Is Science Important Only During Pandemics?

Guest Blog: Biologist Lorne Fitch has once again provided an essay for my blog. It is an opinion piece that was first published in the May 14, 2020 Lethbridge Herald. Lorne’s previous essays posted here can be found by putting “Lorne Fitch” in the search box at the top of this page.

Is Science Important Only During Pandemics?
by Lorne Fitch
Copyright © 2020

Do you know of any effective incantations, spells or potions to help us in this time of crisis and uncertainty? No? If there is a silver lining in the coronavirus disease pandemic, it might be to reassert in people’s minds the role, importance and prominence of science in our lives. Science provided the answer to what the virus was, is the basis for vaccine development and is the mechanism for direction on how to cope. Hands down, science trumps magic, effectively deals with ignorance and calms hysteria.


Science seeks to find the truth about what we see in nature.

The coronavirus will not be beaten by necklaces of garlic, snake-oil salesmen with fake curesor the limp pronouncements by partisan politicians. What will head it off will be the patient research and testing of anti-viral treatments and antibodies coupled with the calm determination of our provincial and federal medical health officers.

But we can’t turn science on or off depending on our whims, biases and our tribal affiliations on social media. Of course, you are entitled to your opinions, but you are not entitled to your own facts. Science is the ultimate arbiter of knowledge.

“The good thing about science”, says Neil deGrasse Tyson, the astrophysicist and science spokesman, “is that it’s true, whether or not you believe it.”

In science, a theory is an established body of knowledge about a subject, supported by observable facts, repeatable experiments and logical reasoning. It is a formal explanation of some aspect of the natural world, tested and verified with evidence. Science can be described as observation, hypothesis, experimentation, repetition and finally conclusion. By contrast, much of what we are deluged with is a conclusion based on unsubstantiated, untested anecdote, the weakest, worst and most biased kind of information for decision-making. Examples include:

  • Climate change deniers who base their conclusions on exceptions in the research instead of looking at the overwhelming body of evidence. More than 97% of experts in climate science have concluded that climate change is occurring and it is human-caused.
  • Because it suits their narrative, many in the off-highway vehicle community refuse to accept the research results indicating their activity impacts watershed integrity, water quality, fish and wildlife populations and other recreational users. This perceptual blindness works its way into partisan politics, despite the unequivocal nature of the science.
  • Most of us, including politicians, industry and recreationalists cheerfully ignore the science of cumulative effects, the additive impact of doing too much, too often, on an already busy landscape. We have often exceeded critical ecological thresholds and the outcomes are enhanced risk, reduced system resilience, diminished opportunity and costly restoration.

Science seems ever under attack, by those who do not like the message, feel it impairs their freedom, limits their business and doesn’t match their ideology. History provides us a rich treasure trove of examples of groups, corporations, business and, sadly, politicians, who have predictably damned the messenger.

Then, there is the corrosive effect on science, occurring primarily in social media, to create an alternative reality where facts are, if not irrelevant, at least optional. It is the place of substitution of unfounded opinion for evidence. There is faith in that for which there is no factual support; disbelief and denial about occurrences and events for which there is. The numbing thing about the tribalism inherent in social media is your group routinely provides the conditions that spare you the need to think and so you get out of the habit.

The complex mechanisms of the modern world depend on the certainty of science, just as the medieval world was governed by religious dogma, ritual and faith. Reliance on fears, irrational explanations and faith gave way to deductive reasoning, multiple observations and objective, evidence-based analysis divorced from preconceived notions and outcomes.

To step backwards, relying on opinion and unsubstantiated intuition, rather than evidence is a retrogressive step in today’s age.

It’s not that science compels us to take a course of action; science can tell us what’s happening (or is likely to happen) but it can’t make the decisions on what to do. In any decision we have to weigh the benefits, the costs and the consequences. Science ensures an honest accounting that can’t be swept under a rug of bureaucratic euphemisms.

When we ignore, trivialize or subvert science it leaves many people unprepared and unable to discuss or understand the damage exerted on the atmosphere, the landscape, habitat for wildlife or on our individual health.

So, does science matter? When we come out of this pandemic, we might reflect that science matters because it can guide us, point us to the truth and, our lives will continue to depend on it.

Lorne Fitch is a Professional Biologist, a retired Fish and Wildlife Biologist and a former Adjunct Professor with the University of Calgary.

