Surrounded on three sides by oilsands operations, the Fort McKay First Nation has benefited tremendously from industrial development — while also experiencing firsthand its environmental consequences.

While the nation has historically supported nearby operations, when Prosper Petroleum proposed a 10,000 barrel per day oilsands project near Moose Lake, an area of sacred cultural value for the people of Fort McKay, the community reached a tipping point.

The nation filed a lawsuit against the province of Alberta on December 3, after years of effort to prevent the proposal from going forward failed to protect the treasured region and the Fort McKay way of life.

The lawsuit contends that, because of significant forestry, mining, oil and gas development and road building, Fort McKay’s ability to practice treaty rights — to hunt, fish, trap and gather medicinal plants — relies almost exclusively on their continued access to the relatively intact landscape surrounding Moose Lake.

The community camp at Moose Lake reserve, 60 kilometres west of Fort McKay First Nation. Moose Lake is a lifeline to the traditional culture of the people of Fort McKay. It’s a last refuge, still seemingly far from the impacts of industry. The recently approved Prosper Petroleum oilsands project would come within two kilometres of the reserve. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Mark L’Hommecourt smokes a cigarette on the Target Road lookout, his favourite place to connect to nature on the Fort McKay reserve. L’Hommecourt speaks passionately against the destruction of his land by industry, but often finds himself forced to work with those same companies due to a lack of other opportunities in the region. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

As long as the river flows

In 1899, the Fort McKay First Nation became a signatory of Treaty 8, an agreement that promised to preserve the nation’s traditional ways of life “as long the sun shines, the river flows and the grass grows.”

As recently as the 1960s the reserve of Fort McKay had no running water. The people, housed in humble shacks, relied for sustenance on the landscape of Alberta’s northern boreal forest and the Athabasca River — the thread that connected the remote community to the rest of Canada.

This way of life, the Fort McKay say, sustained them for thousands of years.

But as one elder Zackary Powder puts it, “It’s not like it used to be. Everything has changed.”

Smog is seen over the Athabasca River, a place where archeological remains of First Nations people date back over 3,000 years. The river is now lined with industrial sites and is heavily polluted. Locals are warned not to eat the fish which are often found with deformities and tumours. The river feeds into the Athabasca Delta, the third largest freshwater delta in the world, on the edge of Wood Buffalo National Park. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Snared rabbits on the L’Hommecourt trapline. Traditional hunting practices are becoming more difficult for the First Nations people of Fort McKay with less accessible land and questions about contamination of the meat. One of these rabbits was discarded due to an unhealthy looking liver. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Today Fort McKay are a nation of about 800 people, situated 65 kilometres north of Fort McMurray, the heart of the Alberta oilsands, one of the largest oil deposits on the planet.

Over time, Fort McKay has witnessed the incredible transformation of the boreal, from a sustainable resource for their traditional livelihood into “overburden” stripped to make way for open-pit mines, tailings ponds and processing plants.

Over the last two decades, vast swaths of Fort McKay traditional territory have been leased to some of the world’s largest energy corporations.

What has brought significant environmental impact has also offered impressive economic returns, rarely afforded to First Nations on reserves.

Today, Fort McKay’s unemployment is near zero; the average household income is $73,500 a year; they have new roads and housing and own the Fort McKay Group of Companies that generates $200 million annually providing services to industry.

Children play at a playground in Fort McKay First Nation. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Elder Wilfred Grandjambe is seen at his home in Fort McKay First Nation. As a hunter who grew up on the land, Grandjambe is very aware of the negative impacts the oilsands have had on the environment, animals and his culture. Yet with industry as the only employer in the area he understands the catch-22 his community is facing and has himself worked for both Syncrude and Suncor, two of the largest oilsands operators. Grandjambe says he enjoys the comforts they have afforded him. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

James Grandjambe celebrates his 92nd birthday with his sister Flora Grandjambe, left, and Chief Jim Bouchier, right, at the Fort McKay Band Hall in February, 2012. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

September 2013 – Joely Grandjambe looks at a catch of White Fish and Pickerel that were netted by her grandfather Joe Grandjambe at Moose Lake Reserve. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

September 2013 – Maureen Grandjambe arrives with her family to the Moose Lake Reserve on a plane chartered by Suncor Energy, which provide free flights to members of the community. 60 kilometres from Fort McKay, Moose Lake is the only pristine land remaining for the community to practice its traditional culture. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Chief Jim Bouchier, first elected in 1986, has held office in the community for 27 of the interim years. He is chairman of the board for the Fort McKay Group of Companies.

