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When the Land Speaks Through Fire: Indigenous Wisdom, Memory, and Stewardship of the Living Landscape

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Across the sprawling landscapes of Turtle Island, from the western mountains through central prairies, over eastern woodlands, to the northern boreal and tundra, the land carries memory. It speaks through ancient fires, through the whispers of returning smoke, through the cycles of regeneration and loss. Fire is not merely a destructive force but a living relative with agency, voice, and purpose embedded in the land’s sacred balance. 

Fire as a Living Relative and Teacher

In Indigenous worldviews across Canada, whether among the Coast Salish, Anishinaabe, Cree, Dene, Mi’kmaq, Inuit, or Métis, fire is understood as more than heat and flame. Fire is a relative: a powerful presence that teaches and transforms. Fire holds knowledge about when and where to flow, how to clear away the old and invite new life, and when to retreat to allow healing. It is a force that must be listened to, respected, and lived with, not tamed or feared. 

The land itself contains this fire knowledge, its patterns and rhythms, held not only in the soil and trees but also in the pulse of the more-than-human relations that weave together plants, animals, insects, and waters. These relationships have been cultivated through generations of ceremony, stewardship, and attentive listening. 

The Memory of Fires Past: Lessons Written in the Land

For millennia, Indigenous peoples have carried the memories of fire’s many faces: the gentle burns that nurtured wild berries and medicines, the larger fires that shaped forests and grasslands, and the fires that carried warnings and renewal. These memories are more than history; they are living teachings embedded in stories, songs, and place. They remind us how fire once danced in balance with water, wind, and seasons, fostering abundance and diversity. 

The land’s hold on this memory reveals how fire traditionally cleared away invasive undergrowth, opened habitats, cycled nutrients, and created mosaic landscapes vital for wildlife. Indigenous fire stewardship was respectful and purposeful, marked by precision, ceremony, and an understanding of fire’s role as a caretaker. 

The Changing Land: Fire’s Agency Amidst Drought and Climate Change

Today, this sacred balance is strained as climate change stirs new challenges. Prolonged drought and rising temperatures dry the land beyond its natural resilience. Fire’s agency, once harmonized with the earth’s rhythms, now pulses with growing intensity and unpredictability. Wildfires rage more frequently, far beyond the historical rhythms of many regions, threatening the very life-systems they once helped sustain. 

In western forests, ancient conifer refugia for caribou and lynx face pervasive mortality. In central prairies, grasses and wildflowers fail to recover, leaving soil exposed. Eastern woodlands lose their understory of medicinal plants and berries, which are relied upon by birds and smaller mammals. Northern boreal and tundra zones are suffering from the collapse of delicate lichen beds and shrinking habitats for migratory birds. 

All the while, fire continues to assert its agency, challenging all beings to remember and adapt. 

Honouring Fire Knowledge: Stewarding Indigenous Wisdom for the Land and All Life

To walk respectfully with fire in this changing world demands more than technology or control; it demands honouring Indigenous fire knowledge systems, which see fire as a living relation, as part of the land’s voice. 

Non-Indigenous peoples and institutions must listen deeply to this wisdom. Stewardship means recognizing the fire’s spiritual, ecological, and cultural roles as encoded in Indigenous laws, ceremonies, and practices, which are calibrated to the land’s signals and cycles. It means supporting Indigenous leadership with sovereignty over how landscapes are cared for and how fire is welcomed, guided, or restrained. 

 This stewardship involves: 

Recognizing the land’s agency, learning from the land where fire is needed and where it is invited to restore life, not simply extinguished as a threat. 

    • Integrating Indigenous fire timing and techniques, such as controlled or “cool” burns guided by ecological indicators and spiritual guidance, which have been practiced for thousands of years. 
    • Respecting the relational web that includes plants, animals, fungi, and waters as kin with roles in fire’s unfolding. 
    • Bridging knowledge systems where Indigenous knowledge co-creates with scientific understanding, enhancing fire forecasting, monitoring, and response rooted in ecological respect.