Comments are welcome (below); but you may also contact Lorne directly at

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Daylight Moving Time

Copyright © 2020 Don H. Meredith, All Rights Reserved

As I write this, it’s the day before most of us move our clocks ahead one hour to comply with so-called Daylight Saving Time. Of course, we’re not really saving any daylight. What we gain in daylight at the end of the day we lose at the beginning, and if you’re a morning person like me, you will see more darkness in the morning. That’s good for my star gazing activities but not much else.


The rising and setting of the sun are important environmental cues for our bodies.

I remember as a young person looking forward to DST because it signalled for me that winter was coming to an end and summer vacation wasn’t far off. But that was back in the day when the change was made shortly after the spring equinox (e.g., 1st Sunday in April) and daylight was already longer than night. DST also ended shortly after the fall equinox (e.g., 1st Sunday in October) when the days were already shorter than the nights. Thus, DST lasted about 6 months. Over the years, however, governments have slowly whittled away at Standard Time, increasing the length of DST, saying it saved energy. However, studies have shown that whatever energy was saved by not turning on lights, etc. was more than made up for by the energy used to take advantage of the increased evening daylight. So, now the excuse is that DST is good for business.

As a result, we now have Standard Time only slightly longer than 4 months of the year (1st Sunday in November to 2nd Sunday in March). So, the clock change in the fall is followed pretty quickly by the clock change in late winter. That issue seems to be frustrating many people and they are asking why we’re making these changes in the first place? It’s a good question. It’s been shown that the spring switch to DST, when an hour of sleep is lost, results in an increase in traffic fatalities the following day—most likely related to sleep deprivation.

Standard Time
The world-wide standard of a day being broken up into 24 hours and an hour being divided by 60 minutes, etc. was first devised by the ancient Babylonians who used 60 as a base for their number system. This system has stuck for time keeping to the present day (the same Babylonian base-60 system is used on the compass).

Before the invention of clocks and watches, time was marked by the use of sundials, where noon was determined when the sun was at its zenith and the shadow on the sundial was minimal. When clocks came along, they were set by looking at the sundial. As villages and towns grew, many placed large clocks outside on prominent buildings, such as the town office, so people could see the time and easily calibrate their own clocks and watches. But the sundial was still used to calibrate the town clock.

This system worked well for town residents and people who lived near the towns. In those days, most people didn’t travel much from their homes and farms, except to buy supplies or for social interactions. Some would make trips to other towns and perhaps further away but usually not very far. Those that did make extended trips found their watches (if they owned them) were slightly off from the time shown on the next town’s clock because noon arrived there at a slightly different time, depending on whether travelling west or east.

Then along came the railroads and their schedules. People needed to know when a train was going to arrive and leave, but if each town had its own version of time, schedules were impossible. Thus, Standard Time was created where 24 time zones were established around the globe and all communities within each zone committed to the same time. No longer were communities directly connected to Solar Time, or noon occurring when the sun was directly overhead. Indeed, as a result of political decisions, many of the time zones are skewed out of line with solar noon, increasing the disconnect with Solar Time.

Daylight Saving Time
Germany was the first to create DST, during World War I as a way to conserve the fuel needed to produce electrical power for their arms factories. Other countries soon followed. After the war countries attempted to continue the practice but met opposition in many jurisdictions mainly because people got up and went to bed much earlier than they do today. After World War II, advancements in technology—such as television—caused people to stay up later, and they were more willing to make the change. Much of the world came on board by the 1970s and ‘80s. Then the incremental increases in DST over the years whittled away at Standard Time and opposition to time changes has risen again. Only this time, most people want to keep DST, even in the winter when here in Canada the days are short indeed and DST will mean the sun does not come up until very late on a mid-winter morning.

Circadian Rhythm
The sun rising late in the morning causes an issue with our biological clocks, the clocks in our bodies that regulate various physiological processes, including hormones that control our moods. Those clocks operate on a daily or circadian rhythm. Not unlike mechanical clocks, biological clocks tend to drift if they are not regularly recalibrated. Exposure to natural daylight provides that calibration and ensures the clock delivers the services the body requires at the right time. Less light in the morning and more light in the evening can challenge our biological clocks as they try to align Solar Time with DST. Sleep deprivation, anxiety and various mood swings can be the result in the short term, and increased rates of diabetes, obesity, cancer and heart attacks in the long term.

