Three years ago, our small, independent news organization made a very big decision: we were going to take the RCMP to court.

Now, we’re about to head to trial.

Here’s a quick refresher: photojournalist Amber Bracken was on assignment for The Narwhal in northern British Columbia in November 2021. Amber was documenting tensions over the construction of the Coastal GasLink pipeline through Wet’suwet’en territory when she was arrested by the RCMP.

Amber was handcuffed, held in a cell for three nights and had her camera gear and photographs seized — all for doing her job.

We believe her arrest was a clear violation of her Charter rights — and The Narwhal’s. So we sued the RCMP to take a stand for press freedom in Canada.

And in one week, we’ll be in B.C.’s Supreme Court to stand up for what’s right.

This trial is running for five weeks in Vancouver starting Jan. 12. It’s about more than one arrest. It’s about defending the right of every journalist in Canada to report freely, without fear of police interference.

Here’s how you can stay informed and get involved as the case unfolds:

• Go watch our new video where I explain what’s at stake
• Share this page with your friends and tell them to sign up for email updates
• Come to the courtroom in Vancouver any time over the five-week trial
• Make a contribution to our legal fund for this case

Someone else’s rights were violated that day: yours.

Amber and The Narwhal were fulfilling our mandate to report on environmental risk, resource extraction and Indigenous Peoples’ varied approaches to stewarding their lands.

We were documenting issues of broad public interest, including the injunctions granted by Canadian courts that restrict public movement on behalf of private corporations — and how publicly funded police act when enforcing them. 

Much of Canada’s resource extraction happens in remote places like these. When journalists are arrested, it has a chilling effect on your right to know. 

The RCMP and the Attorney General of Canada draw on taxpayer dollars to fund their defence. But our case relies on extraordinary people like you spreading the word and chipping in.

This case has the potential to set a powerful precedent for press freedom across the country, not only for individual journalists, but for publications too. But we are a small, non-profit newsroom — and we can’t do this without you.

Over the course of the trial, we’ll share updates on this page and in our weekly newsletter. We hope you’ll follow along (and come say hi if you’re in Vancouver!). Amber and I are set to take the stand the week of Jan. 12, and there will be plenty of other important witnesses testifying over the next month.

Will you spread the word about our fight for press freedom today? Every single person who subscribes, shares and supports our case means so much to this little publication and our battle for your right to know.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

“I hope you prove me wrong.”Those words are underlined in one of my notebooks from 2018 — part of a quote from an influential pessimist in my life who told me launching The Narwhal was a bad idea.

Co-founder Emma Gilchrist and I faced our share of naysayers in the early days. Our mainstream media colleagues often failed to recognize us as legitimate journalists, even as they relied on the big stories we were breaking for their own reporting.

So much has changed. Last month, The National broadcast a joint Narwhal-CBC investigation about train-wildlife collisions into living rooms across Canada — just the latest proof that our newsroom, small as it may yet be, will not be ignored.

Collaborations of this scale are made possible by thousands of readers who believe independent journalism is worth supporting. And there’s more: a group of special donors has stepped up to match every dollar you give between now and Dec. 31. Yes, that means if you give $100, we get $200. If you give $250, we get $500. You get the idea! Will you make a special donation today to support our fearless, independent journalism into 2026?

As Emma and I planned our ambitious non-profit publication, we understood that proving our naysayers wrong would rely on people stepping up to pay for journalism they could otherwise get for free.

Thanks to the generosity of thousands of extraordinary people, we’ve done it: The Narwhal has become a leading publication covering energy and environment issues in Canada.

My milestone 40th year is coming to a close, and I’ve been reflecting on its proudest moments. At the top of the list? My mom’s message to the family group chat, celebrating The Narwhal’s big collaboration with the CBC. (Hi, Mom!)

Every dollar you give today makes it possible for us to tell more stories and reach more people — and qualifies for a 2025 charitable tax receipt. Will you help us reach our goal of raising $200,000 by Dec. 31?

Together, we’ll keep proving that guy wrong.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

The saying of being “beside oneself” is used so often in expressions of gratitude that it can feel a little contrived.

But throughout the past week, as I watched more than 1,600 people come forward to donate $147,000 to our press freedom fundraiser, there were times when I physically felt outside of my own body. My mind whizzed back and forth between the present, the moment photojournalist Amber Bracken was arrested and the early days when The Narwhal was still an unproven concept in a dream I shared with Emma Gilchrist.

We started The Narwhal with an unwavering conviction that if we poured our heart and soul into public-interest journalism, the public would eventually see its worth and help pitch in to make it happen. Seven years in, our readers have proven that out time and time again. We now have more than 7,100 members who give what they can each month or year to keep this publication alive.

But last week I felt like we received a double dose of this magic, in ways that are hard to fathom.

Let me backtrack for a second. When we decided to pursue a case against the RCMP for Amber’s arrest, it wasn’t simply a moral calculation. As a small non-profit, we have to constantly fundraise to keep the wheels on the bus. The decision to pursue justice, for an indeterminate time and at an unknown cost, was one we feared could put The Narwhal at risk.

And yet the more we processed the experience of Amber’s arrest amongst ourselves and with the counsel of lawyers, the clearer it became that we needed to stand up for our rights and hold the police to account for throwing journalists in jail cells.

I knew it was going to be a mountain of work to bring this case. Still, I had no idea how the documents and briefings and amendments and transcripts would pile up as lawyers on both sides began in earnest to build their cases.

In December, right before I came back to The Narwhal after a year of maternity leave, I had a call with a few team members and our lawyer to discuss how the hard costs of the upcoming trial were running up. Feeling out of the rhythm of a regular work week and daunted by the challenge of taking over lead of The Narwhal while Emma began her maternity leave (like ships in the night, the two of us!), those figures swirled in my head. Somehow, I needed to get back to my desk and fundraise for all of our operations and also a $20,000 bill for a court transcriptionist, and thousands for expert reports, and other spiraling case-related costs.

The timing felt tricky, too. I’ve expressed one hundred reasons why right now is a very difficult time for us to fundraise for the case: it feels like 10 years have passed since Amber’s arrest. Would anyone even remember this had happened? Will our January trial seem too far off to feel important to people? So much of the work of the case is confidential — how could we possibly stoke the passion of the public to care about documents and depositions they cannot see?

