Michael Price, Biologist, Wild Salmon Program.

Spring is early this year, and signs of its bloom abound. Life on the coast races against time to proliferate before summer sun fades to dark. Less visible are the millions of young sockeye salmon migrating out of their ice-free lakes on route to a salty existence. The majority are travelling down the Fraser River, Canada’s largest salmon producing system. Some have travelled 500 km since the ice retreated; others, 1,000. Their journey has only just begun.   Photo: Juvenile sockeye are infected with sea lice when they migrate past fish farms in the Discovery Islands.Raincoast is in its fourth year examining the health of juvenile sockeye in Georgia Strait. We’ve noted that these fish are more heavily infected with sea lice than pink and chum salmon, and infection of the young salmon increases as they pass salmon farms. We’ve documented the release of blood, tissue, and live sea lice in the effluent from a fish farm processing facility in the region. Although we have yet to understand just how detrimental these factors are in terms of disease and parasite transfer to juveniles, they are clearly not beneficial.

Fraser River sockeye returned in record low numbers last fall, one percent of what they were a century ago. Fishing pressure has not helped. Low ocean productivity may be partly at fault. Loss of habitat and pollution have surely been detrimental. But what exactly has caused the sharp decline in Fraser sockeye, no one can say with certainty. It may be that the resilience and buffering capacity that allowed populations to recover from harsh and unforeseen events in the past, has been exhausted from a century of human abuse. All we really know, and all that matters, is that they are at the tipping point in their existence.

I am new to parenthood, and all my partner Clare and I think of is how to ensure our son is shielded from as many harmful stressors as possible – instinctively, we know this will improve his chances of living a full life. We can’t protect him from everything, but we can avoid the harmful ones. When it comes to salmon, and particularly vulnerable young Fraser River populations, should we not provide them the same protection? If we are serious about salmon conservation, and wish to ensure our children’s children inherit plentiful returns of salmon, we must begin by alleviating as many human-induced stressors as possible.

Compared to the far-reaching threat of changes in ocean productivity associated with climate warming, risks to wild salmon posed by industries such as salmon farming are far more easily mitigated. One way is to simply remove net-cage salmon farms from the migration routes of juvenile salmon.

The challenge for our generation is to act.

Our spring field season has arrived and is led by Dr. Chris Darimont, Raincoast Director of Science

by Chris Darimont

Possessing only a rudimentary knowledge of gravity, delicate little claws for braking, and pure trust in their momma, brand new grizzly cubs are slip-sliding their way down snowfields this month as they emerge from their high-altitude dens.

Just how many of these adorable little puffballs pop out and greet the Great Bear Rainforest, however, remains to be seen. It depends not just on the severity of last winter or how romantic their parents were in June, but on how many salmon their moms ate the previous fall.

Will hope ‘spring’ eternal for grizzlies this season, or will it be another desperate year on a coast that owes the bears its name?

This question means more to me now than ever. I’ve been blessed with my own ‘cub’ this spring (our first). My partner, Alison (aka ‘Momma Bear’), and I were fortunate; we had access to abundant and high quality foods throughout our pregnancy. Maëlle emerged from the womb happy and healthy. The same may not be true for the bears.

Chris Darimont & family prepare for the field season in the Great Bear

My family will travel with me and the Raincoast team to the Great Bear this week. We will embark on the second year of what we believe to be the most important applied conservation work on the coast: counting bears and cubs, and assessing their health in an era of dwindling salmon runs.

Our work is more urgent than ever. At the policy level, we are pushing forward meaningful changes to salmon harvest regulations that now allocate only a tiny amount of salmon to bears and other wild creatures. Plus, our work provides evidence-based arguments for abandoning the grizzly bear trophy hunt.

These gains — if they come — will be the result in large part of our outreach efforts, which have inspired more and more British Columbians to care about the future of wild salmon and the non-human animals who depend on them.

I ask you to join us this spring. Follow our new blog. Drop us an email. And consider helping us help the cubs of the coast. Your donation, however modest, could lead to something invaluable. Consider it an investment in grizzly cubs for future generations like Maëlle’s to appreciate, enjoy and respect.

For the bears and salmon,

Chris

Your support makes this work possible! Click here to support the Raincoast Conservation Foundation.

SPRING HUNT 2010
By Chris Genovali

A new decade has dawned, but this month yet another year of grizzly bear hunting will commence in British Columbia.

The B.C. grizzly bear hunt has been a source of unrelenting controversy. Both sides are stuck in a continual expert-driven argument in which each camp claims science supports their position. Perhaps it is time the debate was conducted within the context of ethical considerations as well.

