Mountain/Woodland CaribouBy Shirley Truscott, Heritage Communications, Banff National Park.
Like most people, I didn't know much about mountain caribou then. I knew it was a migratory variety of woodland caribou, related to the woodland caribou that once ranged throughout much of southern Canada, from the Maritimes to B.C. I knew it made seasonal migrations of some distance, though nothing like the great distances travelled by the tundra caribou of the North, or the George River herd of Quebec and Labrador. I sensed that it was an animal that needed solitude and space, as it travelled from old-growth valley forests to alpine tundra, to and from traditional calving, rutting, and wintering grounds. Just to see one of these animals, in this remote place, was a very special privilege. Biologists who have studied caribou speak of their elusive qualities, their penchant for remote areas. These things have made them difficult to study. Despite studies by provincial wildlife biologists, the Canadian Wildlife Service, and the World Wildlife Fund, Parks Canada, there is still a lot we don't know about these "grey ghosts of the wilderness."What we do know is that there aren't a lot of them. In fact, drastic declines in their numbers have alarmed provincial and park wildlife officials for a very long time. In the early 1980's Alberta Fish and Wildlife biologist M. Bloomfield noted that caribou numbers in the mountains and foothills north of Jasper National Park had plummeted a startling 50% between 1966 and 1981, while provincial numbers dropped from 7000 - 9000 in the mid-60's to 2000 - 3000 in the 80's. Alarmed by these findings, Bloomfield urged the Alberta government to classify woodland caribou as a threatened species, and to take measures to protect them. He emphasized the importance of protecting caribou habitat. He explained that caribou survival depended on mature and overmature forests - forests which provided lichen for food in winter, sheltered migration routes, and calving areas. And he insisted that without protection of a large, flexible home range and traditional calving, rutting, and wintering sites, Alberta's caribou faced a precarious future. The threats to caribou outside national parks and protected wilderness areas are ominous - an explosion in extractive industries like coal mining, oil and gas exploration, and intensive logging which favours the growth of young forests. And more roads and seismic lines mean easier access to hunters, recreationists and wolves. Since Grande Cache was built in the 60's, there are a lot more people in these remote areas now. Then, too there is Highway 40, slicing through a major migration route. In 1985, the Alberta government declared caribou to be a threatened species. This means, that if pressure from human activities and natural causes continues, caribou could easily become endangered. I return to thinking about the mountain caribou that range in Jasper and Banff, adjacent provincial wilderness, and unprotected lands in B.C. and Alberta. Their numbers are extremely modest now - 200-300 in 4 herds in Jasper, and less than 25 in a single isolated herd in the most remote corner of Banff. One of the most vulnerable of the national park herds ranges north, through the Willmore Wilderness and beyond, into those lands threatened by more and more industrial development. Is anything being done to make sure these animals have a future?
Fatal AttractionLike bighorn sheep, porcupines, and people, caribou are crazy for salt. It lures them to the roads - to the Icefields Parkway, the Maligne Lake Road, and to a winding, hilly stretch of Highway 40 between Hinton and Grande Cache. To the 100 - 150 caribou that migrate between the high country of Jasper National Park and forested valleys outside the park, Highway 40 must be as close to nirvana as you can get - one giant, mouth-watering salt lick. It's an irresistible temptation, well worth a prolonged visit en route to traditional winter range. According to Alberta Fish & Wildlife biologist Jan Edmonds, Highway 40 was paved ten years ago, but it's only during the last four that caribou have riveted their attention on it. During the 3 - 6 week period of winter migration, 90% of Jasper's northern caribou herd clusters by or on the road. Cows have schooled their calves, and a hazardous new tradition has established itself. Groups of from 5 - 15 animals feast on the unfenced shoulders or guzzle salt in the middle of the road, oblivious to the danger of speeding cars, logging and chip trucks. During one very bad winter, vehicles mowed down 17 caribou - sometimes two at once. When you've got bad winter weather, poor visibility, generous doses of road salt and a large gathering of caribou, a careless driver travelling at high speed can be lethal. And in this area of new and growing resource development - in mining, logging, oil and gas exploration - the problem could easily get worse. What's at stake is the very survival of this small mountain caribou population, already burdened by a low reproductive rate, a high rate of predation, and the intrusion of resource development into traditional caribou range. "This population simply can't sustain continued high levels of natural and human mortality", explains Jan Edmonds.She's working very hard to change things. The key is public education. She's making sure that the caribou message gets out to people who travel that 30 km. stretch of Highway 40, now called the CARIBOU CONNECTION. Large caribou cutouts now warn motorists to slow down and watch for caribou. Posters, messages on local radio, articles in local papers, faxes to companies and government agencies all help to spread the word. There's a lot of effort spent on gaining the co-operation of local trucking companies. "The trucks aren't the major problem, though" she says. "Truckers know where the animals will be, watch for them, and relay messages back and forth over the radio. The real problem is to reach the average motorist, trying to get to Grande Cache at top speed."Educating people about the caribou doesn't stop with the public and industry. Jan knows how important it is for the provincial government to "clean up our own act first". So there's lots of discussion with other government departments - like Alberta Transportation. "We need to get the speed limit down from 90 km." she says. Lowering it to 70 km. for a specific time period - the crucial 6 week period of winter migration - would help a lot. Particularly important, she adds would be, the hours around dawn and dusk. Enforcement would be crucial.And what about fencing, underpasses, and 1-way gates like we have here on the twinned portion of the TCH? "We've looked into it, but the cost would be prohibitive." Highway 40 is built through muskeg - ideal feeding ground for caribou, but extremely tough to fence. Jan feels that it might be possible to fence problem areas, but worries that this could funnel the caribou into unfenced parts of the highway, creating new killing zones. Then there is the problem of all that addictive salt, dumped in copious amounts during severe winter weather. "We're looking into deterrents to add to the salt", she says, "but we can't seem to find a product in powder form. Most of what's available comes as sprays for orchards.""We need to get the animals off that salt" Jan insists. It's with some new hope that she looks forward to the results of a new experiment. The magic ingredient is wolf urine - in synthetic capsule form, attached to stakes on either side of the road. The capsules, once snapped, release an unmistakable aroma that will, hopefully, send frightened caribou bolting away from an imaginary pack of predators in quickly across the salt-laced highway. Developed in Sweden, the chemical has been successful with moose. Sweden has few wolves, Jan explains, so Swedish moose are less used to encountering wolves than are Canadian caribou. So nobody knows yet if the wolf urine will spook caribou enough to really scare them off. So the experiments continue to find some environmentally sensitive way to make that salt less delectable, and cure that fatal attraction.
