Oral history

Louis Boucher (1974)

Yes, it [the system controlling land use] has changed a lot. At first there were none, but now they have enforced many regulations. Whenever some white man comes here, a new regulation is in effect. It is a big change since I came here at first up to now.

Alec Bruno (2015)

On wolf culling

I never hunt, I never trap wolf. I killed two, all the years that I trapped. I caught one in a lynx snare, and I caught up to him [after he ran]. He hung; he wrapped the wire around the tree. I wanted to cut that wire but they wouldn’t let me come close, so I had to shoot him. Twice I had to shoot a wolf like that to kill, cause, you know, I couldn’t . . . because my dad always told me that wolves are very, very smart animals, very wise, they are just like humans. They have the strength to kill a moose or anything to eat, just like humans, he says. We go hunting and we don’t give up until we kill caribou to take meat home. Men and wolves are almost equal. They don’t live together but what they do out on the land is pretty well the same thing. 

Well the old timers used to tell us the animals, wolves, caribous, moose, same thing. They’re all just like humans because they all share. Wolves have to kill caribou to eat and many times you heard these stories. Any time a wolf kills an animal, a moose or caribou or bison, they usually get after the old and the sick. They know. The reason for that is, for them, killing the sick and the old is to maintain a good stock. Leave the young ones alone. It’s their way of maintaining a good health, stock, herd together, you know, by killing the old and the sick. I watched, I seen a documentary on wolves that Parks Canada did a couple years ago, and they were with this pack of wolves for about a week. They watched everything they do. They kill, they were trying to, they killed one bison. He was an old one. They waited, they got him out of the herd to kill him and then they went hunting again and these guys [film crew] were in a chopper, and they said all of a sudden they were following this herd of buffalos and all of a sudden they stopped. There was only about four wolves, four or five wolves. They stopped, they turned around and took off, they started running. Now these guys didn’t understand why they done that. Bison were just ahead hey? So, they followed these buffalo, these wolves. They never stopped, they just ran and ran and ran and ran. They ran about 30 km, 37 km is the way they put it. They went into the bush and they came about a dead buffalo. He just died. Just fresh. That bison just died, maybe sick or something, I don’t know. How did the wolves know this 37 km away? You’ll see that sometimes when you watch shows about animals, wolves, how they hunt. I think it’s done here in this area, I think around Lake Claire somewhere. How did they know this bison was dying 37 km away? They ran 37 km to just find this bison just freshly died. So, with all these things that happen, you have to think about it, it makes you think, why do animals do these things? Their ways pretty much tell you that wolves think like a man. That’s what my dad you used to say. My dad was the one who used to say, don’t ever trap wolves if you can, because wolves and man pretty well think alike. They strike—you strike as a hunter or a trapper to get what you want, and wolves are the same thing. 

On traplines and harvesting restrictions

There was no traplines before the Alberta government got involved. People went wherever they wanted to go. There was an open land out there. You’d take your family and go wherever you want and that’s how you’d trap. And then after government got involved, then they start issuing traplines. Back in Richardson country, your trapline, the only rights you’d have to that thing is to trap and hunt, nothing else. There’s a fine for trapping [outside the trapline or trapping season]. It started in November, and it ends February, so you only got about four months to do that, and then you come back to the Delta and trap muskrats for another two months, so you’re trapping six months out of a year. That’s what Western science, law, did to the people when they started giving them traplines. These traplines, you’d give it to Rene [Bruno] or whoever, you got to go out there every year. Harvest that land and if you miss one or two years, they’ll take it away from you and give it to someone else . . . Like I said, the way I believe, is when the trapline [system] was issued, government knew that one day down the road this trapping thing would be [lucrative]. There is still a lot of fur out there, but there was no price so people quit going; but they still claim their trapline, but they don’t go out. What Alberta government is doing now is bringing in sports fishing, bear baiting, stuff like that on the same trapline [where trappers no longer go] that we’d get into trouble [for doing], and they’re getting away with it, making money from it and these guys [the trappers] are make nothing out of it. 

Jimmy Deranger (25 March 2021)

Some Dene people were killing the buffalos like when they left the Park, right? And then some of them were charged for that. They spent time in jail I think for that. Because they killed the buffalos that were not even in the Park. “The buffalos,” they were saying, “it was ours anyways to begin with.” But still they charged them, right? With the regulations that they used in Wood Buffalo Park.