Captain Brian Falconer leads Raincoast’s Spring and Fall hunts. For more information and to reserve a voyage on the Achiever, please contact brian@ raincoast.org. Don't miss this once in a lifetime opportunity to travel in the realm of B.C.'s coastal bears on Raincoast’s research vessel Achiever and experience a different kind of "hunt.”

In his paper, Environmental Ethics and Trophy Hunting, Dr. Alastair Gunn states that “Nowhere in the [scientific] literature, so far as I am aware, is hunting for fun, for the enjoyment of killing, or for the acquisition of trophies defended.”

The compulsion to kill these intelligent, powerful and beautiful animals in order to “bag a trophy” is something poll after poll has shown the average British Columbian cannot fathom.

Raincoast lead the campaign to get a province-wide moratorium on the grizzly hunt enacted in 2001. That ban lasted one hunting season as with a change in government via the spring 2001 election came a revocation of the moratorium. Raincoast’s response was to look for new and creative ways to further grizzly bear conservation – a particularly noteworthy one being the purchase of a 24,000 square kilometer commercial hunting tenure in the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest.

Managing and monitoring our guide outfitting territory costs money, as does our efforts to investigate potential additional acquisitions. Speaking of which, we are on the verge of moving forward with another guide outfitting territory purchase – details to come!

We need your support to continue our work to protect bears and other large carnivores on the B.C. coast.

Your support makes this work possible! Click here to support the Raincoast Conservation Foundation.

By Chris Genovali

"BC has a dark history of marine mammal exploitation..." said Misty MacDuffee, Raincoast biologist and a report author.

Lessons from the Exxon Valdez oil spill in Alaska have shown that even after two decades, some species and fisheries still have not recovered.

This includes killer whale populations, some seabird populations, shellfish harvesting and the commercial herring fishery. If the proposed Enbridge Northern Gateway pipeline is constructed from Alberta’s tar sands to Kitimat, we could see supertankers like the Exxon Valdez in BC waters transporting oil to Asian and American off shore markets.

“Our findings show that a spill the size of the Exxon Valdez, which is not even in the top 50 largest oil spills, would have a profound impact on marine mammal and marine bird populations on the BC coast,” said Dr. Paul Paquet, Raincoast senior scientist and an author of the report.

“BC has a dark history of marine mammal exploitation. Since we stopped hunting whales, sea lions, and sea otters to the verge of extinction, we are witnessing their recovery in our coastal waters,” said Misty MacDuffee, Raincoast biologist and a report author. “Now there is talk of putting tanker routes in their feeding grounds and risk their habitats to the threat of a catastrophic spill. More sea otters died in the Exxon Valdez oil spill than exist on the entire central and north coast of BC.”

“Terrestrial wildlife also face great danger from an oiled coast. Coastal grizzly bears and wolves, which rely on marine foods, would suffer in an Exxon-like catastrophe,” said Dr. Chris Darimont, Raincoast large carnivore scientist and an author of the report.

We appreciate your past support.  Your donation will support Raincoast’s efforts to stop the Enbridge pipeline and keep oil tankers off BC’s north coast.

Your support makes this work possible! Click here to support the Raincoast Conservation Foundation.

By Ian Jansma, Research Assistant

Denny Island Field Station

When I signed up as a volunteer on Raincoast’s salmon-carnivore study, I didn’t realize I’d be spending my days up to my armpits in blood. In the moist, pungent darkness of the ‘Blood Shed’, I mix fish oil and cow’s blood into a frothy cocktail with a stench so eye-wateringly acrid, yet so sickly sweet, that it will be irresistible to grizzly bears.Though distasteful to the vegetarians among us (and to the omnivores, for that matter), at least I’m making good use of fishing and beef industry byproducts. Better still, I’m helping with an important and unprecedented grizzly study in the Great Bear Rainforest. Alongside a companion project undertaken by our partner, Coast Watch (a Heiltsuk First Nation initiative from nearby Bella Bella), our studies are providing the first scientific analysis of grizzly bear numbers and distribution on the central coast.

Some of the other volunteers are on their way to remote estuaries, or hiking centuries old bear trails into the rugged coastal mountains. Meanwhile, this is my time to shine. I must act quickly – before the blood coagulates too much – and add the final ingredient: a splash of beaver castor oil.