Changing back and forth each year from Standard to Daylight Saving Time hardly seems a worthwhile practice given the negative evidence that has accumulated over the years. And neither does changing to permanent DST. I for one would be in favor of returning to year-around Standard Time, where noon is at least close to when the sun is at its zenith and the amount of morning daylight is near equal to that in the afternoon. I know I’m in the minority, as poll after poll indicates the majority of people would prefer permanent DST (in a recent poll, the Alberta Government didn’t even offer Standard Time as an option). But perhaps we shouldn’t be moving daylight around at all and instead should be giving our bodies a chance to reconnect with the natural rhythms that used to govern us all.

Comments are always welcome (below).

Visit me on my website where you’ll find more stories and pics:

Interested in reading an award-winning outdoor adventure novel? Check out The Search for Grizzly One and Dog Runner.

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Freedom and Climate Change: A Numbers Game

“Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose
And nothin’ ain’t worth nothin’ but it’s free”
—Kris Kristofferson, Me and Bobby McGee

Despite the overwhelming scientific evidence and the daily news reports of one climate disaster after another, many people still resist accepting human-caused climate change as a reality. I believe at least some of that resistance is due to the restrictions on our freedoms such acceptance would require if we wish to avoid the worst of the catastrophe. The problem is we will lose a lot more of our freedoms if we don’t respond to the reality.

Freedom is something all citizens of a democracy are supposed to cherish and indeed defend. After all, democracy is all about the freedom to choose our own leaders and governments. However, there’s a lot more to freedom than just deciding who governs us.

Freedom is generally defined as “The power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants.” (Oxford Dictionary). Of course, the reality is different. Society through its legal systems has determined there are limits to how people can act or speak. Thus, some of our freedom is restricted to protect the rights of others. Obvious examples include prohibitions against murder, theft, physical or verbal assaults, publicly defaming others and hate speech, just to name a few. Generally, we accept those rules so society does not degenerate into chaos. But there are other factors that affect our freedoms, factors that governments and individuals often ignore, or can’t or won’t control.

Population growth is one such factor. Our human population on this planet has been growing exponentially over the last couple of centuries because of advances in public health, medicine, agriculture and technology generally. Currently we are approaching eight billion people at the rate of 82 million+ people per year (World Population Clock). Or put another way, the human population of this planet increases (number born minus number die) by over 9,000 people every hour. That’s a lot of bodies requiring food, water, shelter and access to jobs and places to recreate. There are only fixed amounts of those resources available at any one time. So yes, there is a limit to the number of people our earth can support.

Jasper NP

As our population grows, more and more people want to experience our wild places.

Eminent biologist Edward O. Wilson wrote in his 2003 book, The Future of Life, the gross human carrying capacity of the earth is around 10 billion people, provided that every bit of arable land on the planet is put into maximum agricultural production and all people become vegetarians (a lot more vegetarians can be supported off the land than meat eaters because vegetarians eat lower on the food chain where more energy is available). Of course, that’s not going to happen. Over the last few decades much cropland has been paved over, contaminated or lost to climate change (e.g., desertification, floods, rising sea levels), and meat eating is an important component of many cultures.

As we exceed our carrying capacity, life will become more uncomfortable for more and more people. Indeed, we are already seeing this in terms of increases in worldwide conflicts and the number of people being forced to migrate from distressed regions to seek refuge in more prosperous areas of the planet, such as Canada.

So, what is a carrying capacity that will allow most people to live comfortable lives? There is much debate about the answer. Some believe it is 3.5 to 4 billion people, or the population of the earth back in the 1970s. Others believe it could be 5 to 7 billion people, provided we can maintain our current agricultural production. With climate change, the latter will be difficult.

Thus, we are already over our carrying capacity and are just now starting to realize it. We’ve all seen the symptoms, even here in Canada, from rush-hour traffic gridlock in our cities, through crowded highways, campgrounds, beaches, and boat launches; and to the increased stress and frustration our population is experiencing as expressed in mental health issues.

