Joann Bourg stands in front of her new home, about an hour's drive from the low-lying Louisiana island where she grew up -- an area gradually sinking into the Gulf of Mexico.
"I'm very excited. I can't wait to just move on in," Bourg told AFP. "I've been waiting for this day forever."
Bourg is one of about a dozen Native Americans from the Isle de Jean Charles who have been relocated to Schriever, less than 40 miles (60 kilometers) to the northwest -- the maiden beneficiaries of a federal resettlement grant awarded in 2016.
They are the first so-called "climate refugees" in the United States, forced from their homes due to the consequences of climate change.
"The house we had back there on the island -- well, that has been home forever. Me and my siblings all grew up there, went to school down there," Bourg recalls. "It was peaceful."
But the family home -- as with many others on the island -- was destroyed.
Residents are mainly of Native American descent -- several tribes sought shelter on the island from rampant government persecution in the 1800s.
But climate change has transformed the island into a symbol of the scourge that plagues much of hurricane-prone Louisiana -- coastal erosion.
- 90 percent under water -
"This is the first project of its kind in our nation's history," state Governor John Bel Edwards, who was on site to see the residents close on their new properties, told AFP.
"We've had people over the years that we would buy their homes out and move them. But we've not done whole communities like this and moved them to one place before because of climate change."
Since the 1930s, Isle de Jean Charles has lost "about 90 percent" of its surface area to the encroaching bayou waters, explains Alex Kolker, an associate professor at the Louisiana Universities Marine Consortium.
"This community is one of the most vulnerable communities in Louisiana, and Louisiana is one of the most vulnerable places in the US," Kolker says.
- Dead trees -
A year ago, Hurricane Ida slammed into Louisiana as a dangerous category 4 storm; it was the second most damaging hurricane on record in the state, after the devastation of Katrina in 2005.
The storm ripped part of Chris Brunet's roof off his home.
The 57-year-old placed a sign in front of his home: "Climate change sucks."
A few years ago, he finally agreed to relocation, adopting the view of the leader of his Choctaw tribe that it was the only way to preserve the island's dwindling community.
But those whose homes remain upright do not want to completely abandon their ancestral land.
"I plan on being down there a lot, because it's still my home," the 64-year-old Naquin said.
"This house up here is my house. But the island is always going to be my home in my heart."
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© Agence France-Presse
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