Despite these misgivings, putting off an ask also felt like a risk. We couldn’t just leave the burden of fundraising to the moment we were in trial. We simply had to bring our need to the public. We needed to bring it to you. 

So, imagine our surprise and delight last week, when a mere 15 hours after sending out a single email we had already surpassed our $60,000 fundraising goal. The momentum pushed a gust of warm wind into our sails. Inspired, we made the audacious decision to double our goal, which we surpassed three days later. One week since that initial email was sent, we have $147,595.11 freshly set aside in our press freedom war chest.

I am reminded again of that little something that stirred in my chest when Emma and I spoke wistfully all those years ago of what we could do as journalists, if we could find a way to partner with the public. 

We hear so often about how people are disconnected and disengaged, apathetic and suspicious of the media. But we wanted to believe in the real people obscured by those aspersions and stereotypes — people who just needed to be brought back into a meaningful relationship with journalists who actually serve them, serve the public interest.

Well, dear people, here we are. And look at what we’ve done. 

We have a long struggle ahead of us, one likely to continue well beyond the five-week trial we have barreling down on us in January. But boy, am I ever glad to be walking that path alongside all of you. What a tremendous honour and privilege.

With all the gratitude a girl’s heart can muster, thank you.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

Get the inside scoop on The Narwhal’s environment and climate reporting by signing up for our free newsletter.

The year before we launched The Narwhal, Emma Gilchrist and I sought the advice of a pollster who asked us an intriguing question about the, well, soul of the publication we wanted to bring to life:

“If these folks were throwing a party, what kind of party would it be? Would you want to be there?”

I still find value in revisiting this question and I’m drawn to it again today as we celebrate The Narwhal’s seventh birthday. Seven! I know!

The party question was just the kind of thought experiment we needed at a moment when we were preoccupied with the fear of audiences tuning out from the onslaught of bad news about the environment. Our thinking was informed by the work of social psychologists, who warned that messengers of sustained fear and gloom run the risk of becoming nothing more than background noise.

So, forcing ourselves to think through the concept of a new environment-focused publication in Canada through the lens of party-making felt not only refreshing, but entirely on point.

What kind of celebratory vibescape could The Narwhal whip up that would make people want to join the party? Who would want to be there and why?

It’s not a flippant question. The fact is people are less likely to read the news now than when we launched The Narwhal in 2018. 

People aren’t just overwhelmed by the news, they’re actively avoiding it because it feels too distressing, too complicated or too irrelevant, according to new research from the Reuters Institute, a journalism think tank. And news consumption is also becoming increasingly fragmented as audiences take in their news on major social media platforms, rather than from publications themselves.What’s more, tech companies like Meta can choose on a dime to block news from audiences, as has happened to The Narwhal and every other news provider in Canada that operates on Facebook or Instagram.These trends are even more distressing when placed alongside the rise in AI-generated information, shorter attention spans, plummeting trust in news and the power of fear and anger in supercharging political paradigms.

So, the question seems more important now than ever: how do we get the people to The Narwhal’s party?

The Narwhal was launched as an ambitious remedy to the growing disengagement between people and the journalists who are meant to serve them. We believed then — as we believe now — that there is an appetite for high-quality journalism that draws an eager public back into the conversation about the natural world in Canada. Yet for a long time we operated on a premise of “if we build it they will come.” Now we’re watching the weather vanes — and we’re trying new things to meet audiences where they are at. 

Much work has gone into strategizing around how we do this best without losing the signature elements of The Narwhal’s young brand. Readers across Canada and beyond know The Narwhal for our in-depth features, on-the-ground photo essays (like Amber Bracken’s award-winner) and context-rich explainers you won’t see anywhere else. That work isn’t going out the door; it’s the kind of high-quality, independent journalism we’re doing even more of today than ever before.Our journalists have done incredibly impactful work investigating everything from misconduct allegations at a beloved conservation organization to Alberta’s sudden pause on new renewable energy projects to Ontario’s cuts to the Greenbelt protected area (cuts that were reversed in no small part because of our tenacious reporting). 

We’ve also been consistently dedicated to drawing out the solutions emerging from the heart of some of our deepest challenges. From scientists hand-harvesting seeds of endangered trees, to communities transforming our relationships with forests, to outfitting teeny birds with even teenier backpacks — our team is building up a body of reporting that tells the critical stories of creativity and resilience we need in this moment.

But there is more work to be done from our team to translate our journalism into the accessible and digestible formats news consumers now expect. 

For the last three years we’ve begun to dream in earnest (see chaotic whiteboard circa 2021 below) about the possibility of bringing a full-time video producer and a full-time web developer to The Narwhal.

This past January that dream came to life. (A huge thank you is owed to our monthly and yearly members, who are the force behind these kinds of dreams turning into reality.) And now, for our seventh birthday, we’re unveiling an elegant new video carousel on our homepage. You’ll find repackaged and repurposed versions of our reporting in snazzy video format, designed to bring simplified snapshots of our work to broader audiences that we can deliver on diverse platforms. 

The bigger challenge of building and strengthening direct relationships with our readers also lies ahead. When Meta pulled the rug out from under our Facebook and Instagram feeds, our team responded in kind by doubling down on our efforts to drive newsletter sign-ups — and thousands of you decided to join The Narwhal newsletter party, hundreds more as members. That work, I’m proud to say, won our audience team an Institute for Nonprofit News innovation award for pivoting to productive audience-building tactics amidst a devastating blow for news organizations across the country. 

Our newsletter, with more than 100,000 subscribers and growing, is our most direct and intimate line of contact between our journalists and you, our readers. It’s where you’ll hear how we chased down documents, secretive owners of defunct oil and gas companies and wildlife in misty landscapes. Last year, this weekly newsletter won gold from the Digital Publishing Awards for best product of its kind. And because we want it to feel like a party, it comes with a little levity and a lot of animal gifs. 

A big benefit to us? Readers like you who get a weekly dose of The Narwhal’s storytelling in their inbox are way more likely to make the leap to become members. As a non-profit publication that doesn’t run ads or put up a paywall, those donations are essential to support our 27 staff, and countless freelancers, dedicated to bringing you stories that matter.