The climate-change crisis is directly related to human population growth. The more people there are, the more that burn fossil fuels, especially in developing countries. As economies improve, citizens want more of what more prosperous countries have, and more fossils fuels are burned to achieve those goals. Indeed, many of the changes automobile and airplane manufactures have made to improve engine efficiency and reduce fuel consumption are largely negated by the increase in vehicle use. The improvements help but they don’t slow the rate of fuel consumption and dispersal of greenhouse gases. Meanwhile, wildfire, rising sea level, air and water pollution threaten all our freedoms.

Watch Tower, JNP

What used to be “the freedom of the hills” is now the freedom to plan well ahead.

If you are someone who enjoys the outdoors here in Canada, one of the best ways to assess how population growth is affecting your freedom is to compare what’s been happening in our wild places over the years. In the 1970s and ‘80s, it wasn’t all that difficult to get a campsite in our provincial and national parks, even in the summer on a weekend. There were no reservation systems, and if you got to the campground by 4:00 p.m. you were pretty likely to obtain a site. Not these days. If you want to go camping in our parks in the summer, you should reserve your site online starting in the winter. Sure, parks usually keep a few sites open on a first-come-first-served basis, but those sites are snapped up very quickly each day. Reservations are also required for people to hike and camp on the popular trails in the backcountry of those parks. These restrictions are necessary if we want to protect the reasons we go there in the first place. But they do erode our freedom to move where we want when we want. As more people come into our country and province, it will only get worse.

Outside our parks, our wildlands are also getting crowded. Random camping used to be a way to get away from the crowds at designated sites, but now many random sites are also crowded, as more and more people seek ways to camp the way they want and not be restricted by the confines of an officially designated campsite. But because such camping is not regulated, campers often leave a mess and more land is denigrated, reducing everyone’s enjoyment of the outdoors—another freedom restricted.

And it’s not just the crowding. How many lakes and streams can you fish and legally keep one to eat? It wasn’t long ago in Alberta you could harvest fish at most of them and with generous catch limits. It was indeed possible to eat several meals of wild fish throughout a season. Not anymore. Eating a wild Alberta fish is indeed becoming an uncommon luxury, and in many cases requires a special licence and tag.

And if you’re a hunter, how easy has it been to get a licence for game in an area you like to hunt? You’re having to wait longer and longer for a special hunting licence issued on a draw.

Simonette Camp

Our freedom to move where we want when we want is being restricted more and more.

But it’s not just overexploitation that’s threatening our fish and wildlife. It’s also habitat destruction as more and more of us require shelter, food and energy. Logging, oil and gas exploration, unregulated off-highway vehicle use, rural residential development and urban expansion have all contributed to reduced fish and wildlife habitat. Reduced habitat means fewer wild animals to see and overall less wild land providing the environmental services all life requires. So, our freedom to enjoy and benefit from wild places is more restricted, every day.

The more people there are in a country, province or region, the smaller the share of the resources each of us has, including access to wild country to fish, hunt, hike or just enjoy for its own sake. So, even though we live in a relatively wealthy country, we are feeling the effects of overpopulation. Climate change is just one major consequence.

What Can Be Done?
With regard to population growth, not much. China tried to control its growing population in 1979 through its one-child program, where couples were encouraged—if not forced—to have but one child. Although the program somewhat reduced population growth, it was a disaster because the government didn’t consider cultural issues, including the need for families to have a male heir, and for aging parents to have help in their old age.

No. Government control of population is not possible, especially in a democracy. How many children you have is one freedom that is sacrosanct. Unfortunately, such decisions in so-called developing countries are often not decisions at all. If you don’t have access to birth control or are confined by your culture/religion to not regulate your births, you will have more children.

What is possible in a democracy is for people to decide, on their own, to keep their families small. And this can only happen if people have access to birth control, and can see a sustainable future.

The bottom line is the earth’s human population is going to continue to grow until there are no longer sufficient resources to sustain such growth, a point we might already be reaching. Once that happens, the human crises will only get worse (for a likely if extreme scenario, check out Climate Crisis Wipe Out). It won’t happen at once. But what will happen in the near future is that a lot more people will be showing up at our borders wanting asylum or to otherwise immigrate to escape intolerable conditions at home or to just improve their lives.

My question is just what is Canada’s human carrying capacity? How much of that capacity is dependent on imported food and goods? Would we be able to support our present and future population if we had to supply all our food from within our borders?