Yeah. And they said that the rules had to be followed. There were these rules; [if] they were going to change those rules, why didn’t they come and tell us that they were going to do it? Why didn’t they sit down with us and say, “we’re going to do this: what do you think? What do you think?” That didn’t happen. They just made the rules.

I remember once this thing that happened to me. Magloire Vermilion and Basil Vermilion [Dene Elders who are members of MCFN because of the membership transfer] were in the Parks. You know, even though they were Dene, they were recognized [by the government] as Cree. And I was coming back from Edmonton in January, and they were going back to Fort Chip. And they had cut wood for their homes in Fort Chip. And I was passing by when they were cutting wood. And they said, “why don’t you come and get this wood for us and bring it into Fort Chip.” I said, “okay, as soon as I drive and take my stuff off the truck, I’ll come back.” It’s only about a forty-minute drive, maybe less than that. So I did, took my stuff back and then I came back and got it, their wood, and then I loaded all their wood into my truck and I drove out. And then drove in the bush across the river and there was a snye [a side channel]—this snye usually freezes right to the ground. Because it’s not very much water, there’s only about three feet of water.

And when I was there, I guess somehow they [wardens] heard that the Natives were cutting wood over there, bringing it to Fort Chip. They said they assumed it was for sale. I saw them and I went barreling past them, I wasn’t going very fast, but it seems like you’re going fast when the snow is flying, right? And when you have a load and then it sort of blows up more snow and I went past them, and they passed me. And then I drove it all the way to Basil’s house, unloaded, and as I was going back to my house, I stopped there and they stopped behind my truck, and they’re looking inside my truck and they saw woodchips. They asked me, “where’d you get that from?” I said this, “Basil told me to bring his wood in, so I brought it in.”

“Oh, we have to charge you, we have to take your truck,” they said. And then they went over to Basil’s house and took the wood. And then, that pissed me off. And I went back and then they charged me. Said they were going to hold my truck. But I went to Calgary and then I went to see a lawyer that was working for the Indian Association, TARR—Bob Young—and I told him. He says, “I’ll make a phone call for you,” he said. So, he made a phone call and he said, “you can go get your truck now,” he said, “they are in Fort Chip.” And then they [wardens] turn around, they said they was trying to say it was my wood, [even though] it wasn’t even my wood. They were looking for evidence. But they charged me ten dollars, they fined me ten dollars. So now, that was just in the ’70s, so that means that whatever happened with the First Nations People, in their activities on the land at Wood Buffalo, they were probably charged for something that was ridiculous, like the one that they tried to charge me with.

Garry Flett (6 December 2020)

GF: I mean, it was common back then for a lot of the—I shouldn’t say just Aboriginal People—people in general that harvested a bird in the Park or that were caught doing that sort of thing, or even picking a flower, got you into some crap with the Park. I don’t know all the personal details into it, but I know growing up, it was common to hear about the court dockets of people that were fined for doing those things. So, it was not uncommon. 

The only other interaction that I had with a warden that was negative was the one time when my oldest child was born, and my wife was in the vehicle with me. We were coming back from Fort Chip to Fort Smith, and we got stopped by a park warden, and it was cold—it was really cold. And my son was, I would say three weeks to a month old then. He was born in December, so it was in January sometime. But I’ll never forget the cop’s name, the warden’s name either.

He stopped me and he said, “everybody out of the car.”

And I said, “No. Sorry. I’ll get out for you. What are you looking for?”

And he said, “I heard that you have buffalo meat in the vehicle?” I said, “I have none.” He said, “Everybody out of the car.” And I said, “No I’ll get out, but I have a baby in there and a wife and they’re not getting up.”

And things escalated from there. He said, he accused me of being deaf. That I didn’t hear him properly. And I accused him of being deaf because he didn’t hear me. And he went to put his hand on me to move me out of the road. And I pushed him back. And there was another warden there. He came and got in between and de-escalated the situation.

But my expectation after that was that I would be stopped by the RCMP as I got into the community and questioned over this incident, because I did push him out of the road. When he meant to move me, I shoved him. Just the wrong thing to do, but it was just the heat of the moment. But you know, nothing ever transpired out of that. Nothing. The cops didn’t come and see me. Never heard any more from it.