The beaver oil is bottled for hunters, and we use it for much the same purpose as they do: to attract bears. But, while hunted bears may find themselves between a bait barrel and the barrel of a gun, the bears in our study area will find only an unsatisfying pile of bloody moss that smells strangely of fish and beavers. We don’t desire bear hides on our floor; we want only a few hairs. Our bears will investigate the bait, leave small tufts of hair on a strand of barbed wire that surrounds the site, and move on.

We have a hundred sites across a vast area, and we all work around the clock for six weeks each spring to bait them and collect the hair samples. The hair will go to laboratories where DNA, stable isotopes, and even hormones are extracted. DNA, along with GIS mapping, tell the tale of the coastal bears’ numbers and movement patterns. Stable isotopes are used to calculate the amount of salmon each bear has eaten. Collectively these data, taken over several seasons, will be vital in determining how bear birth and growth rates are affected by changes in salmon abundance. Overall, we will have a remarkably vibrant picture of bear health on our coast.

Having reliable information on the health of bear populations will help direct conservation efforts. It will also inform any debate in which bears are stakeholders, including the debate over trophy hunting. One thing is already clear: bears suffer an increasingly long list of abuses to their way of life, from decimation of their habitat by industrial forestry to depletion of their food source by chronic overfishing, fish farms and changing ocean conditions. Hunters’ bullets and arrows are not the only things killing bears. Still, I’m confident that one result of our work will be to help end the hugely unpopular trophy bear hunt in British Columbia.

While “bear baiting” is not a legal hunting method in BC, trophy hunting is permitted for big carnivores, including grizzly bears. The debate over trophy hunting in our province is unresolved and seems to be at a standstill. The political weight of overwhelming public opposition doesn’t quite outweigh the political clout of trophy hunting lobbies. What’s needed is a good dose of real science to tip the scales.

Meanwhile the bears try to go on as they have for millennia. For some bears we realize the science will not come soon enough. That’s why we also encourage everyone who cares about bears to take action and demand more from our government. After I scrub off the smell of stale blood and fish oil, I’m going to write my MLAs demanding they take the health of our bear populations seriously, for there is blood on their hands as well. After all, it’s an ethical issue as well as a scientific one, and a groundswell of public support increases the impact of our recommendations.

In the meantime, the lab technicians need not worry that they have the least glamorous part of the research. But if from the Blood Shed I can help inform better fisheries management, inspire people to share resources with bears, and of course end the bloodshed, then I do it gladly.

Click on the Canada Helps button to support this work.

Three pillars form the underpinnings of Raincoast Conservation Foundation’s mission: informed advocacy, scientific research, and environmental ethics. Informed advocacy drives all Raincoast’s conservation efforts; it’s a distinctive approach that has earned us a unique niche in the environmental movement. Our advocacy is informed by rigorous scientific research and guided by environmental ethics. This allows us to broaden the knowledge of our fragile coast but also deliver a strong conservation message.

As a long standing supporter of Raincoast, I encourage you to invest in their science and research protecting coastal wildlife in British Columbia. Dr. Bristol Foster, Raincoast Board Member Emeritus and Raincoast Donor

For example, Raincoast is re-defining animal welfare. We believe the philosophical boundaries that have traditionally defined animal welfare should be broadened to include protection of wild species and their habitat. In our view, securing the life requisites for marine and terrestrial wildlife is the quintessential application of animal welfare.

Safeguarding carnivores from the trophy hunt.  Protecting species from the dangers of oil spills. Ensuring animals are not deprived of critical food resources, like spawning salmon. Advocating for strategies that will help wildlife survive in the face of climate change. In our view, these are all animal welfare issues.

Raincoast continues to implement creative strategies and pursue innovative and practical solutions in 2010 and beyond – from science like our Salmon Carnivore research that links salmon abundance with bear health, to acquiring additional guide outfitting territories, to bringing our conservation message to millions through traditional and new media sources.

Your support of Raincoast enables this work. It protects coastal wildlife, it builds science literacy in youth, and it inspires ambassadors and protectors of our precious coast line.

We hope you will consider a donation today to our annual Fall appeal. Please do not hesitate to call me with any questions or comments at (250) 655-1229 extension 225.

Sincerely,

Chris Genovali
Executive Director
Raincoast Conservation Foundation

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!

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by Mike Price

Biologist, Raincoast Aquaculture Campaign
September 2009

The headlines continue to blare across local, regional, and national newspapers: 11 million Fraser River sockeye missing; poor early marine survival blamed.