Fire as a Call to Renew Kinship and Balance

As drought and dry conditions intensify, the urgency of honouring fire’s role becomes increasingly apparent. Fire teaches humility the lesson that we are part of the land’s family, not masters of it. The fate of biodiversity, including berries, pollinators, game, medicinal plants, soil microbes, and waters, echoes the health of the balance of fire. 

 

In listening to fire’s voice, remembering its cycles, and walking with Indigenous stewardship, humans reclaim responsibility. Fire need not be a force of devastation alone but can become a renewing presence that heals scars, encourages diversity, and sustains future generations of life. 

This is not only a strategy for wildfire management, but a sacred path forward, one where agency, memory, and respect guide us toward living in a reciprocal relationship with the land, honouring fire’s place as a vital and sacred relative. 

Blog by Rye Karonhiowanen Barberstock

(Image Credit: Jan Kopřiva, Unsplash)

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Connecting Stewardship to Climate Adaptation and Resiliency: A Bioregional Approach

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A quick search of terms like stewardship, climate adaptation, and climate resiliency yields a wealth of information. Yet, so much remains disconnected from the more profound human responsibility of protecting and nurturing the spaces we call home. These spaces—our homelands or homescapes—are not just abstract environmental concepts; they define our identity, relationships, and responsibilities to the world around us. They are shaped and sustained through the ecological knowledge and stewardship practices of those who inhabit them. And yet, a critical question arises: How do we, as human beings, truly honour and protect the sacred—the life we live, the land that sustains us, and the interdependent ecosystems that define our very existence?

Too often, humanity perceives climate as a background force, something we attempt to control rather than something we must adapt to. The imbalance we now face—climate change, biodiversity loss, soil degradation—stems from a fundamental misunderstanding: nature does not depend on us; instead, we rely on nature. The climate is not ours to dictate; it follows its natural laws, sustaining life for millions of years before human intervention. So where does this disconnect between people, environment, and climate originate? The answer, in part, lies in the absence of grounded ecological knowledge in our education systems.

Bioregionalism: Grounding Learning in Space and Place

Bioregionalism is a vital concept in addressing this disconnect—a way of understanding the world through ecological and cultural relationships within a given region. Bioregionalism teaches us to see land, water, plants, and animals not as separate entities but as interwoven elements of a living system, where human and non-human lives are interconnected. This framework shifts the focus from political boundaries to natural ones, encouraging stewardship practices that align with the unique characteristics of each region.

Bioregionalism, at its core, is about living in accordance with a place’s natural rhythms. It is about recognizing that every region has its ecological wisdom stored within the landscapes and carried forward by the people who have lived in harmony with it for generations. By integrating bioregional thinking into education, we can teach students to read the land, understand the waters, and observe the interdependence of life forms within their local environments.

Education as a Pathway to Ecological Literacy

Imagine an education system where learning extends beyond textbooks and classrooms, where students are introduced to the knowledge systems embedded in the life of plants, animals, and ecosystems. What if science classes involved studying the wisdom of the forests—learning how trees communicate, how soil regenerates, and how plant and animal communities sustain each other? What if geography lessons were rooted in the concept of homescapes, teaching students to see the land not just as a resource but as a living entity with agency and autonomy?

This is not a radical idea; it is an ancient one. Indigenous knowledge systems have long recognized the agency of nature, acknowledging that every tree, plant, and animal is part of a vast and intricate network of reciprocal relationships. The idea of stewardship is not about controlling nature but respecting it and understanding that every action has consequences that ripple through the ecosystem.

Source: Getty Images (Licenced, Unsplash+)

A Call to Action: Integrating Stewardship in Everyday Learning

To address climate change and environmental degradation, we must move beyond temporary solutions—tree-planting initiatives, carbon offsets, and green technologies—toward a fundamental shift in how we relate to the Earth. That shift begins with education. Stewardship must be embedded in early childhood education and carried through to post-secondary learning.

We must cultivate an education system that teaches children to observe the land with curiosity and care. Instead of asking, “How can we use this forest?” we should ask, “How does this forest sustain itself, and what role do we play in its survival?” Rather than teaching sustainability as a separate discipline, we should weave it into every subject—science, mathematics, history, and the arts—ensuring that students understand the ecological and cultural context.