And I thought it just was nothing, it just went to bed, other than a fella came to me a week later and said, “I heard this happened,” and he described a situation. And I said, “Yeah, it did.” And all he said was “congratulations, the little bastard needed that,” he said. “Oh okay.” And that was it, and I never heard a thing again about it. I expected that I would be trying to explain myself in the court of law too.

ST: You never had to? And they never searched your vehicle in the end?

GF: No, no. I had nothing to hide anyway. But no, they didn’t search it. Because I told him, they had the truck that was plugging off the highway. It was only a narrow little winter road sort of thing to the Park, and they had the highway closed off with their truck. By then my temper was flared, and I said, “get your truck off the road or I’ll push it off the road.” Anyway, they moved the truck and I was gone. . . . Yeah. Well, the good old days. They were, I don’t know if they were empowered or just thought that they were empowered with the same powers that the RCMP had. But they did—they were bullies out there. I can’t think of another word, another term for them other than they threw their weight around quite well.

[These types of incidents] are undocumented for sure. I mean, it would be self-incriminating if they put some of this stuff in there, right? At the end of the day, they’re just as human as you and I are, and there’s some of them that took advantage of the positions that they were put into and used that to bully their way through the system. And for me, we were ACFN. I didn’t belong there.

Scott Flett (17 March 2021)

Back in the day, the priests and the game warden, and RCMP, boy, they had lots of power. Like they can do whatever they want, eh? People were kind of scared of them back in the day . . . I remember my Grandpa said he used to hide and stuff. He had to hide. If the park warden was coming along and they [the people] want to eat. If you want to—even the beavers, [there] were only so many beavers you could get per harvest, and ducks are out of season, you’re not supposed to hunt ducks out of season. Oh my God, there’s just, it’s really bad.

I think there’s some people who went to jail or something. I mean, they got a fine and stuff for breaking the rules or breaking the regulations. I heard a story. I think there’s some people that were hiding ducks and stuff and then you know, there was a story about these guys, had some ducks or something, and the Park warden came with his dog, and they hid the ducks, but the dog went, sniffed out the ducks or something. I don’t know if they got a warning or a fine.

On bison slaughters

They had a great big laboratory [in the Park], I think they called it. One at Sweetgrass and one at Hay Camp where they had these big corrals and stuff, they used to bring in the buffalo, and they used to check them out for brucellosis and TB and stuff. And then even one time back, what year was that? That was September because school was—it was maybe ’73 or something . . . they’d go pick up a truck, and they drove to Sweetgrass, and they brought a whole bunch of buffalo meat into town and they gave people buffalo meat.

Yeah, and they give not just rations like I said. I think it’s only a one-time deal, but they’re trying to sell buffalo meat down, down south, eh? They’re trying to sell the beef to stores and stuff. And they had this big operation on Sweetgrass and, like I said, corrals all over, and then I think even one time they used to use these old Bell helicopters and just herd them by helicopter, and then they had to stop that because there were some buffalo breaking their legs or something. It was kind of cruelty, so they had to quit that process.

Fred (Jumbo) Fraser (12 March 2021)

FF: I think I heard them [local Elders] say anytime they’d kill moose they used to keep the moose bone. Because you never know when them rangers would come around, eh. So, they kept that. And then the rangers I heard were really bad. They’d go and check where the dogs are tied up and everything and look for bones. That’s what I heard, anyway.

ST: So they would keep the moose bones so that the ranger didn’t know about the buffalo. Is that what you mean?

FF: Yeah. If there was moose bones, but there was no buffalo bones, I guess there’s a difference. They were bad rangers. . . . In my mind, too, I think they were pretty—how do you say it? Like, they always wanted to catch somebody. Yeah, I don’t think they were good.

ST: What kinds of things did they do to the people who lived there?

FF: Oh, they’re coming, nosing around, I guess. You know, look for something wrong. Always looking for dirt, I guess.

ST: What happens if they catch you?

FF: I don’t know, you go to court, go to jail probably.

Leslie Laviolette (22 March 2021)

So [the relationship with Park wardens] was just like watching the movies, like cowboys and Indians. We used to hide. We’d see the cowboy ride by in a big jet boat, and us, we’d come out in the canoe, and we’d paddle away from them. You know, it was playing, well sort of playing with the law, I guess. Because they always seemed to get some guy and so we’d just go that extra mile not to get caught. But yet I don’t know why we had to run like that and be scared of that. We never had to before.