Earlier this summer, Raincoast Conservation Foundation’s aquaculture field crew was searching the waters among the Discovery Islands at the northern end of Georgia Strait for juvenile sockeye. An unexpectedly beautiful and rich waterway off Vancouver Island’s east coast, the Discovery Islands host one of the largest salmonid migrations on the planet. It is also now home to BC’s highest concentration of salmon farms. There is growing concern that farm-origin sea lice are infecting migrating juvenile sockeye from the Fraser River; hence, our study.

The now missing Fraser sockeye were on course to migrate through this region in the summer of 2007, the first year of Raincoast’s sockeye project. Roughly 60% of the sockeye smolts we sampled that spring were of Fraser River origin, with Chilko and Quesnel stocks dominating the samples. Chilko is the largest producer of sockeye salmon in the Fraser River, and over 78 million fry left the lake in the spring of 2007 heading towards the Discovery Islands.

Even at a low survival rate, the return from these fish alone should have been 1,000,000 sockeye. Since ocean conditions were considered favourable for marine survival during the 2007 out-migration, DFO predicted high spawner returns of over 10 million sockeye. Yet, these fish have failed to show.

Could sea lice infection be the reason so many sockeye of Fraser origin failed to return, just as pink salmon populations have shown declines in another farm region? We are currently trying to answer this. One idea emerging from the scientific community is not that juvenile salmon necessarily die as a direct result of being infected by lice, but rather indirectly. For example, juveniles infected by lice show slower swimming speeds and ‘loner’ behaviour, two characteristics that encourage increased predation risk; more juveniles infected with lice from farms, more food for natural predators, less returning salmon.

Poor early marine survival is the likely cause for the missing Fraser sockeye – question is, are salmon farms the culprit. At Raincoast, we hope our Discovery Islands sea lice research will shed some light on the Fraser sockeye issue.

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by Caroline Fox
Raincoast Biologist and UVic PhD Student

Hazard Point April 2009

Leaning over the side of my skiff at dusk, I peer into the clear, blue waters off Hazard Point, Quatsino Sound. Just below the calm surface, hundreds of tonnes of tightly-packed Pacific herring school. They dart and boil in a camouflaged blue-black unison broken only by the occasional silvery flash of their sides. Contained within their bodies, eggs and milt are almost ready to be released in one of the most spectacular events on the coast; the annual spawning of herring.

And it all begins sometime during the night. Aggregations of male herring release milt or sperm, coloring the nearshore water chalky white as they “milk the beach”, as the fishermen say. And in the opaque white water, each female herring lays thousands of sticky eggs upon the eelgrass and kelps, upon the rockweed and upon the rocks themselves. Once buoyant canopy kelps grow heavy with layers of eggs and in a few places, they begin to lay down in great tangled mats on the seafloor.

In the vast kelp forest spread out before me at dawn, hundreds of Mew, Bonaparte’s, Glaucous-winged, Thayer’s, Herring and California Gulls forage on herring eggs in a wild, swirling cacophony interrupted by predatory Bald Eagles. Scoters, dabbling ducks and cormorants whir past on their way to feed in the sheltered bays further up the inlet while hundreds more settle together in dense flocks in deeper waters. Sea otters dive, bringing up kelp blades encrusted in eggs to be eaten at the surface. A grey whale snuffles in the shallows while humpback whales and Stellar’s sea lions chase the adult herring back and forth across the bay.

As one of the great, historically abundant and heavily exploited fishes of the North Pacific Ocean, Pacific herring still underpin much of the coastal foodweb. Spawning where the land meets the sea, Pacific herring also provide an opportunity to examine the trophic relationships and ecological consequences of a herring pulse to coastal ecosystems, many of which remain unknown to science. Unlike a number of other areas along the coast, herring still reliably spawn in this remote inlet located on Northern Vancouver Island. Part of the ‘silver wave’, this spawn is one of many that still stretch south to north along the Pacific coast of North America and over to Asia each year.

Chris Genovali
Executive Director, Raincoast
May 2009

Last fall I visited numerous watersheds in the Great Bear Rainforest where an unnatural silence filled the air due to the lack of returning salmon. In many systems not a single bear, wolf or even eagle was to be seen. When I did finally see grizzly bears, what I witnessed was deeply disturbing. At a time when they should be gorging themselves on salmon for winter fat, these grizzlies had resorted to furiously digging in the estuary for plant roots.

Grizzlies-especially coastal grizzlies-face a suite of threats to their survival. Destruction of their habitat and overexploitation of the salmon on which their very lives depend may be complicated, multifaceted issues to address. But one threat is not: trophy hunting.

Photos, video and hunt sales on eBay are time sensitive. These photos were downloaded April 30, 2009.