We started The Narwhal because we wanted to build a public-interest journalism organization that people not only wanted to read and support but belong to. Ultimately, our members are the lodestone that holds this organization together as we pivot, strategize and grow. As we navigate the challenge of a shifting news environment and evolving media consumption habits, you’re going to see us evolve, too. One thing that’ll always remain steadfast? Our commitment to being a trusted source for news on the natural world you won’t find anywhere else.

Here’s to our next seven years, and many more.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

Editor’s note: We’re chuffed to see the love and support our newest members showed us — and grabbed the last few copies of our annual print edition. We’d love to welcome more readers to this thriving news ecosystem, but we’re all out of this year’s magazines!

It’s uncomfortable, how fragile we can become when we enter into a state of hope. 

With cynicism, there’s a certain invincibility one gets to enjoy. But when you allow yourself to dream — to truly, desirously dream — your vulnerability becomes unavoidable.

I’m reflecting on the uncomfortable stakes of hope as The Narwhal celebrates its fifth birthday. Thinking back to the moments just before we launched this audacious new publication (a non-profit online magazine focused exclusively on the environment? Good luck!) actually makes my heart race to this day. 

Looking back at this screenshot of a conversation between me and The Narwhal’s co-founder, Emma Gilchrist, from April 16, 2018, the day we officially created The Narwhal News Society, gives me a shot of nervous excitement:

There was no way of knowing then what we know today, which is that thousands of other people shared our same dream. And those thousands were willing to join to make the dream of non-profit, member-driven, public-interest journalism a reality.

It almost gives me whiplash to fast-forward and look at what, together, we’ve built today: 

• The Narwhal is now a bustling pod of 24 staff 
• Our team has consistently swept the awards circuit, taking home gold for not only environment reporting, but photojournalism, investigations, digital design and labour and human rights reporting
• In the last year we’ve partnered with the Toronto Star, The Weather Network, VICE World News, CTV, the Winnipeg Free Press and others
• In the last half-year alone, our team has filed more than 230 freedom of information requests all across the country and is at the forefront of the nation’s reporting on Indigenous-led conservation, species at risk and mining
• In the last three months we’ve had reporters on the ground in places as far-flung as Windsor, Ont., Kitimat, B.C., Fort Chipewyan, Alta., and Vivian, Man.

None of this happened on the shoulders of hope alone. It’s taken a momentous outpouring of public generosity — a miracle of sorts — to arrive at this incredible place just five years into The Narwhal’s existence.

More than 6,000 individuals donated to The Narwhal last year to make all of this magic happen, helping us become one of the fastest-growing member-funded media organizations in the country. 

It’s thanks to our members that our 2023 print magazine — available to anyone who becomes a Narwhal today — is packed with award-nominated stories about everything from the true history of Prairie farming to the end of an Alberta community to one First Nation’s long journey home.

When I reflect on those early days of The Narwhal, when it was still just a glimmer of hope on the media horizon, I can recall how painful it was to hear the voices of critics. Emma and I were told The Narwhal was not practical, it was too cute, too flippant, too idealistic, not possible. 

And the thing that proved them all wrong? You. Our readers. And in particular our members — the everyday people across Canada who are so inspired by the importance of high-quality, high-stakes journalism they’re willing to throw their hat into the ring with us. 

Will you become a member today? And as a huge bonus, anyone who joins our pod today will receive a copy of our Narwhal print edition, hot off the presses.

As we cast our minds forward to what we can accomplish in the next five years, we’re again ready to embrace the fragility and vulnerability that comes with the dream of The Narwhal. And it’s once again we remember the thousands of people who have our backs. We hope you’ll become one of them today.

Take care and keep the dream alive,

Carol LinnittExecutive editor

P.S. Our members are the unsung heroes behind our biggest investigations and most ambitious storytelling. Become a Narwhal today to support the blockbuster investigations of tomorrow and we’ll send you a copy of our limited-edition 2023 print magazine! 

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

When the news broke this week that former B.C. premier John Horgan was taking on a new role with one of the most influential mining companies in the country, it inadvertently shone a spotlight on one of the province’s sorest spots: coal mining in the Elk Valley. 

It’s a strangely quiet story in B.C., given its Hollywood-level proportions: huge mountains are shaved down to nubs in bustling around-the-clock coal operations that go on unabated, 365 days a year. Enormous piles of waste rock — left exposed to rain and snow and wind all year long — send a constant trickle of contaminants throughout the watershed and into meandering rivers and creeks known for their prized trout populations. Starting in 2014, scientists warned the pollution, especially selenium contamination, could become extremely dangerous for fish and birds. And then fishermen began pulling severely deformed trout out of the rivers. 

But it gets much worse. Because the leaching is so difficult to control, selenium pollution is now a problem all throughout the watershed and even in the bodies of water that cross the B.C.-Montana border. You don’t have to watch Yellowstone to imagine how the good people of Montana feel about an uncontrolled stream of selenium contaminating their waters and poisoning their fish. 

Experts warn selenium could be a problem in the valley for hundreds or even a thousand years, especially given the colossal size of waste piles.

In the meantime, warnings issued by scientists about the danger of letting selenium build up in the ecosystem appear to be playing out, with fish populations collapsing in rivers immediately downstream of the mines. 

It’s bad enough the pollution in the Elk Valley, a place some British Columbians haven’t even heard of, was a focus of talks between Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Joe Biden during the U.S. leader’s first presidential visit to Canada two weeks ago. 

These are big problems. Monumental, even. So, it’s a wonder to read Horgan’s recent words as he takes up his new mantle on the board of Elk Valley Resources, a planned spinoff from Teck Resources to manage the company’s four coal mines in the valley (assuming a new takeover proposal doesn’t get off the ground). 

“I’ve got other things that I am going to be working on that may be more to the taste of those who would kick up some dust, but the people that are kicking up dust, oftentimes, kick it up for the sake of kicking it up,” Horgan told The Globe and Mail.

“I don’t have a lot of time any more, none in fact, for public comment on my worldview, or what I am doing with my time. I don’t want to be snippy about it, but there are others that are making policy decisions.” The article also mentions Horgan said he will work to ensure the company is respecting its obligations to Indigenous communities and the environment as well as mine workers and shareholders.