Reconciliation with the Land: A Future Rooted in Resilience

As humanity faces the irreversible effects of climate change—rising sea levels, extreme weather patterns, ecosystem collapse—the urgency of reconciling our relationship with the land has never been greater. While some environmental changes may no longer be reversible, our approach to the future can be transformed. The path forward is not simply about mitigating damage; it is about reconstituting and reconciling our environment to restore balance.

This means supporting regenerative agriculture, restoring degraded landscapes, and fostering a profound cultural shift toward bioregional stewardship. It means moving away from extractive economies and toward caretaking economies, where the land is not seen as a commodity but as a community to which we belong.

By embracing bioregionalism, we shift our mindset from exploitation to reciprocity, from short-term gains to long-term resilience. When we look down at the soil rather than up at the sky for solutions, we begin to understand that climate adaptation is not about technological fixes but about reconnecting with the original knowledge systems that have always existed—knowledge that reminds us that the Earth does not belong to us; we belong to the Earth.

A Future Where Life Thrives, Not Just Survives

The urgency of climate change calls for more than reactive measures; it calls for a profound, structural transformation in how we live, learn, and govern our relationship with the land. Bioregionalism guides this transformation, grounding climate adaptation efforts in place-based knowledge and ecological wisdom. It reminds us that the solutions to climate change are not found in isolated policy decisions or technological interventions but in how we educate the next generation to see, respect, and care for the world around them.

Let’s take up the challenge of integrating ecological literacy and bioregional thinking into our education systems. We can create a future where humans act as stewards, not dominators—where forests, rivers, and lands are seen not as resources to be consumed but as relatives to be cared for.

This is not just an environmental imperative but a moral one; it is the work of our time and the legacy we will leave behind. Will we choose to thrive alongside the land, or will we merely fight to survive? The choice is ours, and the time to act is now.

 

–  By Rye Karonhiowanen Barberstock

 

(Header Image Credit: Arnaud Measureur, Unsplash)

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Reflecting on the Future: The Importance of Generational Stewardship in Combating Climate Change

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In my quieter moments, often while leafing through the latest research and reports, I ponder the gradual degradation of our natural world. Human interaction, mainly through industrial and technological advancements, has left indelible marks on the Earth, and climate change remains a critical concern. This has led me to wonder about the state of the world for the next seven generations. If we consider a generation to span 25 years, this places the seventh generation in the year 2199. But what if we viewed generational shifts as cyclical, akin to the Earth’s revolutions around the sun? This perspective implies that every year is pivotal in shaping the future of our planet.

Today, the signs of climate change, though not yet disrupting our daily lives with immediate urgency, are undeniably present. From a broader environmental perspective, the consequences of a warming planet are profound, especially for our flora and fauna. Are they adapting to these changing conditions? History shows they have adapted before, but at what cost and to what extent can they continue to do so under the accelerating pace of human activity?

Reflecting on the past year alone, the increase in severe weather events, such as thunderstorms and tornado warnings, starkly contrasts with the isolated incidents of my childhood. This trend towards more extreme weather is problematic to ignore and has heightened my sense of preparedness as we approach another unpredictable season.

Looking ahead to 2199, I often wonder whether our future generations will be equipped to handle and adapt to these challenges. How will they fare against the potential storms of change and uncertainty? The decisions we make today will shape their reality.

As I observe the world around us, it becomes increasingly clear that we need a deeper understanding of our role within our ecosystem. Our survival and the preservation of life systems depend on our ability to sustain our ecological homeland. Without nurturing our natural resources—our water, air, and biodiversity—we risk not just hardship but possible extinction.

This realization brings an acute responsibility to act, not just for ourselves but for the entire planet. It requires acknowledging that humanity is not the center of existence but a part of a larger ecological equation. Each of us has a role to play in caring for our planet, preserving the systems that support all life forms.

The path forward involves embracing ecological knowledge to become effective stewards of our environment. This stewardship must be ingrained in our collective consciousness, influencing actions and policies that not only address the immediate environmental issues but also consider the long-term impact on the Earth and its inhabitants.