And this is what my parents and my grandpa [Jonas Laviolette] and all these guys argued about that we’re here now, second generation, third generation. I see all these changes that—what my grandfather and the other chiefs like Uncle Fred [Marcel] and all them seen before that, but [the Park officials] never listened. And then when the Park came, well the Park was the sheriff, he had the badge, and he did what he wanted. Cause when you [the wardens] have a badge, well you got to listen to them. They’re not gonna listen to me. I don’t have no badge, I’m just a trapper and that’s it, cause I’m just a number.

Pat Marcel (2013)

On wolf culling

What we’re talking about now, when the federal government came down, and said the only way we can conserve the caribou and the bison is to corral them and put them in a fenced area. But the people were very upset about that. Their [the government’s] next move was to cull all the wolves that were preying on the caribou, because then there would be less predation by the wolf pack. But the Elders said that by culling the wolves, the caribou are now susceptible for diseases, because there is no keeping the herd strong by culling the wolves. A caribou can outrun a wolf, unless they are old and sick or young. The herd is kept to a certain state so that the caribou will never eat themselves out of a home. The herd stays in the set numbers.

This is what we understood, and the white men could not understand. They culled wolves, in the past, mostly in Saskatchewan, in N22.⁶¹ And the trappers would be reporting that they would be cutting open caribou, and they would be affected by it [by the poison used to cull wolves]. The wolves and even the ravens [who] would eat of that poisoned caribou carcass, would be dead [from Strychnine poison].

An old trapper told me that he killed a moose and put the poison into a caribou carcass, and he got twenty-seven wolves. This was happening in the Parks. A lot of terrible things were done, without thought of what will happen if we [the government] did this. No consultation with First Nations Elders. The government would just announce that, “this year we are going to cull wolves,” and poison would be used. The government didn’t think how this would be bad for the trappers and the wolves. Poison doesn’t discriminate. And it kills whatever it touches.

Keltie Paul (25 November 2020)

I’m going to tell you a story. I had to change my shirt because I got strawberry jam all over it. So, I went into my bedroom, and I could hear this low-grade humming sound. And I took off my shirt and I put on another shirt. And then I turned around and, my cabin was right on the river, the curtains were open, and these damn men were in a helicopter right outside my window watching me change. And pointing at me and laughing. They were that close. So, they lowered their helicopter and then I went outside because I was really mad, and I started shaking my fist at them, so they moved off to the next cabin. And here they are with their little binoculars, and everything and they’re looking into people’s houses. Peeping Tom. And that was just an intimidation tactic. And they would, you know, they just insisted on doing things that would harass people. Would make people feel less than. Would make people feel that they were not being listened to. Because they would say, “well you don’t belong here,” and yet they knew they belonged there. They knew their Ancestors were from there. But these guys had different ideas to what things were [i.e. who belonged and who did not], and they’d use it to intimidate, to harass, to bully.

Ernie “Joe” Ratfat (19 March 2021)

Well, I remember [wardens] always enforced . . . if you’re caught shooting a buffalo, that they had a fine to pay for or else I think there’s a jail term too. Yeah, and they would come into your home, and they would check your meat, you know? If that fat, you know, the buffalo fat? Like it’s kind of like a yellowish color. So, if they see that, you’re charged.

Alice Rigney (16 March 2021)

On wardens and regulations

There was no trust. Parks Canada was able to go into anybody’s home and check and see if you had buffalo meat. And if you had buffalo meat,` they could sentence you to jail. I mean that kind of rudeness and impolite[ness] and power over the people. And I mean, my family did not, we don’t live in the Park. We never did.

And I hear a lot of stories about how they used to have to hide buffalo meat, because Parks Canada could just go to your tent and search through your coolers and your sheds to see if you have any caribou meat. I heard of an Elder who shot a duck out of season and he went to jail for a week or so—you know, stories like that. Where the intimidation was so strong that I mean, people live there in their homelands you know, even though House River [Birch River/House Lake settlement] is just a memory now, I mean, they lived listening for a motor. My brother had a friend living at Quatre Fourches—the Mikisew Cree have a little micro-village there now—and it’s not very far from town, it’s in the Park. And my brother Joe went out to visit one of his friends. And when he pulled up to his cabin, [his friend] wasn’t there, so Joe thought, well, there’s a fire going. And then his friend comes out from behind the house carrying a pot, and in that pot was buffalo meat. And he had heard a boat and he took that pot of meat and went to hide it. That kind of intimidation . . . And, I mean, this is the guy who hunted and trapped all his life and here he is hiding a pot of buffalo meat. That is the lowest way of hurting people, you know?