Horgan’s words are perturbing for those who were asking for greater accountability for Teck’s coal mines during the time he was, in fact, making policy decisions. That time, it’s important to remember, extended to mere months ago. 

Nasuʔkin (Chief) Heidi Gravelle of the Yaq̓itʔa·knuqⱡiʾit (Tobacco Plains Indian Band) told The Narwhal in late 2021 that “prior to the mines, people could drink out of the rivers.” But not anymore.

“Nobody will eat fish out of there because of the contaminants, which is sad,” she said. “That was a huge part of our history.”

“The mines have put some work into fixing the selenium problem. But it’s not enough. There needs to be stronger environmental regulations at the end of the day, and accountability — so raise the bar and if you don’t meet it, you’re done,” she said.

Horgan did not respond to a request for comment from The Narwhal by time of publication. 

Selenium pollution in Elk Valley increased during John Horgan’s premiership

During Horgan’s tenure, the Elk Valley saw an increase in selenium levels without any meaningful pushback from the province on Teck’s permits to operate. Although B.C.’s water quality guidelines say selenium levels must remain below two parts per billion to safeguard aquatic life, selenium levels in waterways across the valley are as high as 100, 200 and even 500 parts per billion.

The mines are permitted under a flexible regulatory arrangement called the Elk Valley Water Quality Plan that hoped to see selenium levels stabilized by 2023 and decreasing by 2030. 

Instead, selenium levels in waterways all across the Elk Valley continue to increase despite hundreds of millions of dollars invested by Teck for more than a decade into water treatment plants that have struggled to successfully remove selenium and struggled to keep up with the pure volume of selenium. There is still no credible plan in place to handle the ever-increasing selenium levels that are now creeping up in connected waterways as far away as Idaho. 

Yet this is despite the fact that selenium levels have become so high, they have threatened the safety of drinking water for communities in the Elk Valley, and both municipal and private wells in the region have at times been rendered unsafe for human consumption. 

And, although some federal fines have been issued for Teck’s pollution, Ottawa is limited in its ability to respond because Canada lacks federal regulations for coal mining effluent. Under Horgan’s watch, B.C. fought against the introduction of such rules because they would negatively impact industry. 

Rather than causing a reckoning for Teck, the company forged ahead with plans to expand its largest mine in the region.

Unpacking Horgan’s remarks about Teck’s metallurgical coal operations

In Horgan’s brief remarks to The Globe, he also suggested critics who might “kick up some dust” at his new role would be doing so under a false pretense, because he won’t be working for thermal coal but rather metallurgical coal, used to make steel. In doing so, Horgan is already falling into a false frame that overlooks the fact that Teck’s Elk Valley operations are an incredible source of carbon emissions.

According to Teck’s own disclosures, the company’s operational emissions in 2022 are estimated to be 2.8 megatonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent. That’s the same as 6.4 million barrels of oil consumed or the annual emissions from seven natural gas power plants, according to the Environmental Protection Agency’s greenhouse gas calculator.

But the lion’s share of Teck’s emissions come from the use of Teck’s steelmaking coal around the globe. According to Teck, based on the company’s 2022 sales, indirect emissions amounted to approximately 65 megatonnes, or the equivalent of more than 150 million barrels of oil or the annual emissions from 163 gas power plants.

It’s important to remember that Teck Resources is one of the most influential players in B.C.’s corporate-political landscape. For years before corporate and union political donations were banned in 2017, Teck consistently was one of B.C.’s top donors to political parties, giving out more than $1.5 million to the BC Liberals (now BC United) between 2008 and 2017. Teck donated $60,000 to the B.C. NDP, $50,000 of which came days before the 2017 election that saw the NDP take power. 

In the years since corporate political donations were outlawed, Teck has registered 26 lobbyists who since 2020 have attempted to influence policy on a range of issues including climate policy, coal mining regulations and biodiversity. Between July 18, 2017, the day Horgan became B.C.’s premier, and Nov. 18, 2022, the day he stepped down, Teck registered 167 lobbying reports, including 30 meetings or communications directly with the office of the premier. 

Horgan’s move is just the latest sign of Teck’s enormous clout. 

While the former premier may not welcome outside commentary or wish to hear from those inclined to kick up dust about selenium in the Elk Valley, it seems less-than-genuine for Horgan to simply throw up his hands at a problem that festered and grew under his leadership.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

Like many great journalists, Lindsay Sample came to the industry by way of a side door.

Armed with a very heady degree in international development, Lindsay found herself working in an outdoor gear store and desperately wanting to return to the world of practical things — things like exercise and adventure and a tangible connection to the natural world. 

“I just wanted to do something practical with my degree. If I couldn’t take any agency I felt like I was going to lose my mind.” It was around that time Lindsay ended up signing up for a paddling excursion that would have her drive from Canada to Mexico, learning to become a whitewater guide by paddling rivers along the way. But jumping from performing in her school’s production of Vagina Monologues to the more “macho space” of outdoor guiding, Lindsay said she felt some whiplash. “I thought, ‘do I want to be a guide for the rest of my life?’ ” she said. 

Thus began the hunt for something in-between and Lindsay’s eventual eyeing of the journalism master’s degree program at UBC. The program offered her the chance to both move to B.C. and also engage in a field that’s equal parts intellectual and hands-on. When she applied for the program, she was still whitewater guiding in Mexico and when the admissions committee reached out to schedule an interview, Lindsay let them know that they had the wrong number and should call her new Mexican cell instead.  

The admissions committee responded with a letter of acceptance. Apparently they didn’t need the interview, Lindsay said with a laugh. “I guess they thought ‘you must be an interesting human.’ ”

And boy, were they right. Lindsay is now bringing her verve to The Narwhal as our new B.C. bureau lead, where she’ll guide and support our growing team of reporters as they dig into stories about the province’s mountains, rivers, forests, creatures and communities.

As a bonus, if our team ever needs to paddle their way out of a dangerous reporting environment, we know who we’ll entrust our dry bags to!

We chatted with Lindsay about her passion for journalism and what she’s excited for as she joins The Narwhal’s pod.

What is the thing about journalism that just gets you stoked to start your work day?