Now how do you get 28 people - representing many different interests and points of view - to unanimously agree on something? Just to have them sit down politely together at the same table must be a mammoth feat in itself. Since November 1993, the Alberta Woodland Caribou Conservation Strategy Development Committee has been trying to do just that. The problem is the precarious state of Alberta's woodland caribou, faced with high natural mortality and ever-increasing pressure from human activities. How can we ensure that these threatened populations will survive and remain healthy for many generations to come? And how can we make sure that their extensive range will be protected? Ray Makowecki, Policy and Program Co-ordinator for Alberta Fish and Wildlife, chairs the committee. Participants are all "stakeholders" in the caribou question, as rich and varied a group as you'll find anywhere. They include representatives from the burgeoning industries of Northern Alberta, native groups, government agencies, environmental organizations. Representatives from Daishowa and Alberta Pacific, from Chevron and Nova Corp come face to face with members of the Grand Council of Treaty 8, Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society and the Western Canada Wilderness Committee. All five forest industry companies - a heavy presence in caribou country - share the table with oil and gas concerns, the peat moss industry, the Trappers Association. Then there is the government - representatives from Alberta Energy, three regions of Lands and Forests, the Forest Management Division, and Fish and Wildlife Services Division of Environmental Protection. And our Parks Canada representative, Jasper Warden Nora Manners. Nora explains that the Committee's aim is to come up with a plan for the long-term management of Alberta's caribou populations. Decisions will be made at the community level, since the caribou will be "managed on a herd basis." The committee first pondered the question of obstacles: just why don't we have healthy populations of caribou? Members have come up with a list of issues: lack of good information about the animals, habitat supply, management of access, and predator management. The really sticky questions, according to Nora, are about logging and predator control - in other words, to kill or not to kill wolves. Most caribou winter range is destined for intensive logging within the next 20 - 30 years. If this goes ahead, how can the large tracts of traditional habitat - including old growth forests so essential to caribou survival - be preserved? Logging means more roads, easier access to hunters and recreationists, greater problems of poaching, harassment of caribou, disturbance. Can logging practices be so improved that these issues are solved? Nora has other concerns. While Parks Canada is very much interested in the survival of its small caribou herds in Banff and Jasper National Parks, the idea of manipulating things for the sake of a single animal conflicts with Parks policy of protecting the entire ecosystem and all its components. There is, for example, the question of fire in the Parks. Caribou need old growth forests for food and shelter. Now if a natural fire ravaged old growth forest stands, say, in a remote wilderness corner of the Parks where caribou range, would we put it out for the caribou's sake, or let nature take its course? And on the predator question, do we continue to encourage the growth of wolf populations or dare to re-consider that hottest of hot issues - some kind of control? When I talked to Committee Chairman Ray Makewicki, he confirmed that the committee was indeed stuck on the issue of predator control. Gaining unanimous agreement on this and other issues could well be a long and painful process. While sitting down at the table with all the "stakeholders" in caribou country is a progressive and even heroic act, you have to wonder if the province's caribou have time to wait!
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It was the kind of day when you crave snow - snow to taste, to touch,
to soak your sun-scorched, bug-bitten hide in. There was snow, too,
a long tongue of it, where we'd kicked steps up from the valley bottom.
The trouble was, somebody else was already there, savouring the icy
plunge at the top of the pass. We'd followed its crescent-shaped tracks
all the way up, and now we caught its silhouette - the delicate muzzle,
the graceful sweep of antler over the forehead. A solitary bull caribou
sprawled in the snowpatch, looking out over the wild world below. We
left the snow and made a wide berth around and below him. With thick
hair on body, muzzle, and tail, he must have felt the heat even more
than we did. He was, after all, a northern animal at the southern limit
of his range. And he was truly a wilderness animal, enjoying his solitude
here on this lofty saddle straddling the boundary of national park and
provincial wilderness. As we watched from upwind at a respectful distance,
he laid his muzzle down and began to eat snow. He looked comical, yet
comfortable and at home there, while the surrounding rocks sizzled with
heat and crackled with horseflies. 