When Parks was created, it became a whole new level of government with their rules and whatnot. No one was allowed—you could not hunt at certain times. You could not do this, you could not hunt. Can’t shoot ducks in the summer, you know, crazy things like that.

On wolf culling

I mean, there’s no glamour in Wood Buffalo National Park. And the introduction of the buffalo in 192[6] just caused disease, and then [Parks Canada] they started exterminating the wolves without listening to people. I mean, what was wrong with the way it was? Why couldn’t they just leave it alone? Let Mother Nature look after Mother Nature.

And just, there’s that concept that white people think different than the land users, you know? We protect the land, as all of us, we were taught to protect the land and save it so that our children and grandchildren can use it as they have. It’s destroyed now. You know, we can’t do it [can’t protect it like we used to]. So, we’re trying to fight back. And as long as the government allows all this pollution and Parks, I mean, they have lifted a lot of the limitations and allowed Dene people to hunt in the Park, but most of us don’t go there. We go to our traditional hunting spots.

It’s the interference and the way of thinking that the Parks warden thinks that they could—they’re trying to change Mother Nature by introducing a new breed [of bison] to this breed here. Mother Nature has a way of looking after what she has. The local people here know that when they go hunting, they only take what they need. They do not leave any behind. And there’s always that sharing. So that’s how it always was, and then [Parks] bring in all this [Wainwright] herd. And they got diseases and whatnot. And then they introduced [Wainwright plains bison], and then to get rid of the wolves, they start poisoning them. Well, you poison the wolves, it’s just a vicious cycle. In the middle of that vicious cycle, is a big question mark. Like, why? Why did they even bother? I mean, because they’re scientists? And because maybe they have these fancy letters behind their names that they think they know more than the local people. I mean, this is something that’s being done all over the world.

On the bison slaughter program

I remember going to Hay Camp in the Park, my sister actually lived with a park warden there, and how they used to corral [bison] and they used to slaughter so many and that was for, you know, they would ship them south. The hides would be sent south for tann[ing]. But the buffalo there were not slaughtered for the people, for the community here. It was sent out and later on they did have one or two years where they did slaughter buffalo and distributed the meat in town.

Mary “Cookie” Simpson (11 March 2021)

On harvesting regulations

MS: And then they had their stupid rules. They had all kinds of different regulations. They brought the buffalo in, and you couldn’t shoot them, even if you were hungry, or even if it was there, which is not right. Because I know my family did not just go and kill just for the sake of killing lots of animals. They only took what they can eat, and they used every part of the animal.

ST: What would happen if you broke the rules?

MS: Well, they would throw you in jail. They would take you . . . and you had to feed your family. Somebody had to stay and feed their family. They couldn’t afford to go to jail. So of course, they just forced our people into following their stupid regulations.

On warden intimidation

It’s always a threat. Every time you see somebody with—what do you call their outfit—on? You think, “oh shit, they’re gonna come and give us shit or they’re going to come and arrest us.” You know, there was not even a good relationship with them. Like today you can have a good relationship with a cop or somebody, but long time ago you couldn’t. It was always the threat of something bad is going to happen. Sudden doom is going to come to you if you see somebody with one of those green outfits on.

And then, yeah, they didn’t care for the people. There was nothing like caring and whatever. Like the Aboriginal People still cared and shared and whatever, but not with them. There was nothing with them, they just came to rule. They came and they had the regulations that they had to follow and that’s what they did. There was no give or take anything. You’ve never ever heard of anybody just saying, “you know I guess I’ll let you go this time or whatever,” you never heard nothing like that.

On banning Indigenous ceremonies under the 1951 Indian Act

ST: So, you have to be pretty careful, I guess, hey?

MS: Yes. That’s right. And then you couldn’t even practice your culture or your drumming or whatever. Because the park wardens would come and they’d hear your drum or whatever, then they’d go back and tell the RCMP. And they would come over and say, “oh, you were heard. Your drums were being heard.” And then so, you had to hide all that.