By fostering this ecological awareness and responsibility through generational education, I hope that by 2199, humanity will have cultivated a profound respect for our planet. This respect must translate into actions that support sustainable living and consider the welfare of the countless generations to follow.

As we continue on this journey, let us strive to leave a legacy that the seventh generation and beyond can look back on with gratitude—one where they inherit a world not only habitable but flourishing. A world where they, too, can thrive and continue the cycle of stewardship and respect for the richness of our shared Earth.

 

– By Rye Karonhiowanen Barberstock

 

(Image Source: Casey Horner, Unsplash)

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Change is Constant

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Change is constant. We know this, but just how aware of change are we? If I asked you whether the moon was waxing or waning and at what time and where you would see it in your sky tonight, would you be able to answer without asking Google? The moon is a constant reminder of change. Each month, Moon guides us through a cycle of death and rebirth; she guides the oceans’ tides to ebb and flow and encourages our own inner waters to pause and stir. If we are unable to feel Moon, to notice her moods and offerings, then what else are we missing?

How attuned are we with the mice, the frogs, and the birds? Do we notice the native hare turning white in the way that we notice the leaves changing colour? Do we notice the shift from hearing singing robins to cawing blue jays? How often do we notice that the frogs have stopped serenading us and leaping about? These are ways that nature reminds us that change is constant. Yet, we seldom pause long enough to be with nature, let alone to pay attention to the implications of nature’s signals and reminders.

To me, understanding climate change is about reconnecting with ourselves. When I am in a constant state of doing, I disconnect from the earth. I run myself ragged with a constant state of busyness which begins to deplete my energy reserves. As my energy tank hits empty, I begin to push and berate myself for my lack of productivity. I begin to put eating and sleeping on the low-priority list, which perpetuates a cycle of distress, and leaves my body wide open for dis-ease.

The more dis-ease I feel, the poorer my choices become. I turn up less than a friend, a mother, a partner, and a community leader, and I become unavailable as a steward of the earth. When I lose my relationship with Earth, I lose my ability to heal. Healing with the earth is a relationship that requires presence—mine and Earth’s. When I am sick, so too are the plants and animals in my care. When I am well, I am supported by Earth’s rhythms and healing gifts.

Climate change, just like the moon’s cycles, is happening. You could debate whether climate change is a natural occurrence or man-made, but what you cannot deny, when you are one with the earth’s rhythms, is the feeling of a mother’s erratic heartbeat as she grieves, or the sight of seasonal changes in the plants and animals. And to see or feel these things, you must be present. Presence is impossible when you are in a constant state of motion. Presence requires slowing down and witnessing.

To find climate change is to learn the names of the 13 Moons, as spoken by Indigenous people in your area, and to witness the syrup run two weeks before its full moon or the blackberries ripen three weeks before their moon.

To find climate change is to notice, in your daily connection to the land, that the different black birds—crows, grackles, rusty blackbird, and redwing blackbird—have migrated 2 weeks earlier than usual.

To find climate change is to watch the frenetic pace at which mice and chipmunks forage, and the intensity of spiders eagerly trying to get indoors while it is still 30 degrees outdoors.

Change is constant, but if we have no awareness of what ‘constant’ even is—what it looks like and feels like—then we cannot possibly notice that it is change; therefore, making it easier to deny that we, as human beings, have any role in contributing to climate change or any need to help stop it. To be constantly unaware is like having a permission slip to ignore the aching heart of the earth. The price we pay is an aching in our own hearts. We are all connected, whether we want to be aware of the depth of our connection to each other or not. Where there are healthy people, there is a healthy natural environment. Regardless, the return to a healthy way of being must start with awareness—awareness of what is and what is not—and that can only happen when we reconnect to Earth’s rhythms of constant change.

 

By Tawny Stowe

(Photo Credit: Tawny Stowe)

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Planning for Climate Change in Canadian Municipalities

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Planning for climate change in Canadian municipalities can include different approaches undertaken by city governments to manage natural resources, land uses, transportation, infrastructure, and city services in order to mitigate, or adapt to, climate change. These approaches may also involve diverse members of the public in decision making processes.

