ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT

When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.

It’s no secret that Door County is a special place. Wisconsin’s proverbial vacationland, every year some 2.5 million tourists drive up to the northeastern county, half the size of Rhode Island, with a population of only 30,000. Some come with a predilection for hurrying up and waiting for ice cream sundaes at Wilson’s in Ephraim or Swedish meatballs with a side of goats on the roof at Al Johnson’s in Sister Bay. Others travel for a different indulgence – the sweet and savory taste of the Cape Cod of the Midwest (without salt or sharks!), courtesy of the fishing villages, lighthouses, coves, and cottages dotted along the maritime coast in the middle of the continent.

But beyond the fish boils and boutiques, the art galleries and vineyards, it’s the landscape’s natural allure and the dual profile of Lake Michigan and Green Bay surrounding this pinky-finger peninsula that captures our hearts, despite the traffic and the difficulty of finding somewhere to park. For us, it’s the actual parks we seek, each a museum of nature’s art.

Featuring five total state parks and 21 county parks, no other county in Wisconsin offers such a portfolio, or passport, to so many exquisite spaces. Nowhere outdoes the outdoors like Door County.

Sure, maybe you’ve already been to Whitefish Dunes and Cave Point, climbed the Eagle Tower at Peninsula, or taken the ferry to Rock Island. Maybe you’ve even kayaked along the triumphant Bluff Headlands or backpacked to a primitive campsite in Newport. These state and county parks offer a treasure trove of beauty and bounty. But have you ever heard of Erskine Woods or Heins Creek? The former is a Natural Area, the latter a Nature Preserve – both protected under the umbrella of the Door County Land Trust (DCLT). And would you guess that, along with designated conservation easements, the DCLT oversees and helps preserve more land acreage in total than all of the state parks in the county combined? It is perhaps its best-kept secret. Or should that go to Town Hall Bakery? The Bitters Club? Maybe Bad Moravian.

Streaming nature in the lush forest at Detroit Harbor.

PHOTO CEDIT DAN EGGERT

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But what is a land trust and what does it do? According to Gathering Waters, Wisconsin’s land trust alliance, it is “a community-based, nonprofit organization that works to protect and preserve natural spaces forever.” By preventing future development, “critical habitat is available for animals and plants” and “communities have access to open spaces for everything from outdoor recreation to sustainable farming.” Altogether, over 40 land trusts span Wisconsin, from east of Duluth-Superior to south of Milwaukee-Racine. And 2026 marks the 40th anniversary of the Door County Land Trust.

Concerned about the encroachment of private development – public access to natural spaces shirked, farms and orchards shrunk – residents could foresee a looming future and banded together. Incorporated in 1986, the DCLT protected its first property as a conservation easement in Baileys Harbor, coincidentally (or perhaps kismet) not far from Wisconsin’s first-ever land trust, The Ridges Sanctuary. The DCLT might have lacked the funding to purchase the property outright, but it was wealthy in wisdom and vision. What started with 113 acres in 1986 has grown to about 10,600 acres today, and more than 90 such conservation easements now exist throughout the county.

A conservation easement is not open to the public. Rather, it is a legal agreement between a property owner and the DCLT that permanently restricts the kind and quantity of future development that can occur on the property, thus conserving its ecological ethos and land ethic integrity – and enshrining a very Leopoldian idea. The DCLT becomes a guardian responsible for maintaining the agreement’s terms in perpetuity, while the property itself remains in private ownership.

A Family Affair

Conservation easements often entwine a particular family and the land that has been their home for a long time. Take the Barnards, whose 120-acre property has been in the family for almost 150 years. “When you have a generational connection to the land, it becomes a part of who you are,” Carl Barnard declared. With his brother, William, the Barnards have collaborated with the DCLT to preserve their property, a mix of timber and agriculture – appropriately for Door County, a cherry orchard. Here, tomorrow’s branched shoots are rooted in yesterday’s soil that ensouls a living presence today. “Preserving working lands ensures that the cultural and natural heritage of Door County endures for generations to come,” affirms Drew Reinke, Conservation Easement Program Manager at DCLT.