Cause my dad and my grandpa’s house there, where my dad and them all lived, they have a cellar in there. And in that cellar, there’s a secret compartment where they had to keep their drums. If somebody would check that house out, they’ll know there’s a secret compartment, because it’s still there. Because we checked it out a couple of years ago, well when my brother Charlie [Simpson] was still alive. We went in and checked it out. And sure enough, there was a drum frame in there. The hide was eaten away on the sides. But even that, like—they [the authorities] were bad. You couldn’t practice anything.

ST: So you couldn’t even drum?

MS: No, that was banned for about 75 years, at least three generations. You couldn’t practice your culture. You couldn’t have your Sweats or anything.

ST: Right. Yeah. Because the Indian Act, eh?

MS: Yeah. And of course, those park wardens, they were out there more than the RCMP, right? So, they would hear that [drumming] and they would see that, so of course, they’d go back and tell on us. And that’s why nobody likes them.

Edouard Trippe de Roche

A portion of this interview is available as a digital audio recording online.⁶²

Yeah, I know for a fact there was, back in the ’50s, ’60s, everybody in Fort Chip was burning wood. Maybe two or three percent of people burned fuel—you know like Indian Affairs, the Park, the RCMP, police, the Hudson’s Bay Company. So, people were saying, the residential school ought to burn wood for heat and cooking. They were allowed to get wood in the Wood Buffalo Park, and they’d buy, I don’t know how many cords of wood, I don’t know how many cords there is, thousands—the state harvest in the year. But we weren’t allowed to harvest any firewood from the Park to bring into Fort Chip.

But yet again, in the ’60s probably late ’50s, early ’60s, they had sawmills in the Park and they were permitted to log on the Cree side of the Park, and to my understanding, their permit is still valid today and yet we Natives cannot put a sawmill in the Park. And I know of four sites that there were sawmills, four or five sites in the Park.

As for harvesting fur, I think my dad had a permit but I’m not sure if I can still use it today if I had to. I don’t know if it’s passed on from one generation to the next. But he used to trap in the Park. I don’t know if it was with other people or by himself, but by his own area and I know that there were some people were allowed to harvest a buffalo here and there. And I know of two people that were charged for harvesting buffalo. But I guess it’s all right if you ate it in the Park. But they brought it to Fort Chip, so they got charged for that. Back in the ’60s, my cousin Gilbert got fined $100 which would be something like, what, $10,000 today, probably. And one of them, the other guys, got his meat taken away. So, they [wardens] took all his meat. He had moose meat in there. A friend of mine and I helped them get some meat back. We told him to meet us—it was at the RCMP station. And we hauled all this buffalo meat out, so when he went to court there was just this moose meat, so they had to throw it out of court. But, you know, there was things like that, and at the residential school, we ate buffalo meat.

Magloire Vermillion

On one occasion I was with my family, and we were low on supplies. It was then I decided to hunt for ducks, so I had killed six ducks and, at the same time, by coincidence, the Park wardens came. Not really knowing what their action would be, thinking that they would not react to my killing of the ducks, I proceeded to go home with my ducks in my boat. They were following me, but I thought they were just going to go by, but apparently, they followed me home. When I got home, they took my ducks and gun. Along with these, a fine was imposed for me to pay in the amount of $14.00. They had also taken my boat. My gun was barely given back to me.

Another incident was when I killed a beaver in early spring. I put my beaver in my sled and proceeded home with my beaver. It was getting very late, so I came upon this camp where some Crees were staying. They had no meat of any kind. I was going to camp there anyway. I had this beaver in my sled, so I went out to get it. We skinned the beaver and boiled the meat. After that I camped there. The Cree had told the game warden that I had killed the beaver out of season.

Shortly after that I came to Fort Chip. It was then the Park warden had told me to turn in my permit. I was not to trap, hunt, and fish in the Park for one whole year.

I was very frustrated and disappointed. My permit was taken from me, my only source of livelihood. All my trapping, hunting, and fishing supplies were in my cabin at Peace Point [inside the Park, where he could not go without a valid permit]. There was nothing that I could do about the incident.

It was in early summer. I had thought the whole situation over.