“Jim believes the practice and preservation of the Fort McKay First Nation’s traditional ways of life can occur simultaneously alongside continuous and long-term sustainable oil sands development,” Fort McKay’s website states.

It is now in Bouchier’s name that a lawsuit has been filed against Alberta on behalf of the broader Fort McKay community.

A water truck gets stuck in a driveway in Fort McKay. Since November 2011, water has been delivered to each and every home in Fort McKay after the community realized they had been drinking water with high levels of the carcinogenic chemicals, trihalomethanes and haloacetic acids. Many people complain of rashes and sores from showering in the water. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Crystal and Oren Boucher celebrate their marriage in the Fort McKay First Nation Band Hall. Oren, a long-time employee of Suncor, had terminal colon cancer at the time of his wedding. He passed away one year later on the night of his grandfather — and oldest community elder — James Grandjambe’s 92nd birthday party. Cancer, miscarriage and respiratory illnesses are frequently reported in Fort McKay. Many believe industry is to blame. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Delores Lacord harvests cranberries on the Moose Lake reserve. Each summer, Suncor Energy provides free flights to members of the community to visit their historic hunting grounds to practice their traditional ways. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Garnet Ahyasou stands by Buffalo lake, also known as Namur Lake, while hunting grouse on Fort McKay’s Moose Lake reserve. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Prosper Petroleum’s $440 million Rigel oilsands project would come within two kilometers of the Moose Lake reserve, a remote ancestral territory of unspoiled land with two lakes, Gardiner and Namur, known to the community as Moose Lake and Buffalo Lake.

The community views this land as all that remains of their rights to the wilderness — a lifeline to their culture. Many Fort McKay residents still practice their traditional ways of life here: hunting, fishing, trapping, collecting wild plants and cultivating spiritual practices.

It’s where families take their vacations, where grandfathers pass traditional knowledge to their grandchildren and where people who spent their lives working for oilsands companies build their retirement homes.

The Northern Lights dance over the water at Moose Lake. The area is the only undeveloped land remaining for the community to engage in traditional cultural and spiritual practices and escape into the wilderness. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

A strip mine operated by Suncor, one of the largest operators in the Alberta oilsands. This land was once boreal Forest and, under current regulations, every square-kilometre must be returned to near original condition and productive state after mining is complete, a feat that has yet to be proven possible. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

The PTI Wapasu Camp, one of many camps to house workers from nearby oilsands projects, is located five minutes from Fort McKay First Nation. The Fort McKay Group of Companies provides custodial and food services for many of the camps. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Suncor Energy, one of the largest producers in the Alberta oilsands, supports a land-access program which flies band members out to a permanent camp at Moose Lake during the spring and fall hunting seasons. While Fort McKay has largely worked in partnership with the oilsands industry, they have been fighting to protect Moose Lake for nearly 20 years.

“Fort McKay is fighting for its cultural survival, as one of the largest industrial projects on the planet devours more of our land that has been our home for millennia…We will not stand idly by and let the area be destroyed,” Chief Boucher said in a statement.

Scarecrows, nicknamed “bitumen,” are used to prevent migratory birds from landing on this tailings pond owned by Suncor. Operations in Alberta’s oilsands used 198 million cubic metres of water in 2016. Water used in in-situ mining operations is not recovered. Waste water from open-pit mining operations and the processing of bitumen ends up in massive tailings ponds, which leach into the Athabasca River. The estimated cost for cleanup of the sprawling tailings ponds is $48 billion. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

Yvonne L’Hommecourt, who works as a heavy-haul truck driver for Suncor, boats up the Athabasca river in 2012 while returning to Fort McKay after spending a weekend at her cabin on Poplar Point reserve, between Fort McKay and Fort Chipewyan. Poplar Point is now mostly used for recreation and some trapping. L’Hommecourt spent her summers there as a child and it is where her father is buried. Photo: Aaron Vincent Elkaim / The Narwhal

The future of Moose Lake is important, not only to Fort McKay, but also as a potential warning to First Nations around the country who seek to work productively with resource development while also maintaining traditional lands and ways of life. Fort McKay has often had a voice at the table — something many First Nations struggle to obtain.