An official plan (or general, community, or master plan), is a formal document that helps a city or community to outline a vision, and key objectives for various aspects of land use and development in their jurisdiction, and over a long period of time (sometimes 10 years or more). In Canada, cities of different sizes are required by provincial law to have an official plan, like in Ontario. Official plans can be amended from time to time too. In 2010, the City of Iqaluit (Nunavut) was the first municipality in Canada to incorporate climate change in its General Plan (see section 2.5). The extent to which municipalities include climate change goals in their official plans varies widely across Canada.

Some municipalities are seeking guidance to find innovative ways to address climate change through their official plans, and they have developed different kinds of partnerships to achieve their goals. For example, the Clean Air Partnership published a report based on their collaboration with approximately 30 municipalities in Ontario to seek ways to promote clean air initiatives and to address climate change through municipal official plans. In another example, the National Measures Report 2019, released by the Federation of Canadian Municipalities (FCM), highlights how 400 municipalities, members of the FCM’s Partners for Climate Change Protection (PCP) program, developed 420 projects across Canada to reduce greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions at the local level. These are projects, rather than plans, that show how city-operated facilities and services, as well as local businesses, homes, and transportation, are all vital to reducing GHGs in the atmosphere.

The Canadian Institute of Planners (CIP), working on behalf of planners across Canada, offers various informational resources on climate change and planning. The CIP’s Policy on Climate Change Planning, encourages professional planners to incorporate climate change-informed planning into all aspects of planning for cities and regions in order to meet an ethical obligation to the planet. However, among the barriers that prevent planners from incorporating climate change priorities into planning practice are the lack of political support and of up-to-date information, for decision making and forecasting.

The Climate Alliance, a network of 1,800 European municipalities – large and small, urban and rural – has developed a partnership with Indigenous peoples of the Amazon Basin to address climate change at the global scale and to emphasise the importance of sustainable forestry worldwide. Since Canadian municipalities are located on Indigenous lands, municipalities might consider assessing how their climate change priorities could align with the climate change priorities of the Indigenous communities whose lands they occupy. Such an effort may highlight shared or divergent priorities in fighting climate change, and the potential for communities’ resilience to climate change effects.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

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Indigenous Land-based Learning: A Way to Take Action on Climate Change

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As young people and the young-at-heart go back to school this fall, it is good to revisit how Indigenous land-based learning is a way to take action on climate change. The impact of COVID-19 on society has also shed light on the importance of outdoor education.

According to a report inspired by the work of the Misipawistik Pimatisiméskanaw land-based learning program in Misipawistik Cree Nation, Manitoba, “Indigenous land-based learning typically uses an Indigenized and environmentally-focused approach to education by first recognizing the deep, physical, mental, and spiritual connection to the land that is a part of Indigenous cultures.” Indigenous land-based education teaches environmental stewardship. Simply put, Indigenous environmental stewardship reflects all the ways that Indigenous peoples honour Mother Earth, including practices of conservation and sustainability, as well as showing a responsibility for one another, as human beings.

Indigenous scholars at the University of Guelph in Southwestern Ontario have been working together with several community agencies, including the Global Youth Network, the Grand River Métis Council, and the White Owl Native Ancestry Association, to establish the Wisahkotewinowak teaching garden at the university’s arboretum. The garden is a space for youth to learn from Indigenous Elders about seasonal medicinal and edible plants. Wisahkotewinowak, is an Ojibway word that means “the growth of new shoots after a fire.” Youth are also involved in a project that involves the Niisaachwan Anishinaabe Nation and that combines learning about manomin (wild rice), an important food source for Anishinaabe people, with learning about changes to the land brought on by human settlement along the Winnipeg River. The Manomin/Wild Rice Project offers opportunities for land-based learning and intergenerational cooperation that also characterizes Indigenous food sovereignty projects.