I then made up my mind that I would personally see the district superintendent myself. So I moved to go to Fort Smith, since the district office was there. I went by boat to Fitzgerald. From there, I left my boat. I proceeded to Fort Smith which is about 22 miles by foot. I went directly to the district office. I went into the office. There was this district superintendent who used to be a Hudson’s Bay clerk. I knew the man personally when he used to be the clerk. Now he is the district superintendent. I told him about the incident. I could not understand how I could have killed a beaver out of season when it was early spring. I told him that Philip Burkque [the warden] and his assistants had told me to turn in my permit. So I turned my permit over to him. I also told him that this permit that I handed in was the only source for me to provide for my family since we lived off the land. Philip Burkque was in the same office that time, but in a different room. He [the district superintendent] then called him [Burkque] into his office. Philip then sat down in a chair with no impression of any sort of incident. It appears that he had no knowledge of why I was there.

I told him [the district superintendent] that it was the warden that is sitting in the chair along with his assistants who told me that I [un]lawfully had killed a beaver out of season and told me to turn in my permit. The district superintendent then questioned him to cross-examine the situation—but apparently what happened was the intention of showing their authority [Park’s authority], rather than for the principle [of conservation]. They both started to blame each other for the so-called illegal principle, not knowing who should take the blame. But this confusion was a coverup. I was then given back my permit.

The district superintendent couldn’t see the point during this confusion. So he told his wardens that he could not see how this Treaty Indian had killed a beaver out of season when it was early spring when the beaver season expires late spring. So he told him to turn the permit which was in his hands, back to me.

I then proceeded back to Fort Chipewyan. I stayed for a short period, and during this short period, Philip Burkque came up to me and told me while he was laughing, that I could have my permit back. I went to his office with him to get my permit. He then told me that he was told from the district office that was to turn over my permit to me.

[Burkque explained], “In the future if you’re trapping, hunting, and fishing, we are not to interfere with your Treaty.”

If I had not decided to act on the so-called violation, I probably would not have gotten my permit back.

Leslie Wiltzen (21 January 2021)

On harvesting regulations

In the first portion of this excerpt, Leslie discusses how some of the state-imposed harvesting regulations (in this case seasons for migratory bird hunting) were incongruous with Dene subsistence practices and Traditional Knowledge, and often did not make sense in the context of the north.

You know, when you start talking about stuff like that [harvesting regulations], you talk about, in springtime, the people of Fort Chipewyan—it’s the people of the North. In springtime you have a mass migration of waterfowl that come from southern areas to northern areas to nest. But you have both male and female species that come in abundance, great abundance. Like I said, when I spoke to you earlier, it was like a cloud. A cloud of geese lifted up. You could hear the thunder from the wings flapping together. Huge, huge amounts of birds. [Yet] you know, the regulations indicate that you couldn’t have a bird in the springtime when they’re at their most; you have to wait for fall. And, you know, birds in the spring—that’s when they’re the most, that’s when they’re [in] the best shape as they’ve been down in certain areas, feeding on corn, feeding on farmers’ fields where food was plentiful. So when they go up north, they lay their eggs, the females lay their eggs, the young are born, they’re all skinny. When they go back south in the fall time, they’re in their worst shape, right? Because they’ve depleted all that resources that they built up down south for that long migration flight, and then to have their young and then migrate back.

So when you’re hunting for food in the springtime, and the wardens come along and start taking your birds away and say you can’t kill birds, or you have to start hiding your birds for fear of being charged. And in 1899 when you [Indigenous leaders] negotiated your treaty [Treaty 8], it indicated that you would be able to carry on your traditional way of living, to make a livelihood to feed your family, as you did regardless [as though you had never taken treaty]. And then all of a sudden again, here’s another roadblock: we’ve just formed the Park but also you can’t kill these birds now. So again, you know those are hardships. 

Now we kill a duck, people long ago, those bones after you’re all done [with the duck], those bones you don’t want to have around your house. So you take them and you go somewhere in the bush and you throw them away. You throw them away because you have fear that if the wardens come around, they’re gonna ask you “where did you get that bird?” They’re gonna try to prove that you’re guilty [of] taking that bird when you’re not supposed to, even though your stomach says you need that bird. See, that’s how it was. And when you look at those regulations, long ago, they were imposed. They were developed, again without consultation, without any input of how they would affect the day-to-day living of the Chipewyan people.