But when push comes to shove, will that voice be heard?

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Nobody could ever accuse Chief Jim Boucher of being anti-oilsands.

First elected to lead Fort McKay First Nation in northeast Alberta more than three decades ago, Boucher has made a name for his cooperative relationship with industry, which includes launching a sizable oilsands service conglomerate, denouncing environmentalists and purchasing a 34 per cent stake in a $1 billion Suncor bitumen storage terminal.

But now, a proposed 10,000 barrel per day oilsands project is threatening to infringe on a nearby sacred region called Moose Lake that serves as the First Nation’s “key cultural heartland” and is shared with the local Métis community for traditional activities. And Boucher is speaking out against the project — specifically targeting the provincial NDP for failing to finalize a management plan that would restrict development in the area prior to the regulatory hearings.

“This government does not want to do an agreement with Fort McKay,” said Boucher in an interview with DeSmog Canada, during a break in the Alberta Energy Regulator hearings. “We’ve had discussions with them. As a result of these discussions, we have gone nowhere in terms of trying to resolve our issues with respect to the integrity of Moose Lake.”

A spokesperson for Alberta’s environment and parks department didn’t provide a response before deadline.

‘It’s the last refuge for Fort McKay’

The Moose Lake reserves are actually made up of two lakes — Gardiner and Namur — located about 64 km northwest of Fort McKay. Moose Lake is very important for the First Nation because it’s where the community originated and gravesites are located there.

“This is the one area where it’s pristine,” Boucher said. “People trust the environment, they trust eating the fish, they trust eating the wildlife. It’s the last refuge for Fort McKay. It’s why it’s really important for us to try to maintain some of the integrity that the land will have for our people to continue practicing our traditional activities in the future.”

Land use management plan promised in 2016

In late 2013, Prosper Petroleum — a small company led by veterans of BlackRock Ventures and Koch Exploration Canada — started drilling evaluation wells near Moose Lake, on leases obtained from Koch Oil Sands Operating. Shortly after, Fort McKay First Nation and Fort McKay Métis Community Association appealed the decision to grant the well licences, contending that further exploration activities should be halted until a land-use management plan was in place.

The Alberta Energy Regulator gave the company the go-ahead to continue exploratory drilling in November 2014. But only a few months later, then-premier Jim Prentice signed a letter of intent with Boucher to establish the Moose Lake Access Management Plan under the Lower Athabasca Regional Plan (LARP) in 2016.

“When Chief Boucher asked for our support to protect the small parcel of land near Moose Lake for his community, I didn’t hesitate to say yes,” Prentice said in a government press release.

The Alberta NDP was elected only two months later. The plan still hasn’t been released. In April 2016, then-minister of Indigenous relations Richard Feehan said “we’re still fully behind it and we’re moving ahead quite well on it.”

There are 42 recommendations in the still-unreleased access management plan.

Boucher said the government agrees with all but two, which both relate to the strict regulation of industrial development within a 10 kilometre buffer zone around Moose Lake. That would mean things like carefully coordinating roads and other linear disturbances to help protect caribou and other wildlife. A central processing facility, used for steam generation and production, wouldn’t be allowed within the radius.

Fort McKay First Nation also delayed Brion Energy’s Dover project by requiring a 20 kilometre buffer around Moose Lake. It eventually authorized the project in 2014 after certain restrictions on wellpads and industrial plants were agreed upon (the details are confidential).

But Prosper Petroleum intends to develop within four kilometres of the reserve. As reported by CBC News, the company’s vice-president of stakeholder affairs said during the regulatory hearings that requiring the company to move operations farther from the area would “result in unprecedented and undue hardship to Prosper in terms of additional costs.”

First Nation forced to take legal action

In an e-mail, Fort McKay First Nation executive director Jauvonne Kitto said that “Alberta has expressed concerns about managing the risk of proponents asserting financial losses arising from development management measures being proposed.”

Boucher said that as a result of the absence of a plan, the energy regulator won’t deal with Aboriginal treaty rights issues or Indigenous land-use management at all when deliberating on whether to approve the project.