The reverence for ecology has been passed down to Carl’s daughter, Rebecca, a forester and hunter who grew up on the orchard and, as an adult, has protected 18 acres of her property with Niagara Escarpment rock outcropping as a conservation easement, in part out of concern for the overpopulation of deer. “By conserving the land she loves, [Rebecca] is protecting more than just hemlocks, oaks, and cedars that grow miraculously in the crevices of the limestone bluff,” says Lucy Kodkiewicz, DCLT Communications Coordinator. “She’s preserving the ecological integrity of a landscape she actively stewards.”

Or consider the Gaugers. In July of this year, Elizabeth Gauger donated four of the six acres she received from her late parents, Donald and Susan – nature lovers and defenders both – who had first become acquainted with the DCLT when nearby Bay Shore Blufflands Nature Preserve was protected in 1996. “Leaving a legacy in my parents’ name is the greatest feeling,” Elizabeth shared. “Their spirit will always be there, looking over that property.”

Sunset at the edge of the world at Little Lake.

PHOTO CREDIT DAN EGGERT

Paying It Forward

For Ariel Pate, donating 40 acres of critical habitat to the DCLT goes beyond borders. By connecting to a nearby nature preserve via an ecological corridor, the conservation values she inherited from her father extend to the next generation. “I hope people can experience a connection to place,” she said, “and an appreciation for how nature recovers and adapts.”

While conservation easements exemplify the critical role local landowners play in sustaining Door County’s unique natural heritage, they comprise less than 40% of the land the DCLT protects. The majority is composed of Nature Preserves and Natural Areas (with a scant 6% transferred to other agencies or municipalities better suited to provide stewardship, such as town parks).

The main difference between a Nature Preserve and a Natural Area is that the latter offers no infrastructure or maintained trails. Natural Areas are open to the public, but due to their fragile habitats and overall sensitivity, their locations are not published. You find them by serendipity, like a cache of wild mushrooms or a den of fox kits. Respect and discretion are the better parts of valor here. In our social media-driven sphere of oversharing everything everywhere every day, there is a coy pleasure in not knowing a secret. It’s the best kind of hide-and-seek!

By contrast, a Nature Preserve beckons the public and offers parking lots, kiosks, trails, bridges, and more. From the northwest corner of Washington Island down to the southeast edge of the Door-Kewaunee county line, there are a total of 15 Nature Preserves. The smallest is a modest 26 acres; the largest is an impressive 515 acres. Each offers a hiking trail that averages 1.5 miles in length – over 20 miles of trails total. The preserves are open from dawn to dusk and free to enter. Visitors should walk only on designated trails, and dogs must be leashed. For humans and canines alike, a policy of Leave No Trace prevails. No wildflowers, plants, rocks, or artifacts may be collected, and fires/ camping are strictly prohibited. Detailed information on each preserve, including maps and photos, is available here: doorcountylandtrust.org/properties. Their excellent website is comprehensive and interactive.

At the Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal Nature Preserve, one can discover the most vibrant population of Pitcher’s Thistle anywhere in the Great Lakes. Once abundant among the dunes, the plant is now rare and declining. That’s just one of the treasures among the 445 acres and 2.5 miles of trails, along with white pines, sandy ridges, wetlands, and two historic lighthouses. Or perhaps you’d prefer to hop over to Kangaroo Lake Nature Preserve, DCLT’s first. Here, you’ll find not only an ancient glacial shoreline hovering 130’ above delicate Peil Creek, but a cast of characters that consecrates the ecological range of Door County itself – from lakeshore to farmland, and boreal forest to cedar swamps.

Bear Creek Nature Preserve best embodies the spirit of giving back. Once a dairy farm, today its 75 acres are a mosaic of open grasslands, forested wetlands, old-growth cedars, and a glacial meltwater stream whose cold, oxygen-rich waters sustain a population of rainbow trout. Converting a private property into a preserve is neither simple nor straightforward, says Conservation Director Jesse Koyen, but rather like a trail itself: long and winding. In 2025, contractors constructed a bridge, and volunteers helped build a boardwalk and remove old farm equipment from an earlier era. Looking for a hands-on-deck, boots-on-the-ground experience? Go to doorcountylandtrust.org/take-action/volunteer to get involved.