That the government of British Columbia continues to permit grizzly bears to be shot and killed for sport in our parks and protected areas is not only anachronistic from a wildlife management perspective, it is ethically deplorable as well.

While hunters, governments, and conservationists continue to argue about the population status of grizzlies, the inescapable truth is that killing these magnificent animals for sport, trophy, and profit has no place in today’s society.

It’s hard to believe, but these “recreational hunting opportunities” are now bought and sold on the world’s largest on-line auction site, eBay.

In February 2009, Raincoast and our US partner Big Wildlife, approached eBay to request they end sales of carnivore sport hunting on their website, citing that such sales glorify and promote profound animal suffering for fun and profit. Due to eBay’s hesitation, we met with them personally in California to present additional evidence of the ecological, evolutionary, economic and ethical arguments to stop trophy hunting. Further talks ensued. eBay had until April 30 to decide.

Note that eBay also sells African leopard and lion hunts. To see a full listing of hunts that eBay offers go to: Home/Buy/Sporting Goods/Outdoor Sports/ Hunting /Hunting Trips & Leases.

On May 1, eBay announced they would continue their sale of trophy hunting, arguing that the activities “comply with applicable laws” and they only discontinue sales of items the public finds offensive. Clearly, eBay needs to hear from you as to whether gunning down grizzlies as they fish for salmon, treeing cougars with dogs, and blasting away wolves for fun is offensive. We urge you to contact eBay and add your voice to this debate.

The campaign to stop eBay’s auctioning of trophy hunts is just one of our efforts to protect grizzlies and other coastal carnivores. In 2005, Raincoast purchased a guide outfitting territory, forever putting the conservation of grizzlies as the top priority in a 24,000 sq km region. We are currently in discussions to add additional territories and, with the necessary funding, dramatically expand our protection and monitoring efforts.

Most spring grizzly hunts have largely been sold, however they will be back for the fall hunt. Click on photo to watch a grizzly hunt promotional video by the BC Guide Outfitters

Action empowers. Action matters. Use the link in the side bar to donate today. And please consider joining our Monthly Giving program for sustained support of our work.

You can help us in the fight to ban trophy hunting of grizzlies, black bears, wolves and other large carnivores in the Great Bear Rainforest. We need your financial support to continue our leadership role in protecting wildlife in this region. Your dollars translate into a voice at the table where key decisions in the debates that matter to you are taking place.

Thank you for your support! We’ll keep you updated on the eBay campaign and our other initiatives.

Email ebay at press@ebay.com

Sample Message to eBay: I have recently learned that eBay sells trophy hunting of North American bears, wolves, and cougars as well as African cats. I believe this is ethically indefensible and that these activities further violence toward animals for ego gratification and profit. Further, trophy hunting adds to the many threats these species already face. I am asking you to end the sales of these activities.

by Doug Brown
Raincoast Field Station Co-Coordinator
Denny Island, March 2009

The sun is once again shining on the field station bunkhouse after three months of sitting low on the horizon.  The field station is in the north by some standards, on the central coast near Bella Bella, BC. This is the traditional territory of my people – the Heiltsuk. It’s late afternoon and I’m taking a break from my daily duties as caretaker of this beautiful property. I’m enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face through the window, and the light on the water toward Campbell Island.

You might think winter in the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest would be a quiet time for wildlife, but on an average day I will see sea lions cruising by, otters resting on the old float, hooded and common mergansers diving and coming up with blenny’s and sculpins in their bills, mallards sleeping on the rocks, and “Harold” the resident great blue heron watching over it all from his favorite piling. I look further and spy a pair of bald eagles perched on a tall spruce at the point.

A wolf cross Briggs Inlet in the Great Bear Rainforest

Out near a little island that sits across from the field station there are surf scoters, marbled murrelets, common murres, red-necked and western grebes, pelagic and double-crested cormorants. At least once a week I take a boat over to that little island to watch and photograph birds, as it is always active with avian life. Whenever I’m there, it strikes me what a little unknown gem of a spot this is as a stop-off point for so many species of birds. Even journeys into the inlets at this time of year can be rewarded with wolves, such as the one just spotted swimming Briggs Inlet, likely in search of its next meal.

While winter on the coast holds its own quiet attractions, I can sense the whisper of spring and with it, the arrival of new life that my ancestors have welcomed for thousands of years.