There are so many shifts happening in the media industry right now. People are pushing to change storytelling practice, integrating things like trauma-informed interviewing, alongside new ways of sharing information and small independent outlets stepping forward to take up space. Seeing this happening around me — and being part of it — is really exciting. 

It’s the opportunity to constantly learn and contribute to changing the way things are done that makes me stoked to show up to work every day. 

What’s the most significant story you’ve ever worked on?

My first full-time job in journalism was working at CBC Marketplace, an investigative TV show focused on consumer issues. Working there, I did a lot of big investigations that involved hidden cameras and exposing wrongdoing. I have some good stories from that time, but probably the most significant story I’ve ever worked on is a big data project about the Trans Mountain expansion project. 

In the months leading up to the federal government’s decision to buy the pipeline, this project was big news. One thing that you heard over and over again in stories was that the company had agreements with 43 Indigenous groups in B.C. and Alberta. But, with more than 130 Indigenous communities identified as impacted by the project and conflicting information about where the various groups stood, we wanted to find out, to the best of our abilities, what was going on. Our goal was to deepen conversations about consultation on major resource projects. 

I put together a team of five reporters, two researchers, a fact-checker and an interactive designer. We called as many members in as many of the communities impacted by the project as possible, pored over government documents and sent reporters on a road trip to find out to what extent communities supported or opposed the project, as well as whether people were consulted and how consultation happened. 

The end result was a massive open-source database and interactive map that detailed where communities stood on the project. We also published a series of explainer stories and videos, led by Trevor Jang, that added context and answered questions people had about consultation. 

What’s some of the most impressive B.C.-based reporting you’ve ever seen? 

I’ve said this to The Narwhal team a bunch already, but I’m in awe of Steph Wood’s reporting, especially her story about the Sinixt people fighting for recognition of their existence at the Supreme Court of Canada. I also think Kelsie Kilawna and the team at IndigiNews is creating some of the most beautiful storytelling I’ve ever read — they are really pushing boundaries when it comes to their approach and I’m grateful to learn from them. And, I also have to give a shout out to my colleagues working on in-depth local news at The Discourse in Nanaimo and Cowichan. Those are the first things that come to mind. Oh, and Chris Cheung’s newsletter for The Tyee, ‘Under the White Gaze.’ 

What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your experience as a journalist?

It’s all about relationships — with your colleagues, with your readers, with the public, with yourself. When I first started out as a journalist, I was really motivated by doing work that I thought was important, basically big investigations and “serious” journalism. Over time, my understanding of what it means to share stories for a living has shifted. Don’t get me wrong, I still love digging deep and working hard, but how I go about it has changed. I’m more motivated to think deeply about the intention behind the work that I’m doing and take care of the relationships I’m building along the way. 

Can you give us any hints about what you’re already working on with The Narwhal’s B.C. team?

I am honestly so excited about the work that I’m already doing at The Narwhal. There are some big investigations in the works, as well as plans to share a little bit more of the work that goes on behind the scenes and create more opportunities to listen to as many people as possible. Also, our B.C. team is going to be growing soon, so stay tuned for job postings. 

Tell us three random things about yourself

I have a dog named Goose, which is not at all because of Top Gun but we do get asked that a lot. 

My daughter, who is 11 months old, recently said her first word and it’s bear (not Goose!). Now, every animal that she sees she proudly shouts, “bear.”

For three years, I lived in a community that is boat-access only. Every day, I would do what I called the urban triathlon: get in the boat and head to the marina, hop in the car with my partner and drive into the city, stop once we got over the bridge, take my bike off the back of the car and then bike to the office. My commute is a lot shorter these days! 

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

Shawn Parkinson knows a thing or two about digital storytelling. From his time working on visual design at Hootsuite to being a part of the creative vision behind the Super, Natural British Columbia tourism brand at Destination BC, Shawn has experienced all sides of crafting stunning visuals that are captivating enough to demand eyeballs on the internet. 

It was catching sight of a photo essay on The Narwhal that planted the seed of curiosity for Shawn about how his skill set could complement the work of journalism. Now, as The Narwhal’s first-ever art director, Shawn is already rolling up his sleeves to help our team tell some of Canada’s most important stories beautifully. From crafting custom illustrations to working closely with some of the country’s most talented photographers, Shawn hasn’t missed a beat since joining our team in January (and that includes his passion for sharing newly released musical gems or suggesting the perfect artist to dial in our Friday afternoon work vibes). 

We chatted with Shawn about his love of design and his penchant for ping pong so you can get to know him better.

Where did your love of design start? Were you the kind of kid who made magazine collages in his spare time?

My mother is very creative and I think she passed it on to me. There were clues about my love of graphics all along but I can only recognize it looking backwards now. When I was around three years old I was crazy about flags. I wanted flags for birthday gifts and had a bunch in my room. As I got older I re-created National Hockey League team logos, album covers and comic book art by hand. I can’t remember any magazine collages!I didn’t understand graphic design was a job someone could do until university and the early days of the internet. Once I knew it could be a career I wanted in! I moved from Calgary to Vancouver for digital design at Vancouver Film School and have had some really great opportunities come my way since. I’ve been very privileged to see the power of great art, design and stories creating change and want others to have the same opportunities and sense of possibility that I did.

What drew you to Narlandia? 

Photography put The Narwhal on my radar and the quality of reporting and the stories covered drew me in deeper. Protecting the natural world and decolonization are very important to me. I love that The Narwhal is covering Canadian stories about the natural world that you just can’t find anywhere else. 

Also, I am a big fan of people-powered organizations. I am in awe of what The Narwhal team and its members have built since launching in 2018. I am so excited to contribute to all the good they are doing for the Canadian media landscape.

In what ways do you see good design leading to good journalism?

Design and visuals are important to enrich stories when appropriate and help good journalism find its audience. We all learn and process information in different ways, the right graphic at the right moment can communicate information or an idea that someone might have missed otherwise. I’ve read about experiments that found presenting information visually increased the accuracy of people’s beliefs about charged issues, something I feel is very necessary in 2022. 

Any big dreams for what you’re going to accomplish with The Narwhal’s team this year?

The Narwhal has always presented stories beautifully and I’m excited to contribute however I can. 