There are no answers to these questions because few want to consider them. We prefer to believe we have the freedom to buy food, goods and services from anywhere in the world. Yet, with climate change, population growth, etc. other countries may soon not be able to provide food in excess of what their own populations require.

Until we have a national and indeed global conversation about these issues and how to mitigate them, we will continue on down the same perpetual-growth road until our freedoms will be restricted to basic survival.

Copyright © 2020 Don H. Meredith, All Rights Reserved

Comments are always welcome (below).

Visit me on my website where you’ll find more stories and pics:

Interested in reading an award-winning outdoor adventure novel? Check out The Search for Grizzly One and Dog Runner.

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A Fisher at the Feeder

Copyright © 2019 Don H. Meredith, All Rights Reserved

“Don,” my wife said in a half-whisper. “Come quick.” It was an October morning just before sunrise, and I was doing my early morning routine of reviewing and deleting email messages that had accumulated overnight in my inbox. I followed Betty from my office to the darkened dining room where, through the window, we would often watch the birds and red squirrels come to our feeders hanging off the railing above the deck. However, the animal sitting on the railing with its snout pushed into a bird feeder was no bird or squirrel.

2019-10-19 Meredith-Fisher-1

Betty and I have lived on a rural acreage west of Edmonton, Alberta, for over 40 years now. We love it here, where we built our home in a mixed-wood forest mostly dominated by poplar trees (balsam and aspen). We have a small clearing where we grow a garden and orchard. Although we keep trees and shrubs cleared around our house and other buildings, we otherwise leave the trees and underbrush undisturbed because we appreciate the wildlife they attract.

As a biologist/naturalist, I enjoy watching wildlife of all kinds. The series of bird feeders attracts a variety of birds throughout the year. Although some of the feeders are “squirrel proof,” providing food for smaller birds, such as chickadees, nuthatches and redpolls, I also have a couple of hopper feeders for larger birds, such as blue jays and grosbeaks, as well as squirrels. As a graduate-student, I studied squirrels and their behavior. So, I appreciate the red squirrels that frequent our hopper feeders. (Red squirrels are amazingly intelligent problem solvers, but that’s a blog for another time.)

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAt first, Betty thought this particular animal was a cat and was going to shoo it away. But then she saw its face. “More like a weasel,” she said, as I cautiously approached the window. Standing on the deck railing with its front paws hanging off one of the hopper feeders, the animal munched on sunflower seeds. It was larger than a typical house cat, with a long bushy tail and thick dark-brown fur. When I looked at its face, the first species that came to mind was marten, but that wasn’t right either. I have seen several martens (Martes americana) over the years. They are smaller and sleeker than this animal, and I’d never seen a marten here.

Having studied mammals most of my life, I knew what this member of the weasel family (Mustelidae) must be, but found myself denying the reality. If we had not seen marten here, why would we be seeing its rarer cousin, the fisher (Pekania pennanti)?

Fishers are indeed rarely seen. I was lucky enough to see one when I was hunting moose in northwestern Alberta, many years ago. It was up a tree arguing with a coyote on the ground. Both animals ignored me and I moved on, cursing myself for not packing a camera (this was back in the pre-digital-camera/smartphone days). However, I realized I was very lucky to have seen the fisher and the memory is tattooed on my brain.

2008-09 Meredith-RedSquirrel

Red squirrels are regular visitors to our feeders. They are a preferred prey species of the fisher and might have initially attracted the fisher to our feeders.

The common name “fisher” is a bit of a misnomer. Fishers do not normally catch or eat fish. The name evolved apparently from the anglicization of the word fiche, relating in some way to the European pole cat, which the fisher is not.

A very efficient hunter, the fisher hunts the prolific red squirrel, which might have been the reason it came to our location. But it is also an opportunity hunter, taking whatever is available at the time, from mice and frogs to snowshoe hares, the latter being a particular target. As well, it is known for being one of the few predators that will hunt porcupines. It will also eat carrion, berries, and as evidenced at our bird feeders, seeds.



The fisher eating some suet cake.

We watched the fisher for several minutes chowing down on our striped sunflower seeds. It was very efficient at shelling the seeds in its mouth without using its paws. Then I remembered to grab my smartphone and take some photos. By the time I returned the animal had moved down the railing to the other hopper feeder and was gnawing away at a cake of suet we’d placed at the end of the feeder for the woodpeckers. After eating a generous chunk, it slipped off the deck and disappeared into the woods. It was at our feeders for about 20 minutes.