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Other news:
UVIc is closing Dunsmuir Lodge

Yes it’s sad. As of April 1st, Raincoast is moving its main office from our beloved forest on Mt. Newton into downtown Sidney, due to the University’s closure and likely sale of the Dunsmuir facility and property. Our mailing address, phone and fax will all stay the same but our physical office space will be located at 2506 Beacon Ave, 2nd floor. It’s a smaller space, but the upside is we will be more central and easier to get to!

By Chris Darimont
Research Scientist, Rainforest Wolf Program
Tanzania, December 2008

Guttural roars and the cracking of bone drown out any sound of the river, which by this time of year has slowed to a mere trickle. On its banks, blood-soaked muzzles plunge into fallen prey as if it were their final meal. Bulbous bellies – stretched into submission – compel the satiated lions into comically ignoble pose; on their backs with paws to the hot afternoon sun. This is the African experience I could only imagine, one born of National Geographic fantasy.\
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Precious water in a mercilessly dry environment

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However, it also became a stunning reality for me this autumn. Longing to broaden my understanding of nature and to satisfy a relentless wanderlust, I eagerly accepted the invitation to collaborate with University of California scientists in East Africa. So, while October saw me sharing streams with bears and salmon in the Great Bear Rainforest, the next month I was bouncing along in a dusty Land Cruiser among lions and giraffes that roam this strikingly different ecosystem.\
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And how very different it was from our Great Bear. An ancient landscape nurtures an astonishing variety of large mammals, many more than hide under our rainforest canopies. And unlike our eternally drenched wildlife, the East African fauna live a life that swings between the poverty of the dry season and the fleeting bounty brought by the rains.\
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There are also remarkable similarities. For one, the famous migration of the Serengeti Wildebeest parallels that of our annual salmon runs. Both transform the wilderness seasonally and draw in carnivores and scavengers from afar. The other similarity, no less spectacular but lacking the beauty, is a seemingly frantic rush for natural resources by human beings.\
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What struck me most about Tanzania, however, are the safeguards against such threats that the government has thoughtfully installed over the last several decades. About a third of Tanzania receives some form of meaningful protection, far exceeding efforts in BC or anywhere else in North America. National parks, marine protected areas and game reserves provide tangible refuges for nature. Although not perfect, such foresight has also created a thriving conservation economy based on eco-tourism. It’s a strategy BC would be wise to adopt.\

When I greet the emerging sedges on rain coast estuaries this spring, I’ll bring my African experiences with me. My thoughts will be increasingly global, but the contributions I intend to make are passionately local. The Great Bear Rainforest has been my home, my classroom, and my place of worship. And it remains so. I’ll no doubt have the privilege to return to Africa, but most of my future safaris will be in the rainforests of home.

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Hungry cubs share a meal with Uncle Tom cat

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Queen of the Savannah

By Caroline Fox, Ornithologist,
Marine Conservation Program

Nepean Sound, BC North Coast, October, 2008

In the fall, the skies, lands and waters of the Great Bear Rainforest teem with marine and coastal birds.  While some will overwinter here, many millions are in the midst of a major migration south.

500 snow geese take to the air on their long journey south. The flight path of these geese was adjacent to the proposed wind farm location on Banks Island and directly on the tanker route path into Kitimat, BC

This event is underway as we cruise south down Principe Channel aboard our vessel Achiever; snow geese fly past with their powerful wings pumping and their brilliant white bodies straining against a strong southerly wind. Pacific loons and surf scoters blur by and distant flocks of other unidentified geese fly past in loose ‘V’ high above. Common murres and rhinoceros auklets sit in the choppy seas around us, before upending themselves with a flash of white to swim away under the sea. Seagulls swirl in our wake, investigating our potential, before peeling away with plaintive cries.

Ahead on the water, I see hundreds of snow geese settling together in a single, densely packed group. Although we are not close nor on a direct course, the geese are skittish; at some signal they leap into the air and the sky becomes a blizzard of wings. They continue south down the long narrow channel. I see them for quite some time, strung out in loose lines that contrast white against the blue mountains and nearly disappear against the fresh snow on the peaks. In the water I find a single black-tipped feather as their only trace.

We follow their path and enter Nepean Sound. With the sun sinking in the sky, my ruminations about geese are ended by an ominous sight. Following the same route of the snow geese down Principe Channel, an oil/chemical tanker materializes out of the haze. Transiting the sound, it heads east to Douglas Channel and Kitimat where it will unload its cargo – tens of thousands of tons of the hydrocarbon product, naptha – load it onto rail cars, and head for the oil pipelines of Alberta.

The tanker Risanger, navigates through Nepean Sound on October 7th carrying its load of naptha, a form of condensate used in Alberta's oil industry.