I’m currently digging into how our stories show up on social media to help them find a wider audience. I can’t wait to fire up some video projects and work with photographers to present their great work in new ways that serve the stories they are telling. I’m looking forward to creating layouts in the print magazine that aren’t possible online. I have my first illustration online for The Narwhal and I’m looking forward to producing more along with infographics and visuals to support the stories our excellent reporters are sharing. 

The thing I’m most excited about is engaging new and diverse creative talent to contribute to The Narwhal as photographers, illustrators and filmmakers.

Tell us three random facts about yourself.

My path to a creative career was long and winding. I started out in physics and chemistry in university. I have surprised a lot of my colleagues when I get fired up about A/B tests not being empirical. 

I love ping pong. It’s so fun to me and I think the game itself is a good metaphor for sharing ideas. The pandemic has driven me to outdoor tables but I just got a Christmas gift that turns our dining table into a ping pong table. I read an article about the health and mental benefits of table tennis a few years back and have been pretty unstoppable since.

I am a very good person to have on your team for name-that-tune night. My dad has the same talent, I remember him winning things from radio stations all the time so it must be genetic. My partner has fun with it and quizzes me about obscure songs that were on random ’90s compilation CDs.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

The Narwhal was honoured for its contributions to excellence in journalism at the Canadian Journalism Foundation’s awards gala on Wednesday night. 

The Narwhal received the award in the small media category for B.C. investigative reporter Sarah Cox’s tenacious reporting on the Site C dam, the most expensive public infrastructure project in the province’s history, which has been plagued by repeated budget increases and a lack of transparency that has drawn criticism from hydro experts across North America. 

The Jackman Award honours news organizations that “embody exemplary journalism and have a profound positive impact on the communities they serve.”

“I’m incredibly honoured to win this award for The Narwhal,” Cox said.

“The Site C dam is a hugely expensive publicly funded project that is largely out of sight and out of mind for British Columbians. The project has proceeded without due process, and under a veil of secrecy, with almost no transparency or public accountability. The project is a classic illustration of the importance of investigative journalism.”

“I’m very grateful that the Canadian Journalism Foundation has recognized The Narwhal’s work, largely through freedom of information requests, to provide some transparency for the public and to hold the government accountable for repeated decisions to continue building the dam despite its escalating price tag, continuing questions about its stability, the lack of demand for its power, its unprecedented environmental footprint, and the lack of free, prior and informed consent from First Nations when the project was approved.”

Cox’s investigation hinged on months of work to receive 2,247 pages of never-before-released information about Site C. Scrolling through the pages one by one, Cox found documents from the project’s technical advisory board which detailed a “significant risk” associated with the dam’s stability due to its “weak foundation.” 

The documents revealed senior officials in the B.C. energy and finance ministries had known about the deepening geotechnical problems and the exhaustion of the project’s contingency fund for more than one year before the public was finally informed. The resulting story prompted widespread coverage from other media outlets, including the CBC, The Globe and Mail and Vancouver Sun, all of whom referenced The Narwhal’s reporting.

Harry Swain, who served as chair of the federal-provincial panel that reviewed the Site C dam, said the documents obtained and made public by Cox have had a significant impact on public debate about the Site C dam.

“Until this article was published in The Narwhal, no one outside of BC Hydro and the provincial government was allowed to know that the government’s project assurance board was composed entirely of insiders, or what they reported; or that BC Hydro relied on uncompleted engineering contracts with firms some of their senior managers had worked for.”

Swain said, because of her investigative reporting, Cox is “more of a public servant than many who call that their profession.”

The Narwhal published all 2,247 pages of the documents Cox obtained. They can be accessed at the following links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5.

This is the second major honour Cox has received for her Site C investigation. In May, she was named the co-winner of the 2021 Press Freedom Award from World Press Freedom Canada for her efforts to overcome government secrecy.

The Narwhal’s reporting on Site C was shortlisted among other small newsroom finalists for the Jackman Award, including CANADALAND for its reporting on the WE organization scandal, Open Canada for an investigation into Syrian refugees and the politics around sponsorship and settlement, The Tyee for an investigation into the RCMP’s Project Wide Awake surveillance program and Waterloo Region Record for an investigation into Canada’s last suspected Nazi war criminal. 

In the large newsroom category, the Jackman Award went to The Globe and Mail for its series investigating why Ottawa and the Public Health Agency were unable to respond effectively to the COVID-19 crisis despite Canada’s heavy investment in pandemic preparedness after the SARS outbreak. Other finalists included CTV News Calgary, Montreal Gazette, the Toronto Star/Investigative Journalism Bureau and the Winnipeg Free Press.

The Narwhal is an independent, non-profit publication supported by more than 3,300 readers and as Canada’s first English-language Registered Journalism Organization can now issue charitable tax receipts to those who support our work.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

This article was produced with the support of the Local Journalism Initiative.

When Richard Wyman, president of Calgary-based Chance Oil and Gas, thinks about the Eagle Plains Basin in northern Yukon, he conjures images of a small, bustling oil and gas operation providing a region that’s remote with much-needed energy and jobs. 

That vision was in mind when Chance submitted a proposal to the Yukon Environmental and Socio-economic Assessment Board for a workover of eight idle wells owned, but not currently operated, by the company. The maintenance proposal, which includes flow testing to assess the basin’s resource potential, could lay the groundwork for a new exploration program in the Eagle Plains, an expansive area of rolling hills between mountain ranges 400 kilometres north of Dawson City.

Wyman told The Narwhal upwards of 30 exploration wells could eventually be drilled in the Eagle Plains if there’s enough gas there to make it financially worthwhile.

The possibility of development in the sensitive area is reigniting concerns about the impact oil and gas development would have on the Porcupine caribou herd, one of the largest migratory barren ground caribou herds in North America, which over-winters on the plains. It’s also forcing Yukoners to address whether or not the territory should consider fossil fuel development in a time of climate crisis, the impacts of which are being felt more acutely in the North than in the rest of the world.