In another example, children and youth ranging from kindergarten to grade 8 at the Biitigong Nishnaabeg Elementary School, just outside of Thunder Bay, Ontario, are benefitting from learning about traditional knowledge and skills, like manomin harvesting, from Indigenous Elders and Knowledge Keepers. The pilot project is run in partnership with Lakehead University, and has led members of all ages of the Biitigong community to learn about the benefits of land-based learning. Land-based practices characterizing Anishinaabe pedagogies, including those among communities governed by the Grand Council of Treaty #3 territories, offer insight into cultural practices, and practices that maintain a strong sense of identity among diverse Anishinaabe peoples.

The benefits of Indigenous-led education, including land-based learning, are also formally recognized, at the international scale, by the UNESCO. According to section B19 of the UNESCO Policy on Engaging with Indigenous Peoples, “effectively including indigenous peoples’ knowledge, holistic worldviews and cultures in the development of education policies, programmes, projects and practices and promoting their perspectives, would provide meaningful learning opportunities that are equally available, accessible, acceptable and appropriate for all indigenous peoples.”

There is an opportunity for Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities, and for their respective governments, to consider linking both educational policies and diverse practices that support Indigenous land-based education with climate change action.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

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Education Through Interaction: A Community-Based Approach to Environmental Monitoring and Climate Change

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Beginning in October of 2018, two members of the Gift Lake Métis Settlement began training as Environmental Monitors through a partnership between the Indigenous Community-Based Climate Monitoring Program and the Gift Lake Métis Settlement. Gift Lake is a small Métis community located roughly 400 km northwest of Edmonton, Alberta and sits in the heart of the boreal forest. It is surrounded by rich vegetation, forests and many water bodies left behind by ancient glacial meltdown. Once the Gift Lake Environmental Guardianship Program began, we focused on the primary concerns of the people within the community. This started with one-on-one interaction with elders through interviews and surveys filled with questions relating to the similarities and changes in the environment and climate of Gift Lake over the years. Through this communication it was clear what our goals would be: educating ourselves and the community, while maintaining a balance between a scientific approach to research and a sense of community through human interaction and methodology.

An elder in the community said, “nothing connects us more to our culture than the land.” She was right. Indigenous people have had a very close tie to the environment for millennia. Now we can tie culture, science and education to protect our culture through the protection of our invaluable environment. We immediately enrolled in Environmental Education programs and soon we were out in the field daily. Our efforts were split into 6 categories: air, weather, water, vegetation, traditional plants and wildlife while making sure to continually have an active presence and relationship with the community. Weather monitoring stations were installed on the north and south ends of the community and the data is collected daily in the effort to fill a data gap that has existed in the area until now. A water monitoring project was initiated through field level testing. Our main goal for the water monitoring efforts is to note any major or alarming trends that could affect quality of the water which would affect the quality of life for all living things. From our tests, three initiatives were born: bridge building for ATV stream crossings, ongoing lake sweeps for abandoned nets and waste, and the continual monitoring of the water levels in our three largest lakes.

On top of taking a scientific initiative to learn about the land and climate, we also wanted to bring awareness to the community. We have taken the opportunity to be part of land-based learning activities at the K-9 school through facilitating workshops on topics including dendrochronology, climate change, drone flying, rabbit snaring, traditional herbs and even gun safety. A High School in High Prairie, Alberta also invited us to speak to students and introduce the prospect of being employed in the environmental field. We would speak on issues regarding climate change and relate on a more personal level including our successes, struggles and overall experiences growing up in a small Indigenous community and moving into adulthood. In the spring of 2019 two high school students were hired as trainees and included in all our environmental, climate action and community engagement activities. We did this not only to teach, but to instill the importance of the environment by introducing them to the beauty of their surroundings and the amount of gratification and confidence that comes from protecting our lifeline. The youth have taken part in dendrochronology (tree aging), bridge building, water testing, weather monitoring, wildlife monitoring, well-site reclamation, tree planting, marking traditional herb GPS waypoints, facilitating a large cultural camp with 7 other communities and numerous community engagement events. They have also been given the opportunity to take part in community-based projects such as designing and building the community two new welcome signs, starting a community garden, building a children’s park and initiating a garbage clean-up with elementary school children; allowing them to play a mentorship role as well. Since returning to school both youths have contacted us expressing how much they loved the program and how they hope to come back next summer. This is the level of interest and environmental responsibility we wish to instill within the entire community.

