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I am stating up front that there is no pretense of objectivity in this review. The Chilcotin is my favourite area of British Columbia, and I had the good fortune to see a herd of the wild horses that are the subject of this book. They were magnificent.
This book addresses several topics. One of them is, where did the wild horses come from? The genetic studies show that the horses in the Brittany Triangle, an area that includes Nunsti Provincial Park, are descendants of horses brought to Mexico by Spanish colonists during the 16th century. They were traded to First Nations further north, and this trade eventually extended to western Canada. The key point here is that they were already present when European explorers and settlers arrived in the British Columbia interior. (Mackenzie’s expedition was 1792-93, and Simon Fraser’s expedition was in 1808.) The wild horses east of the Brittany Triangle have a more diverse lineage; there was deliberate breeding with horses brought from Eastern Canada.
This is significant because the horses were regarded by several interests, including the Government of British Columbia, as an invasive species. Several attempts were made to eradicate them, including paying bounties for killing them. The author of this book, Wayne McCrory, made several trips to the Chilcotin, originally at the request of the Xeni Gwet’in nation (one of the six Tsilhqot’in nations), to evaluate the situation. He debunked the “invasive species” claim on several counts. One of them was the long-standing cultural and practical connections of the Xeni Gwet’in to the horses. Another was the balance of the horse population with predators such as wolves and cougars. And as for the effect of grazing, McCrory pointed out that it’s hard to argue that grazing by 2,800 wild horses has any significance compared to 24,000 cattle.
The book has a lot to say about the history and culture of the Xeni Gwet’in. There’s also another interesting idea about the history of horses, that they actually originated in North America, migrated through the Beringian land bridge to Asia and Europe, but then became instinct in North America. Some First Nations have ancient horses as part of their oral history.
The book contains a lot of photographs, some of them in colour. It closes with these words: “It is my hope that my book will stimulate many, many Canadians to speak up to ensure adequate protection of the last two wild horse populations remaining in western Canada; we must save them for the enjoyment and benefit of all present and future generations. The Tsilhqot’in have shown us the way.”
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This book (available here) was written by a remarkable and courageous woman, Alexandra Morton of Echo Bay, British Columbia. It has 335 pages (not including notes), but it took me a long time to get through it. That’s because it contains several stories. Two of them are Morton’s personal history, and the picture she gives of life in the remote coastal communities of British Columbia. It’s something that most people who have spent most of their lives in Vancouver and Kelowna know nothing about.
Mostly, though, it’s the story of her battle against salmon farms in the Broughton Archipelago off northern Vancouver Island. It began in 1989, and didn’t end until February, 2023.
Things started to get serious in 2001, when large numbers of wild salmon were infected sea lice. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, because of massive sea lice infestations in Scotland and Norway. Two years later, Morton and other scientists (including one from the Federal Department of Fisheries and Oceans [DFO]) observed massive die-offs of pink salmon. In 2009, there was a collapse in the Fraser River sockeye salmon return. As time went on, Morton and her allies observed fish that were blind, had tumours, and were missing their lower jaws. In 2013, pink salmon and chinook turned up that were yellow all the way through.
Morton and her allies – most of the First Nations in the area, the T. Buck Suzuki Foundation. the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, Don Staniford, Greg McDade, and Jeff Jones – submitted a mountain of evidence that salmon farms were destroying the Broughton Archipelago ecosystem and the wild salmon population. Two major efforts to mobilize public opinion in 2010, the Get Out Migration and the Paddle for Wild Salmon, were major successes. The Norwegian fish farm companies – Mowi, Cermaq and Grieg – took a page from the playbook the tobacco industry used 20 years earlier, saying “there is no evidence”, or “the evidence is inconclusive”. Morton and her allies won several court cases. The Cohen Commission released a set of recommendations in 2012. Despite all this, and the position taken by most of the First Nations that the fish farm companies were trespassing on their territory, the fix was in for a long time. It wasn’t until 2017 that the Provincial government came around, and it wasn’t until February, 2023, after publication of this book, that Minister of Fisheries and Oceans Joyce Murray announced that licenses for 15 salmon farms in the Discovery Islands, a key migration route for wild salmon east of the Broughton Archipelago, would not be renewed.