The Chance proposal comes in response to a nudge from the Yukon government to assess the suspended wells and either shut them up for good, in a process known as well abandonment, or convert them to active wells once again. Four of the wells are legacy wells bought by Chance that date back to the ’50s and ’60s. The other four wells were drilled by Chance in 2012 and 2013, before the territory introduced a 2015 moratorium on fracking (the company has so far been unsuccessful in its attempt to sue the Yukon government for $2.2 billion in claimed damages stemming from that ban). Now Chance is hopeful that, with enhanced flow testing, some of the wells might show signs of oil and gas resources that could be developed without the use of fracking.

But others say there’s no point in searching for resource potential in an area that should remain permanently closed to oil and gas development.

“It’s always been an extremely marginal project, which is why it’s not gone anywhere,” Sebastian Jones, wildlife and habitat analyst for the Yukon Conservation Society, told The Narwhal. 

“It’s a very remote area. It’s expensive to operate, the conditions are harsh. There’s never been any bankable resources there.”

Jones said oil and gas development in the Eagle Plains “risks causing damage and harm to the environment for no obvious reason.”

But Wyman says the full economic potential for development in Eagle Plains is currently unknown.

“The sedimentary basin has not been fully explored,” Wyman told The Narwhal. 

“If operations are allowed to proceed and the exploration program is successful, it could have a profound economic benefit, both to the territory and the north Yukon, where it’s economically depressed.”

Eagle Plains drilling a test for Yukon climate strategy

Wyman’s interest in creating jobs in the remote region is shared by some Yukoners and members of First Nations who have submitted public comments in support of potential development. Peter Charlie, from the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation community of Old Crow, about 195 kilometres northwest of the potential development area, said he supports the idea of oil and gas taking off in the region. “We need work. It would be good to have people working. There is not much happening up here [in Old Crow], right now,” Charlie said in a submitted comment delivered by phone. “Everyone is going through a hard time. We have to get jobs up here. A lot of young people are not even doing nothing up here. Everyone is talking about this project. We have to get something going here. The project would give us work. It would be good for young kids too.” 

The proposal, currently moving through a slow review process with the board, has also attracted a significant amount of criticism, notably for its potential to introduce ecological threats to a delicate northern ecosystem for a fossil fuel project that seems out of step with the territory’s own climate strategy. 

The territory’s emissions grew by 11.8 per cent between 2009 and 2017, the most recent year for which data is available. In its 2020 climate change action plan, the Yukon government emphasized the need for more renewable energy, especially for the territory’s remote and often diesel-dependent communities, to meet a goal of reducing emissions 30 per cent from 2010 levels by 2030.

There is very little oil and gas development in Yukon and the vast majority of the territory’s electricity needs are met by hydroelectricity. But many remote communities not connected to the territory’s grid rely on costly, and highly polluting fossil fuels that are imported from other provinces. The territory currently spends about $50 million annually on fossil fuel imports.

Wyman argues there’s an environmental advantage to developing oil and gas in the territory, pointing out that Yukon is heavily reliant on fossil fuels for energy generation that have a high emissions footprint because they have to be transported in from out-of-territory.

“However you want to slice it, there’s thousands and thousands of kilometres of supply line … with its own greenhouse gas emissions,” he said. “If we were to find some hydrocarbons that were suitable for consumption in Yukon, we would significantly reduce the greenhouse gas emissions associated with the supply line. You’re going to get a net impact that’s positive.”

“The only question is going to be, does the Yukon give a shit about all the greenhouse gas emissions that are emitted outside the territorial boundary?”

Shortly after Yukon’s governing Liberals were voted into power in 2016, Ranj Pillai, Minister of the Department of Energy, Mines and Resources, received a mandate letter directing him to “promote responsible resource development balanced with environmental management and demonstrable benefits for Yukon by promoting oil and gas development outside the Whitehorse trough and without fracking.”

Brigitte Parker, a spokesperson for the Department of Energy, Mines and Resources, told The Narwhal in an email that Pillai’s letter continues to form the department’s mandate.

“Energy transitions take time and demand for oil and gas may continue into the foreseeable future,” she said.

Assessing the impacts of Eagle Plains drilling to Porcupine caribou

Chance first floated the idea of commercial oil and gas development in Eagle Plains in 2014, but a regional office of the Yukon assessment board determined that the company’s proposal to drill 20 new oil and gas wells could have significant adverse effects for the transboundary Porcupine caribou herd, one of North America’s last healthy caribou populations, which has come under increasing threat from oil and gas development in a thawing north.

According to an evaluation report conducted at the time, the impacts on the herd would have included habitat loss, injury and mortality.

The Chance project proposal area falls within the territory of Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation, which is currently undertaking renewed analysis of how Chance’s current proposal could affect the herd.

Erika Tizya-Tramm, director of natural resources for Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation, told The Narwhal the Vuntut Gwitchin and Yukon governments “are working together to determine both the state of the herd and what those possible impacts could be and what the implications are” in response to Chance’s proposal. Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation, Tr’ondek Hwech’in, Inuvialuit and other nations harvest the Porcupine caribou for subsistence.

In its maintenance proposal, Chance noted it would only be able to carry out its work in the winter months, when the ground and snow conditions would be conducive to heavy trucks and machinery moving around on access roads. But the winter months are when the Porcupine caribou are most likely to be nearby. 

Chance said if more than a dozen caribou are observed from the project area, or if caribou show up and hang around for more than three days, then the company will engage a qualified environmental professional to determine if site-specific mitigation measures are needed.

That plan struck members of the public and even Environment and Climate Change Canada as insufficient. 

In response to Chance’s application, the federal department requested the company “describe the site specific mitigation measures that would be implemented in response to observations of more than a dozen caribou or caribou remaining in place for greater than three days.” 

Environment Canada also noted Chance should describe the specific measures it would take should caribou show up. 

The Yukon Environmental and Socio-Economic Assessment Board also wants to see more from Chance when it comes to assessing and planning for impacts to the herd. In April the board sent 21 specific questions to Chance, including a request for more information about the scientific foundation of the company’s plans.

Among other things, the board says it isn’t clear why Chance chose the threshold of more than a dozen caribou, or the need to establish mitigation plans if caribou linger for more than three days. 

“It is not clear why these numbers have been chosen as thresholds or the conditions and triggers that would result in the need for site-specific or tailored management measures,” the board wrote to Chance.