There is a moratorium in place here; not only for oil and gas development, but also for oil tankers in coastal waters. Yet somehow these tankers have been given tacit permission to repeatedly transit their dangerous cargo through this jagged, labyrinthine coastline. Worse still, there are plans for pipelines to bring crude oil from Alberta’s tar sands to the coast, for loading onto supertankers leaving Kitimat at an estimated pace of 2-3 per week. And it is not just oil, it’s an energy goldrush that threatens the coast; plans for wind farms, micro-hydro and natural gas pipelines are all in the works for the Great Bear Rainforest.

We need to stop and consider what’s at stake. If enacted, many of these projects will have profound environmental and social effects. Without a doubt, there will be oil and chemical spills, both catastrophic and chronic. There will be conflict with fragile ecosystems, including already threatened species and populations. And still more, there will be consequences that we cannot yet begin to comprehend. As the sun sets, the tanker and small flocks of snow geese that still fly overhead begin to fade. The air grows colder and we spend the night, as black as crude oil, in the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest.

By Des Kawai
Marine Mammal Biologist
Grenville Channel, August 2008

It was not a humpback whale. But if not, then what? We were in the middle of Grenville Channel, conducting our summer survey for marine mammals and birds. Usually, the large whales we see in BC coastal inlets turn out to be humpbacks. Yet from a far distance, an observer pointed out that it had an unusually large dorsal fin. As we approached to have a closer look, the whale let out a tall blow, then showed its long sleek body and a falcated large dorsal fin. It was a fin whale.

The long back and falcated dorsal of a fin whale

We were very excited to see the fin whale at the middle of this narrow passage. The BC Cetacean Sightings Network recently reported some sightings near the mainland, but we had never observed this species in this inlet system during our 5-year-survey. This great whale’s numbers were heavily depleted from inshore waters by whaling companies, which didn’t fully stop in BC until the 1960’s. It appears they are finally coming back though, even to such a narrow passage as Grenville Channel.

Ecological information about these spectacular inlets is in short supply, so one of the purposes of our project is to obtain basic information regarding marine mammals and birds. We are trying to estimate abundance of these animals in the province’s inlets, although it is quite a difficult task given the complicated geography of the coastline.

So, you ask, what kind of marine mammals have I seen in the inlets since I

joined the survey in the spring of 2007? As you might guess, the most abundant mammals are harbour seals. We also see other pinnipeds, such as Steller’s sealions and elephant seals. Other

Pacific white-sided dolphins play in Achiever’s wake and bow.

interesting sightings included a stag (male deer) swimming across a passage, with a swimming wolf in hot pursuit! For cetaceans, both harbour and Dall’s porpoise are quite common species, yet they are my favorites. I have seen Pacific white-sided dolphins slowly swimming through a narrow passage, where massive woods stretched their green-coated arms over the passing dolphins. We saw killer whales in one of the passages too. I remember their white breath released in the air with the dark shadow of deep forest silhouetted in the background; they seemed like forest spirits to me. Humpback whales, the passionate great whale, sometimes showed us their dynamic breaches. By contrast, elusive minke whales are one of the most difficult whales to find in these waters. And, of course, there is the majestic fin whale.

The excitement of spotting a fin whale did not leave me for a long time as we kept conducting the survey northwards up the channel. It was becoming evident to me that the other side of Pacific coast in my original country, Japan, could not compare with this beautiful coast. Standing on the observation platform of our research boat, Achiever, I found myself developing a great love of this rugged and remote region. At the same time, I wondered about its future and whether we would find ways to co-exist with its inhabitants.

by Ian Jansma, Field Station Coordinator

Denny Island, July 2008

A new season has begun at our field research station on remote Denny Island in the Great Bear Rainforest. This part of the world gets up late from its misty winter slumber and rolls slowly over through spring rain toward the summer sun. The days grow longer, the air gets warmer, and many creatures answer the call of migration.

Humpback whales, making their long oceanic journeys from their Hawaiian breeding grounds, have come to feed in cold local waters opaque with nutrients and blood-red krill. Grizzly bears are also on the move: one large male, having woken from his hibernation high in the snowy mainland mountains, swam to the island and appeared on our beach to feed on the first sedges of the season. Sandhill cranes have traveled the length and breadth of sky to reunite with lifelong mates on nests tucked away on tiny islets in shallow bogs. And juvenile salmon, swimming with the weight of the coastal ecosystems that depend on them, are migrating from their natal streams to their ocean feeding grounds.