“Their mandate is to consider the application and then come to a decision based on what they perceive to be in the best interest of Alberta,” he said.

This leaves only one option to Fort McKay: battling it out in the courts.

The First Nation first launched a lawsuit against the government over this issue in April 2016. Kitto said the litigation is ongoing and scheduled to return to court upon the conclusion of the regulatory hearing process.

Land use plans ‘only way reconciliation can be expressed on land’

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

In an interview with DeSmog Canada, Valérie Courtois — director of Indigenous Leadership Initiative, an organization that advocates for Indigenous-led land management and the Indigenous Guardian Program — said there are some leading planning examples in the Northwest Territories, such as the Dehcho First Nations and Deline Got’ine Government.

Courtois noted the recent Supreme Court of Canada decision on the Peel watershed is a reminder to Crown governments that there’s a need for “honour” and “collaborative approaches” if the goal is good management, whether for development or conservation.

“I really see that these land-use plans and tools are the only way that reconciliation can be expressed on the land,” she said.

If the Fort McKay situation is any indicator, it may be some time before that is seen in northern Alberta.

The Alberta Energy Regulator will release its decision within three months. Prosper Petroleum plans to start production in 2020.

“The likelihood that the AER will deny Prosper permission to carry on with the Rigel Project based on objections from Indigenous communities seems, unfortunately, very low,” concluded a recent analysis by University of Calgary faculty of law research assistant Amy Matychuk.

But Fort McKay isn’t going down without a fight.

“We continue to hope that in any eventuality that Moose Lake will be protected, that we have a refuge,” Boucher said.

“We’ve lost 70 per cent of our land to the oilsands developers so far. We’d like to maintain a little piece of land so our people can continue to hunt, trap and fish and exercise our treaty rights on the lands we have available to us.”

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Organizers of the Tar Sands Healing Walk, a 14-kilometre spiritual walk through lands impacted by oilsands (also called tar sands) extraction in northern Alberta, have announced this year’s Healing Walk on June 28th will be the last.

“It was a difficult decision to make,” admits Jesse Cardinal, co-organizer of the Healing Walk. “We felt the original goals of the healing walk of letting local communities know that they had support for the issues of mass industry in the territory and gaining further attention of the issues of tar sands development in a way that was non-aggressive were achieved.”

“Our work will continue in the territory, with the people and communities, but, will look different, so I wouldn’t really call it an end, as a new beginning,” Cardinal told DeSmog Canada. Cardinal is a member of the Kikino Metis Settlement in northeastern Alberta.

The Healing Walk is the only grassroots event to bring people face to face with Canada’s oilsands, one of the largest oil reserves and industrial projects in the world. Participants in the annual event walk through the industrialized landscape, passing by active oilsands facilities releasing toxins into the air, chemical tailings ponds the size of lakes and a barren land in an otherwise lush and green region of Alberta's boreal forest.

But all this is secondary to the Healing Walk’s core theme: hope that the land, water and people drastically impacted by two decades of rapid oilsands extraction will one day heal.

Healing Walk is Not a Protest or a Rally

“We're not going out there for yet another protest, yet another rally. We're out there to be together, to heal, and those two things are very appealing in a context of seemingly endless struggle,” says Chelsea Flook, a Healing Walk organizer since 2010.

“[For participants] the focus on the space being primarily a healing space is a very strong draw,” Flook told DeSmog. Flook is originally from Ontario, but she is currently based in Edmonton and works for the Mother Earth Action Cooperative.

Organizers have been clear from the beginning that the Healing Walk is not a protest. No one shouts out political chants during the walk that takes place just north of Canada’s famous oil town, Fort McMurray. The only banner present is the one leading the procession with the words “Stop the Destruction. Start the Healing” painted on it.

Healing Walk procession in 2013. Photo by Zack Embree.

Instead, participants are led by First Nations elders along the so-called ‘Syncrude Loop’ (oilsands company Syncrude has an operation nearby) as they pray and make offerings in the four directions: north, south, east and west. To complete the loop on foot takes about six hours.