The struggle to succeed does weigh heavy on us at times and we understand the differences in everyone’s views about climate change and environmental protection. We have seen failures, but they are over-shadowed by successes. Our environmental and climate change programs are only in their beginning stages and programs like this are extremely new to everyone around us. We welcome the challenge and treat our roles as a major responsibility to act as champions for the land. We believe there is only one possible way to achieve that: to be role models among the people.

 

Installation of north end weather monitor

Installation of north end weather monitor

 

Building ATV crossing on a fish bearing stream

 

Community garbage clean-up

Community garbage clean-up

 

Climate change workshop during Gift Lake Culture Camp

Climate change workshop during Gift Lake Culture Camp

 

Gift Lake Culture Camp

Gift Lake Culture Camp

 

Youth trainees on left after completing the construction of a small playground

Youth trainees on left after completing the construction of a small playground

 

Youth trainees after finding a 1950 Buick Riviera while marking waypoints on historical trails

Youth trainees after finding a 1950 Buick Riviera while marking waypoints on historical trails

 

Mentorship during reclamation project on abandoned well-site

Mentorship during reclamation project on abandoned well-site

 

Youth use an increment borer to find the age of a tree

Youth use an increment borer to find the age of a tree

 

Youth expresses his love for a 150-year-old tree

Youth expresses his love for a 150-year-old tree

 

Youth pulls abandoned gill net from Utikumasis Lake during lake sweep

Youth pulls abandoned gill net from Utikumasis Lake during lake sweep

 

Pre-school session on the importance of moose. Included making birch bark callers

Pre-school session on the importance of moose. Included making birch bark callers

 

Grade 3 and 4 nature walk. Session on the role of rabbits in the environment and traditional snaring activity

Grade 3 and 4 nature walk. Session on the role of rabbits in the environment and traditional snaring activity

Grade 3 and 4 nature walk with information session

Grade 3 and 4 nature walk with information session

 

High School presentation and information session

High School presentation and information session

 

One of two signs designed and installed by Gift Lake Youth

One of two signs designed and installed by Gift Lake Youth

 

New community garden

New community garden

 

Author: Gift Lake Métis Settlement

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Climate Change Adaptation in Kanaka Bar

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At Kanaka Bar, preparing for climate change is seen as an important milestone towards the achievement of community’s vision of self-sufficiency.  It is being incorporated in everything that is being done by the community on a day to day basis.  The Traditional Territory of Kanaka Bar is located 14 kilometers south of Lytton, B.C., in the Fraser Canyon. Water plays a critical role in the health of the community. Kanaka Bar has five watersheds: Kwoiek Creek, Morneylun Creek, Nekliptum Creek, Siwash Creek and Four Barrel Creek, all of which support traditional food sources, wildlife and agricultural activities, provide drinking water to the community and hydroelectric power to BC Hydro’s grid.

Over the recent years, many changes have been observed throughout the Traditional Territory. Community members have noticed that wildlife is moving away from the community and travelling further up-mountain, salmon numbers are decreasing and are swimming deeper in the Fraser River in search of cooler temperatures and vegetation growth is changing. As well, consistent rainfall has been replaced by long periods of dry weather and unpredictable storms. These local observations are consistent with scientific predictions of how climate change is likely to affect the region. Although drought has not yet affected the community’s water resources, there is substantial concern that they may be threatened as climate change impacts intensify.

In response to these concerning changes within their Territory, Kanaka Bar has undertaken a Community Vulnerability Assessment to better understand how their environment may continue to change, and how these changes may impact key community values and areas of concern.

Understanding Kanaka Bar’s concerns and priorities was the first step in the Vulnerability Assessment process. Together with environmental professionals from Urban Systems, community members gathered at engagement events to ask questions, and express their concerns about climate change and how it would impact community life and well-being.

After priorities were identified, current and future effects of climate change on these areas were studied. Some anticipated changes that emerged from this research were warmer temperatures year-round; less precipitation in the summer but more in the fall, winter, and spring; less snow; more frequent and intense storms events; changes in water resources; continued stress on the salmon population; changes in the availability of traditional foods; and increased risk of forest fire.