Amelie Morin, manager of the board’s Dawson designated office, said numerous public comments have noted concerns about impacts to Porcupine caribou. 

“We have seen comments through our seeking views and information period that identified potential impacts to Porcupine caribou and linking that to proposed activities … we’re certainly aware of that and will consider that in the evaluation,” Morin told The Narwhal. 

Tizya-Tramm said there is a lot more work to be done when it comes to understanding how Eagle Plains oil and gas development could impact the herd and to ground mitigation plans for Chance in stronger analysis.

“We’re working to produce more materials around caribou, including safe operating distances and determining significant numbers of caribou that would trigger oil and gas development work to stop or continue.”

In its proposal to the board, Chance did not clarify how its project proposal was informed by engagement with the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation or identify how the nation would be involved in cleanup activities should an accident or spill take place, according to the First Nation’s submitted comments.

“We need to be at the table every step of the way,” Tizya-Tramm said.

Waste injection, flaring at Eagle Plains also a concern

Before full-scale development can even be considered in Eagle Plains, Chance would have to submit a formal application to receive permits for that level of development. 

Wyman said in the meantime, Chance needs to conduct this currently proposed work to determine if there are, in fact, resources available in the basin. 

“There is no certainty that all this work will happen,” Wyman told The Narwhal. “The actual amount of drilling and seismic data acquisition will depend on results as the program unfolds.”

“At this time, we do not have specific locations where we will drill or where we will gather more seismic data.”

“The idea would be to get some more information about well capabilities, reservoir performance and help provide more insight as to what a development might look like with those wells,” he said. 

To get that information, Chance hopes to perform extended flow testing, an activity that involves measuring volumes of natural gas and any associated liquids, such as propane, that may be produced from specific wells. 

“All of this is relevant for designing development plans and engaging potential purchasers of natural gas and any associated liquids,” Wyman said.

He said the wells would be returned to a suspended state following the tests.

According to the company’s project, the tests would involve flaring for roughly six weeks. Flaring is used to dispose of any natural gas that may be produced during testing.

Jones said flaring would cause “considerable disturbance” for wildlife in the area.

“When you burn the gas off, it doesn’t just vanish,” he said. “There are byproducts from burning — carbon dioxide is obviously one of them. There are going to be fallouts of soot and chemicals and stuff like that onto the land around there. It’s also pretty noisy, it’s also pretty hot, it’s also pretty bright.”

Wyman said flaring stacks would be tall to mitigate potential environmental impacts. “The risk of doing anything untoward to the surface should be pretty limited,” he said.

Chance’s proposal also identified another opportunity to use some of the wells for waste disposal. 

Two wells in particular “represent opportunities for deep zone injections,” Wyman said.

Injection wells, which are used primarily to dispose of certain fluids, including propane and waste water, are not readily available in Yukon.

“Rather than taking fluids 2,000 kilometres to a disposal site in British Columbia, which has its own environmental risks, we’d just dispose of them locally,” Wyman said, noting he wants to see the wells already drilled in Eagle Plains put to good use for local communities, either now or in the future.

“This [proposed] project is to protect assets that are viable for future use,” he said.

Wyman said any future exploration work would be done intentionally to be smaller in scale and span a longer period of time, “partly to minimize environmental impacts, but also to help develop local capacity to participate.”

The exploration program has been presented on “several occasions” to affected First Nations, including Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation and the Gwich’in Tribal Council, he said.

But many wonder if extended flow testing or flaring ought to be permitted under the auspices of a well maintenance proposal. 

When asked if flow testing is considered an aspect of well maintenance, Morin from the Dawson designated office told The Narwhal, “I can tell you extended flow testing is an exploration activity. It’s related to exploration. It’s not related to the maintenance activities.” 

Chance Oil and Gas was unable to respond to all of the board’s requests for additional information by its May 10 deadline. The company indicated it would answer those questions within a one-year timeframe.

Chance has until Feb. 22, 2022, to provide responses to the board’s questions. 

— With files from Julien Gignac

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.

The Canadian Association of Journalists presented The Narwhal with an award for photojournalism Saturday, during a Zoom gala to celebrate excellence in journalism produced in 2020.

The award for photojournalism went to Aaron Vincent Elkaim for his in-depth photo feature that examines the impacts of hydro development in northern Manitoba within the larger contextual legacy of ongoing environmental colonialism in Canada. 

Elkaim spent several years travelling to Indigenous communities impacted by six major hydro dams built along the Nelson River, which have flooded and destroyed ecosystems, polluted water, degraded fish quality and exacerbated the problem of economic and food insecurity in the remote region.  

Ninety-seven per cent of energy produced in Manitoba comes from hydroelectricity.

“Manitoba’s hydroelectric dams have always been marketed as clean, renewable energy,” Elkaim writes. “And yet, these projects have massively transformed the province’s northern ecosystems, impacting the culture, lives and livelihoods of Indigenous communities.”

The award is a demonstration of The Narwhal’s commitment to powerful visual storytelling, The Narwhal’s co-founder and editor-in-chief, Emma Gilchrist, said. 

“We launched The Narwhal to tell stories that are often out of sight and out of mind,” Gilchrist said. “We are incredible honoured to receive this recognition for telling an often-overlooked story.”

The award is Elkaim’s second for The Narwhal. His photo essay documenting the impacts of oilsands development on the Fort Mckay First Nation took home the Canadian Association of Journalists photojournalism award in 2019. 

Elkaim’s work has been published in The New Yorker, The New York Times, National Geographic, TIME, Telegraph Magazine, The Canadian Press and The Globe and Mail.

The Narwhal was also nominated for Amber Bracken’s photo essay of the Wet’suwet’en matriarchs who were arrested by RCMP officers enforcing the Coastal GasLink pipeline injunction in January 2020, along with seven other awards. Both Elkaim’s and Bracken’s photo essays are also currently nominated for photojournalism awards with the 2021 National Magazine Awards. 

Launched just three years ago, The Narwhal is ad-free, non-profit and has just eight full-time employees. The Narwhal’s award-worthy journalism is made possible by the more than 3,100 monthly members.

The Narwhal’s reporters are telling environment stories you won’t read about anywhere else. Stay in the loop by signing up for our free weekly dose of independent journalism.