“Making prayers to the four directions woke up the spirit of the land, the water and the people. It has awoken a creative force within the people that will suffocate the destructive force that is the tar sands. That is a pretty powerful warrior to deal with,” says Clayton Thomas-Muller, MC of this year’s Healing Walk and Idle No More campaigner.

Clayton Thomas-Muller with Eriel Deranger of the Athabasca Chipewyan First Nation (left) and Melina Laboucan-Massimo of the Lubicon Cree Nation (right). Photo by Zack Embree.

The Healing Walk is a 3-Day Gathering: Workshops, Communal Meals, Camping

The two days prior to the actual walk have the outward appearance of festival. Tents cluster together (camping is free for participants) in a field on the shores of Lake Gregoire, also called Willow Lake. Communal meals and workshops covering a wide range of oilsands-related issues, from First Nations treaty rights to pipelines, take place at the campsite — an hour’s drive from the starting point of the Healing Walk at Crane Lake Park.

“You come as an individual but you leave as part of the whole which is part of the beauty of the Healing Walk,” says Thomas-Mueller, who is a member of the Missinipi Ethinewak or Big River Cree in Manitoba.

A participant of last year's Healing Walk. Photo by Zack Embree.

“This year, we are focusing mainly on local voices. Some of the people we have speaking, have never been heard of before, but are concerned about what is happening in the Fort McMurray indigenous territory. So more going back to being a grassroots event,” Cardinal says.

Local indigenous voices will include Matthew Whitehead, a traditional knowledge carrier from Fort Chipewyan, Annette Campre and a resident of Fort McKay, who will lead workshops on education and spirituality. The physician who first noticed and researched high rates of cancer among Athabasca Chipewyan First Nation members – Dr. John O’Connor –will speak as part of a health panel.

Last year’s Healing Walk attracted well over 500 people, the largest turnout thus far. Internationally known speakers such as 350.org founder Bill McKibben and author Naomi Klein were among them.

Naomi Klein speaking at last year's Healing Walk event. Photo by Zack Embree.

“At last year’s walk, I saw a fundamental shift in energy that let me know we have already won,” Thomas-Muller told DeSmog Canada.

Will the land ever heal? Organizers are optimistic

For many a ‘win’ for First Nations as well as non-indigenous Canadians over the oilsands industry is hard to see. Despite a few pipeline project delays – notably Keystone XL in the U.S. and Northern Gateway in B.C. – the oilsands industry has expanded rapidly and relatively unimpeded under the current federal government.

And yet Healing Walk organizers believe one day the land they have guided hundreds of people through over the last four years will heal.

“I do believe so, but not in my lifetime," Cardinal says. "The destruction is too big. But way down the road when our existence here is different, and more people have demanded an energy future that isn't destructive to the land, air, water and all living beings will we achieve harmony." Cardinal is a coordinator with the Keepers of the Athabasca, the main organizing group behind the Healing Walk.

A sign designates an industrial area under restoration. Photo by Zack Embree.

“It will take a couple of lifetimes for the land to recover, but a metamorphosis will take place and create new life. Indigenous people will be a part of this and those who do not follow their lead will be left behind. The circle of life will continue,” Thomas-Muller says.

Healing Walk organizer Chelsea Flook, who is not indigenous, believes the only way to get there and avoid the catastrophic effects of runaway climate change at the same time is to follow the lead of indigenous peoples.

“We need to take direction from indigenous communities, to honour their ways of knowing and being. It might mean some awkward dancing between worldviews, it might entail some moments of discomfort,” she says.

“But by supporting Indigenous communities' struggle to protect the land [in the oilsands], we can also fight back against the 'business as usual' plans of industry that entail a six-degree climate warming scenario,” Flook said.

Image Credit: All photos by Zack Embree.

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The impending closure of a key multi-stakeholder group that provides advice to Alberta and the federal government on the environmental effects of the oilsands was unexpectedly delayed by an injection of money from oil companies.

The funds come at a time when the future – and the purpose – of the organization, which involves the participation of aboriginal, industry, government and environmental groups, is increasingly uncertain. 

The Edmonton Journal reports that the 12-year-old Cumulative Environmental Management Association (CEMA) was to be shut down on January 1, which would have resulted in layoffs, eviction from their offices, and the termination of contracts with scientists working on issues ranging from speedier land reclamation in the oilsands to the improvement of water quality.