Understanding the ways in which Kanaka Bar was vulnerable to climate change has allowed the community to take meaningful steps towards reducing their risks and becoming more resilient by developing an adaptation strategy. Kanaka Bar’s Adaptation Strategy supports their goal of self-sufficiency while increasing their resilience. It maps out short and long term adaptation actions in six priority areas: Water Resources, Forest Fires, Traditional Foods, Access Roads, Supporting Self-Sufficiency and Youth and Community Engagement and Education. These actions range from installing weather monitoring stations in the community, to expanding food production initiatives, to hosting annual workshops on climate change. Together they represent a “Made at Kanaka, by Kanaka for Kanaka” adaption plan that will benefit the community in a holistic way that goes far beyond coping with climate change.

To learn more about Kanaka Bar and the great strides they’re making towards climate resilience and self-sufficiency, visit their website.

Figure 1Kanaka Youth at Morneylun Water Gauging Station

 

Author: Kanaka Bar

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Eco-Cultural Approaches to Climate Change Adaptation (NRCan Webinar)

On March 28, 2019, a webinar on Eco-Cultural Approaches to Climate Change Adaptation was presented by the Tsleil-Waututh Nation (people of the Inlet). This webinar provides an introduction to the TWN Climate Change program, youth stories, and community climate resiliency planning.

We have received permission to share the recorded webinar on this website as it may contain valuable information and insights for other First Nations communities working on climate change projects in Canada.

Click on the image below or click here to start the webinar (length – 1:02:08).

(Note: You may be prompted to download Adobe Connect to watch the video – a link to the download will appear automatically).

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The Urgency of the Climate Crisis

Globally, we have been discussing the effects of a changing climate for quite some time.  However, it has been only recently that these discussions have widely acknowledged the urgency of this change- an urgency that acutely reflects the experiences of many First Nations communities.  This acknowledgement is represented by the very words we use to talk about our planet’s climatic situation.

Following the Paris Agreement discussions of 2015, many have adopted the term “climate crisis”, when referring to the extreme shifts in our global climate.  Terms previously used for these shifts included “climate change” and “global warming”.  This progression in terminology reflects our evolving understanding of the environmental situation our planet has ben put in.  Interestingly, it also shows a transformation in our understanding of how people respond to the situation, depending on the labels we use to talk about it.

Through to the mid-2000s, “global warming” was the term widely used when referring to our changing climate.  Slowly though, many began to realize that the term “global warming” not only falsely represented the true complexity of the issue we were creating, but that a slightly warmer planet even sounded appealing to some.  And so came our use of the term “climate change”.

While “climate change” succeeded in acknowledging the complexity of this phenomenon, and is still the most accepted term used today, it has proven unable to captivate the majority of people into taking meaningful climate action.  It dampens the message of urgency that the world needs to hear, leading to the acceptance of these changes as a fact, rather than a fault.  Instead, we need words that instil meaningful action.  We need words that convey urgency.

For the first time, we have a label that now directly reflects the realities faced by many communities around the world, as the planet struggles to keep up with the lifestyles of many humans.  The “climate crisis”.  First Nations communities in Canada are among the many able to articulate this crisis experience.

In the past few years alone, the increase in extreme weather events, including forest fires, flooding, and higher annual temperatures have been notable.  Habitats and wildlife are being lost.  Lifestyles are being threatened.  First Nations communities are often the first to feel these changes, through effects including the loss of traditional means of gathering food, reduced access to winter roads, and the destruction of traditional revenue sources.

This coming week, leaders from various First Nations communities will be gathering in Ottawa for the 2019 Indigenous Climate Adaptation Gathering.  They will be discussing their current and future experiences with the climate crisis, some of which will be shared across communities, others of which will be unique.

Just as the statistical reports of scientists have shown us around the world, the lived experiences of First Nations communities prove that we can no longer passively hope that our planet will be okay.  Instead, we must act on creating meaningful change, and we must encourage the development of realistic adaptation plans for the communities most vulnerable to these changes.

 

(Author Credit: Charlotte Corelli)

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