One of the remarkable things about this saga is, because of the remote location and the general lack of interest of Canadian media (radio commentator Rafe Mair and Vancouver Sun columnist Mark Hume were two notable exceptions), Morton and her allies were pioneers in the use of social media. There was Facebook, of course, but videographers Twyla Roscovich and Damien Gillis (who worked with Mair) stepped forward to make hard-hitting YouTube videos. They made effective use of cell phone cameras (despite often spotty coverage) to show people in Victoria and Vancouver what was going on.
My biggest takeaway from this book was just how hard it is to stop something that has big money behind it. It’s a sobering lesson for climate change activists; it not enough to have all the evidence on your side; those who oppose changing anything will cast doubt and delay, and they have lots of friends in the right places.
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Here: Politically Incorrect: How Canada Lost Its Way and the Simple Path Home
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As a politician, broadcaster, advocate and speaker of truth to power, Rafe Mair was crucial to the public conversation in B.C.
When, just two weeks ago, he died at age 85, the tributes poured out.
Rafe left provincial politics for the airwaves, his radio shows reaching people not just in B.C. but across Canada with his hard-nosed commentaries and fearless interviews, always in defence of the province he loved.
When his radio employer dropped him despite top ratings, The Tyee was pleased and fortunate to provide Rafe a home. For over a decade, he was a regular Tyee columnist enjoying zero censorship, as he himself proclaimed. Here at The Tyee, Rafe was free to wield facts and common sense against forces of greed and destruction — and to defend B.C.’s natural legacy.
Rafe Mair earned the title “conscience of the province,” as Tyee Founding Editor David Beers stated the day after he passed away.
That is why The Tyee is honoured to announce that we — with your help —will be launching the Rafe Mair Memorial Fund, dedicated to funding investigations and solutions reporting about environmental issues in B.C. As Rafe regularly reminded us, there is no shortage of stories to cover, whether it be Site C, fracking, mining, wild salmon, pipelines, run-of-river generators or forest habitat. And we invite you to add your own topics to the list. Read full article at The Tyee
Paul Watson weighs in: Rafe’s Ocean of Courage: Paul Watson on His Friend, and Building a Legacy
]]>Earlier article by Lautens: Bombastic broadcaster recalls talk radio heyday
Excerpt:
]]>He wore an XXL-size personality and brandished a Napoleonic bravado in attack. (Daring a one-way ticket to Elba?) Always in motion, Rafe kicked up so much dust that his career in the Bill Bennett cabinet – health, environment, constitutional adviser – is almost lost in the memory clouds.
He’s proud of it. His own cryptic list: ‘‘Enabled cottage wineries. Beat back banks. Also fought several environmental battles including Kemano Completion Project, saved Skagit, placed moratorium on uranium, stopped killing of wolves.’’
Rafe Mair in Campbell River in 2009, speaking out against GE’s $5 Billion proposed Bute Inlet private power project (Image: Damien Gillis)
Few people are lucky enough to work with, let alone become close friends with one of their heroes. Over the past decade, I got to ride shotgun with mine: legendary politician, broadcaster and environmental defender Rafe Mair. But on our many road trips around this great province, hosting townhall meetings on pipelines, tankers, hydropower, wild salmon and the public interest, it was me who did the driving. Rafe supplied the music – from his ipods full of jazz and old-time classics – and, of course, the stories. So many good stories. As we remember Rafe, following his passing at the age of 85, I’d like to pass on a few.
Now, this is not meant as hagiography to gloss over Rafe’s imperfections, which he readily acknowledged were many – rather as my own recollections of the tales my friend and mentor told me and the adventures we had together. Read full article at The Common Sense Canadian
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