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Funding for these preserves relied heavily on the Knowles-Nelson Stewardship Program, which state lawmakers allowed to expire earlier this year. Over its history, the DCLT received nearly $11 million from the program, providing roughly half the cost to protect Nature Preserves like Kangaroo Lake and Sturgeon Bay Ship Canal. Now, for the first time since it was enacted in 1990, Wisconsin has no state fund for protecting land and ranks dead last in the nation for spending on public lands per visitor.

According to a statewide poll commissioned by The Nature Conservancy in 2025, more than 90% of Wisconsinites support renewing the program (and presumably a majority of Chicagoland residents as well, given the preponderance of Land of Lincoln license plates found around Door County). While Knowles-Nelson is not technically on the ballot, Wisconsinites will indirectly decide its fate this November by voting for the next governor and which party will control the State Legislature.

Despite the legislative loggerheads, the DCLT seeks to protect one of Green Bay’s most important fisheries and exceptional estuaries along the mouth of Kayes Creek and Little Sturgeon Bay. Here, underground springs seep and feed the creek, which in turn provides critical habitat for bass, pike, trout, and walleye, not to mention migratory birds and even a rare species of dragonfly previously thought extinct. The area has also been a haven for humans. Well before Europeans arrived, a Menominee village called “Chickatoek” bordered the nearby forested lands. Given the indefinite hiatus in state funding, the DCLT welcomes donations to convert tilled areas back to healthy wetlands and build low-impact trails so the public can experience what it hopes will be its sixteenth preserve.

An autumn morning in Door County is as crisp as its apple harvest, and a walk along Toft Point helps clear my thoughts. Where else in Wisconsin does one identify by county name only? You might live in or visit Sturgeon Bay or Egg Harbor, but when asked, the answer is Door County. This synecdoche doesn’t even apply to other parts of the state where it could. People will casually name-drop Boulder Junction (pop: 1,057) in a way they never would for Vilas County, as if its snowmobile trails or cabin-lined lakes are more charismatically Northwoods than neighboring areas. There’s something distinct about Door County and its sailboat feel of azure skies and cerulean water, sand as soft as an open hand or bone-white limestone bluffs along rough, rocky shore. Or Door County and its boreal-forest, fairytale feel, cedar swamps, swales and bogs, or blossoming orchards, bumble bees, and winnowed fields of wheat. Call it Door terroir…

And there’s something particularly laudable about the Door County Land Trust, whose tireless work weaves ecology and culture into braids of habitat and narrative protected into perpetuity.

A seagull pierces the quiet shush of water lapping the beach, and it dawns on me that the need for this work has never been fiercer. One of Leopold’s lines comes to mind: “Ethical behavior is doing the right thing when no one else is watching,” a simple notion so foreign and forgotten in our time of extrinsic values begging to be validated. As we barrel blindly into a newly wounded world filtered by climate change and artificial intelligence, resource scarcity and restricted access, invisible giving is not only an article of faith, but a revolutionary act that takes all of us to engage in– property owners, volunteers, and staff motivated not for profit, but protection.

October offers a final huzzah of tourists – mostly en route for the fiery foliage – before the sleepy season returns and the county reverts to its pre-summer norm, its permanent residents once more breathing a sigh of relief that the rest of us have left. Autumn inspires both introspection and looking ahead like no other time of year. I realize that the DCLT is rooted in a cyclical rhythm not so dissimilar, with its commitment to the future and preservation of the past. In the absence of state funding, the DCLT faces stiff headwinds ahead (or “gales” as they’re called on the Great Lakes). But there was no funding in the beginning either. It took a coalition of community members 40 years ago, and it will take a new generation to persevere for the next 40 years. If never is a promise, forever is a pledge.