ensure their farm remains farmland forever, last week the Stevens family signed a 999-year conservation easement agreement with the Ontario Farmland Trust — a legal safeguard that blocks non-agricultural use, no matter who owns the land in future.

Unlike Greenbelt-protected land, Wilmot Orchards sits in the “whitebelt” — a zoning category that leaves it vulnerable to future development. “We had to find another way to ensure our land remained agricultural.”

Stevens said the farmland easement agreement — also known as a conservation easement — protects the natural and agricultural features of the land, overriding municipal and provincial planning rules to ensure it remains dedicated to food production for the next 999 years.

Martin Straathof, executive director of the Ontario Farmland Trust, says inquiries about permanent easements have more than doubled in the past two years — a direct response to the Greenbelt debacle and provincial policies favouring urban sprawl.

“A lot of what we saw with the Greenbelt definitely opened some eyes,” Straathof said. “People started thinking, ‘Hey, this land we thought was protected for the long term can be undermined quite quickly.’”

Straathof said around 70 landowners have reached out, and the organization has expanded from protecting one or two farms a year to working on 10 this year. The trust has protected over 2,700 acres on 26 farms to date.

But there are deeper forces at play too, he said. With over 860,000 Ontarians employed by the agri-food sector, since 2021 the province has been losing farmland at a record pace — 319 acres every day — while 40 per cent of farmers are expected to retire by 2033, many without a succession plan in place.

While Wilmot Orchards is the first in its region to lock in its farmland protection, it’s far from the only Ontario farm under pressure.

In Wilmot Township, just an hour west of Toronto, a cheese farm owner is fighting to keep his 140-hectare dairy farm after the Region of Waterloo moved to seize farmland for a secretive industrial project.

According to Straathof, Ontario has lost 2.8 million acres — or 18 per cent — of its farmland over the past 35 years to non-agricultural uses, such as urban development and aggregate mining. He emphasized that agriculture is vital to everyone in the province, from the food people eat to the jobs that support local communities.

Founded in 1976 by Charles and Judi Stevens with 164 acres, Wilmot Orchards has grown into one of Ontario’s largest pick-your-own blueberry farms, drawing 20,000 to 30,000 visitors each summer. Photo submitted.

“What’s unique about Ontario Farmland Trust’s conservation easements is that they can protect both agricultural and ecological landscapes,” Straathof said. “This makes them a powerful tool, not only for the long-term sustainability of Ontario’s farmland, but also for addressing broader conservation issues like habitat protection and biodiversity loss.”

Government expropriation is technically possible but unlikely, Straathof added, as the Conservation Land Act is designed to protect land for the public good.

Straathof also noted that farmland supports more than food production. It helps manage water, reduce flooding and store carbon, making its protection vital for climate resilience.

A legacy beyond blueberries

Founded in 1976 by Charles and Judi Stevens with 164 acres, Wilmot Orchards has grown into one of Ontario’s largest pick-your-own blueberry farms, drawing 20,000 to 30,000 visitors each summer. The farm produces 100,000 pounds of blueberries annually. Beyond berries, the family runs a dessert café and a fine-dining “supper club.” 

While the family's easement slashes their land’s market value — developers once offered $100,000 per acre — Stevens says profit was never the goal. “Our priority is not the money,” she said. “It’s preserving what’s here — for our community, for future generations and for the soil that feeds us all.”

Stevens hopes their decision will inspire others to follow suit.

“There’s enough land in this country for both homes and food. We just need to be smart about where we build,” she said. “If your soil can grow food, test it and protect it.”

For Stevens, the future now feels more secure.

“We’re growing food on land that’s been in our community for generations,” she said. “Now we know it’ll still be here for generations to come.”

Abdul Matin Sarfraz / Canada’s National Observer / Local Journalism Initiative

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