So again, there’s a good [amount] of regulations that were put in place, they don’t work. They work in southern jurisdictions, but they don’t work in the northern parks. Because in the south populations, like say now you go around Elk Island [near Edmonton, Alberta], you’re [in] an urban park surrounded by urban people. You’re not a park that is surrounded by Aboriginal People that have traditionally harvested food for as long as time immemorial, right? So, Elk Island National Park . . . you know, it’s been modernized and commercialized to a point where that’s what it is. People don’t make a living there [from the land] anymore. People can’t make a living anymore. So that’s why I say it works. Those laws work good, those laws. When you look at the laws of Wood Buffalo National Park, the regulations of Wood Buffalo National Park, and you look at the regulations of Elk Island, they’re similar in design and their approach when they were written. They’re written for white people, right? Written for Canadians. But never took the treaties the Aboriginal People signed into consideration. That when we signed treaty, it said that “as long as the rivers flow, and the sun shines” we’ll be able to fish, hunt, and trap. But when those regulations came into effect, our rights were stomped on. Again, no consultation, no input by the Aboriginal People.

On relations with wardens

I started working with Parks Canada on the fire crew back in the late ’80s or early ’90s, and I myself have gone through the federal park warden training program. I’ve gone through the RCMP Depot Division [training program] and I became a full-fledged park warden in Wood Buffalo National Park. So I know the regulations and I know all the red tape, right? So, you know, it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating to see how little progress from even in 1990 to today. If we hadn’t had certain court cases that dictated how the federal government would react to Aboriginal People, I feel, I still think we’d be in a situation where the federal government would still be trying to dictate to us what we were to do, and how to do it, and how we were to react.

Because, you know what, there’s a lot of people in this Park I find that have been here long, long enough. I call them old school park wardens. They’re starting to fade out, which is nice to see. It’ll be a good day when they’re all gone. Because you need new people to come and take on a new perspective. When you come to Wood Buffalo National Park, as an employee from another part of the country . . . we haven’t always had people that have been cooperatively willing to give the Aboriginal People the benefit of the doubt in this park. And it’s always been a struggle. And when you come to Wood Buffalo National Park starting your career, and you have that mindset, then all of a sudden you have a few court cases that dictate otherwise of how you are to think and how you are to react with Aboriginal People. It’s hard to change on a split of a dime and change your thinking. In your mind you’ve always got that old school thinking, “this is what we used to do.” And I still find today a lot of the people that are old school will push the envelope to the point where “what can we get away with?” With knowing the boundaries that have been set by precedent, courts that have set precedents. But they’ll still push, still push, still push.

Anonymous ACFN Elder (11 March 2021)

Elder: The park rangers, this is a little way back, you know, they were pretty strict. But now, no, because they only got about one ranger here, or two.

[They were pretty] strict, yeah. They were, they were. Long time ago, we couldn’t even go to the Park. We got to get a permit. You know, and that’s how they were doing that. You can’t go. You can’t go to the Park. . . .

PF: So what did people think of them?

Elder: Well, the warden, you were scared of him. Well not me, I wasn’t scared. . . . But they don’t let you hunt or trap or do anything. They won’t let you camp out there or nothing.

Anonymous ACFN Elder (16 March 2021)

Elder: Okay, I was gonna ask you a question. How come the Roman Catholics could shoot a buffalo? They took pictures in there, and us Indians from Fort Chip can’t shoot a buffalo. It makes sense to you?

ST: I think they had that relief program so they could shoot a buffalo and then they distribute the meat in the mission or in the hospital?

Elder: Ok. Yeah, I’m just asking. To me, it didn’t seem right as a Dene . . . You know, how come a white man can shoot a buffalo and the Dene can never really shoot one?

ST: And sometimes they even sold the meat down south too.

Elder: Yes? Oh I didn’t know, like I read that, looked at that book, and I was thinking about that. And how come they have the right to shoot a buffalo and we can’t? And they have big pictures of them shooting buffalo.

Anonymous ACFN Member (21 March 2021)

I did hear stories that they [harvesters] will lose [have confiscated if they broke the rules] all their trapping stuff, you know? And, what do you call even—like, if they were stopped in their vehicle out in the Park with that, they’d lose their vehicle, their guns, everything. And they’d go to court, and they could go to jail. But I never heard of anyone. Because I was young that time, so I was, I didn’t really know.

I did hear stories that they will lose all their trapping stuff, you know.They had to get a license to hunt beaver from the Park in 1912. And that’s where some people didn’t have license, so they ended up starving. Because they weren’t able to hunt in the Park.