Our research teams have also answered the call. They have converged at the field station from across the bay and across the continent. The wolf crew is scouring the landscape for signs of elusive coastal wolves; collecting scat and hair samples that helps them understand this remarkable and unique population. Our crane biologist is identifying critical sandhill crane nesting habitat. The salmon crew is monitoring sea lice levels; working to ensure that juvenile salmon will have a chance to complete their migration without encountering abnormally high concentrations of deadly sea lice created by open net fish farms. Other research partners are also here, working toward our shared goal of conservation through better understanding.

The world rolls on and the migration continues. Many of the humpback whales have continued north to Alaska. The crane chicks have fledged and are gaining the strength needed to follow their parents south to warmer climes. Five species of pacific salmon are retuning to the coast and are making their way to the streams of their birth. This in turn will precipitate the return of resident killer whales to the area and spark the movement of bears and wolves to the salmon streams.

Animals and plants all along the coast are responding to the bounty of summer while we at the field station toast another successful spring season. One by one the research teams will migrate back to their various laboratories to analyze their samples and data. But soon they will be back. And though the weather is capricious and the seasons are fleeting, the Raincoast field station continues to serve as a home for scientists and conservationists working together for the protection of this vital and vulnerable corner of the world.

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By Misty MacDuffee,
Biologist, Wild Salmon Program

Rivers Inlet, April 2008

The pilings and ruins of old canneries dot the shoreline as I make my way to the head of Rivers Inlet. Like glimpses to the past, they stand as testament to the famed abundance of sockeye salmon that I only know through stories and data sheets. I do not know of days with so many fish.

This journey to Rivers Inlet is at the invitation of the Wuikinuxv – the Oweekeno people who have lived with the rhythms of salmon for centuries. The Oweekeno know of such abundance. It sustained their families, their culture and their wildlife. It is in their bones. Literally.

Today I travel to continue the efforts rooted in our shared concern for these fish. The sockeye fishery itself has been closed for more than 10 years. During this time it has been difficult just to meet the food and ceremonial needs of the Wuikinuxv People. They make difficult trade-offs between the needs of their families and the need for future generations of fish. But this weekend is also about celebration – a potlatch for a passed elder.

We begin the next morning in the kitchen at the back of the bighouse. Sacks of fresh clams are brought in by young men, deer meat and halibut are carried through the doors. Everywhere, people are placing their contributions to the coming meals. I have been placed with the salmon, breaking the sides of smoked and barbequed Rivers Inlet sockeye. I get my first glimpse into the deep connection between these fish and the Wuikinuxv People. I am honoured to be part of the feast preparation.

As the day unfolds, I move back and forth between the front and back of the bighouse, trying to help with food, but not wanting to miss any of the dancing and ceremonies happening out front. Songs and drums carry the stories. Wooden masks, ermine headdresses, and traditional regalia adorn the Wuikinuxv. I watch the dances, listen to the speeches and feel the strength and struggle of a small remote community reclaiming the traditions that connect them to their land and their ancestors. I witness the incredible courage required to heal wounds that link the past with the present. I see emotion in their eyes and hear laughter in their voices.

As dinner begins, I am struck by the beauty of the setting; tables with navy linen, candles and flowers line the wooden benches and the soft dirt floor of the bighouse. The fire burns in the centre as smoke and evening light pass through the smoke hole above. Rain patters on the cedar roof. The earth smells mix with the food smells as I sit down in my bare feet to a magnificent meal.

When the potlatch draws to close, the guests are invited to the last dance. We are taken to the back and dressed in the aprons, robes and blankets used during the day. The women are given direction on the movements. As I step, the hooves and beaks swing and clatter from the bottom of the regalia. The soft dirt sneaks between my toes. The robe has transformed me. The drums beat through me. I feel what it means to be of the land.

Before leaving, I meet with my Wuikinuxv colleagues on the Rivers Inlet salmon recovery team. My work is with the fish, but it is now hard to imagine the fish separate from the People, as I have seen the integral connection between the two.

1) Wadham’s Cannery was one of the dozen canneries operating in Rivers Inlet during the first half of the century.

2) Goose Bay Cannery in Rivers Inlet, one of the few still standing, was the last to close in 1957.

3) 1.5 million sockeye was an average return to Rivers Inlet until the mid 1970s. 1100 gillnetters fished the peak of the runs in the 1950s and 60s.

4) Grizzly bear house column: This replication of a Wuikinuxv big house pole from Rivers Inlet stands in the Museum Subway Station in Toronto. Originals can be seen in Wuikinuxv village and the Royal Ontario Museum.