However, oil company stakeholders provided $400,000 to keep the organization funded for a little while longer.

"It is for the first month of 2014 only," CEMA spokesman Corey Hobbs told Fort McMurray Today.

CEMA's uncertain future depends on Alberta's newly appointed Environment Minister Robin Campbell, who can resist pressure from the energy industry to have the organization shut down.

"We are optimistic that Minister Campbell will make a positive decision for the future of CEMA," said Hobbs. "There is no indication from anyone that the province does not support CEMA's research or work in the oilsands."

Managing Impacts

According to Andrew Read, Technical and Policy Analyst with the Pembina Institute, CEMA’s role is to “produce recommendations and provide management frameworks” regarding the cumulative impacts of the oilsands. The group consists of more than 50 members ranging from First Nations and Metis groups, environmental advocacy organizations and industry.

CEMA’s recommendations are based on the monitoring work of other environmental agencies.

According to Read, environmental monitoring agencies and CEMA provide complementary work: “monitoring agencies watch what’s happening in the environment and CEMA develops plans on how we can manage the resultant effects of industry to maintain environmental quality.”

The Pembina Institute withdrew from CEMA in 2008 citing numerous shortcomings with the multi-stakeholder framework, including a continued failure to adequately address environmental concerns.

CEMA has been struggling since 2012, when the Oil Sands Developers Group cut the organization's 2013 budget to $2.5 million for the first six months, down from $5 million the previous year. Then-environment minister Diana McQueen restored the group's funding and ordered a review of its future.

The province’s review, submitted in August 2013, showed industry wanted CEMA shut down. Renewed funding for the organization was refused. In September, industry members called for CEMA to be disbanded and its policy development job shifted to an industry-only group.

"We're very close to losing CEMA," said CEMA executive director Glen Semenchuck. "We've been waiting for five months for the minister to respond. Is CEMA going to survive? I don't know."

An Industry Imbalance?

Helene Walsh, Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society representative to CEMA, says the cuts in industry funding are the result of an increase in non-industry stakeholder input.

“CEMA was largely industry dominated until the organization was restructured a few years ago with the four different chambers [aboriginal, environmental, industry and government] given equal voting power. Soon after that industry started reducing their funding and now they want CEMA to stop its work,” she said.

With CEMA shuttered, it would be difficult to know how non-industry groups, like First Nations, could contribute to cumulative impacts management, says Read.

“Without CEMA, there is a significant vacuum of expertise in the management of cumulative effects in Alberta that balances the needs of all of the stakeholders in the oilsands region. If it were to cease to exist, there would be a significant need for increased government and industry engagement with stakeholders to identify and address the various cumulative effects resulting from oilsands development.”

CEMA was founded in 2001 by former Premier Ralph Klein with the mandate of addressing the oil industry's environmental footprint. It is the only scientific agency that does government policy work by engaging all local stakeholders for consensus decisions.

Moving Ahead, But in the Wrong Direction

Alberta recently established the Alberta Environmental Monitoring, Evaluation and Reporting Agency (AEMERA) intended to harmonize and ensure the credibility of environmental monitoring across the province.

Read said the Pembina Institute is “watching the establishment of AEMERA carefully as it will dictate the credibility of environmental information that is reported by the agency.”

“We are concerned about the substantial powers being granted to the AEMERA board which is appointed by the government and does not require equal or fair representation of all stakeholders. Ultimately without fair and equal representation on the board, AEMERA may suffer from the same credibility issues as past agencies have,” Read said.

In the last year, CEMA released a detailed guidance document on end-pit lakes, and hopes to release a wetland reclamation policy guide and a framework to help industry and government understand Aboriginal traditional knowledge, in 2014.

With no budget for 2014, scientific projects are currently frozen.

Alberta also faces the possible closure of the Wood Buffalo Environmental Agency (WBEA), which monitors air pollution in the oilsands area and is currently running on emergency funds.

“If CEMA were strengthened and aboriginal and environmental groups were truly able to influence the development of the tar sands there would be hope for positive change and improved management that could improve the prospects for healthy water, air, land, wildlife, people and communities,” says Walsh, who also works with Keepers of the Athabasca.

“Closure of CEMA is a step in the wrong direction.”

Image Credit: Kris Krug

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