I knew I was lucky to get the few pictures I did because I did not expect to see this animal again. But I also knew there was a slim possibility it might return for the easy pickings we provided. So, I set up a trail camera on the deck to record that eventuality. It was a good thing I did.

The next morning, I walked into our darkened kitchen a few minutes before sunup and through the window saw the fisher once again at the north feeder. I grabbed my digital camera and took a host of pictures through the window, using available light so I would not disturb the animal. As before, it spent considerable time eating at that feeder before moving down to the south feeder where it munched on the suet cake for a good period of time and then slinked off the deck and was gone.


Here the fisher caught my movement in the darkened window. Not seeing me as a threat it continued eating sunflower seeds.

On checking the trail cam, I found many pictures of the animal feeding on the north feeder. The south feeder was too far away for the camera to react. Because of the low light, the camera used its infrared flash to gather the photos, so all the images are in black and white. By the time it switched to available light (in color), the fisher was already gone.

2019-10-19 Meredith-TrailCam-Fisher-1

Using its infrared flash that is not detected by the eye, the trail camera caught the fisher at the feeder. The flash is reflected in the fisher’s eye and on the feeder to the right.

We speculated on the possibility that this animal might make our feeders a regular part of its daily routine. But I had my doubts. I knew they had large home ranges, and we would be lucky if it returned at all. Nevertheless, I made sure all the feeders were filled, the decimated suet cake replaced and the trail camera ready.

On the third morning, I camped in the dining room with my camera at the ready, well before sunrise. One thing we’d learned over the years is that the birds show up at our feeders when the pre-dawn light is at a certain intensity and not before. The squirrels, on the other hand, don’t show up until the sun is well above the horizon, which turns out to be a good strategy with regard to this fisher.

I started my vigil before the birds showed up. At the appointed time, the chickadees started darting into the feeder. I waited and waited, watching the birds come into the squirrel-proof feeders, taking their black sunflower seeds and flying up into the trees to crack them open. Then the blue jays appeared at the hopper feeders, taking the larger seeds for their use. Blue jays have an attitude about the feeders and will regularly drive the resident red squirrel crazy, flying from one hopper to the other as the squirrel races back and forth to chase them away.

As the morning got brighter and brighter, I could see that the south feeder was a bit askew. On closer inspection I saw the fresh cake of suet I had placed the previous morning was gone. Those cakes usually last more than a week and they would not be easy for a bird, squirrel or fisher to remove whole.

I was about to abandon my post, thinking the fisher was not going to show, when a large patch of brown fur slipped along the deck just below the window and went to the north feeder. Mounting the railing, the fisher yanked the feeder around shaking as many seeds as possible into the feeding tray. Then a blue jay boldly swooped down from its high perch in the trees right at the fisher, touching the shoulders with its feet. The fisher dropped the feeder to stand on all fours on the railing looking around as if wondering what was that? It quickly returned to feeding and the jay flew in again brushing the back of the animal with its wings. This time the fisher ignored the bird and the jay wisely gave up the attack.


The fisher after being buzzed by a blue jay.

On moving to the south feeder, the fisher yanked the feeder around looking for suet. Only finding remnants, it soon left. I checked my trail cam photos and confirmed the fisher had made a late visit to the feeders the night before (~10:15 p.m.), and was undoubtedly responsible for making off with the whole suet cake.

2019-10-19 Meredith-TrailCam-Fisher-2

Trail cam photo of the fisher at the feeder late at night

Commercially made suet cakes are cheap enough, but I wasn’t sure I should be giving whole cakes to one animal. So, this time I cut the cake into large pieces and wedged them into the suet holder in such a fashion it would be difficult for the animal to remove them.

The fisher did not return the next day, but did return the night before and made off with all the wedged suet cake. I had to come up with a better solution.

So far that was the last we saw of the fisher. I have since tied the suet cakes to the holder, and the fisher to our knowledge hasn’t returned to test my fix.

Fisher from Where?
Fishers live in a variety of forests, from coniferous through mixed-wood to deciduous. They used to be present from the northern boreal forest south into the parkland of central Alberta and all through the foothill and mountain zones. However, forestry, agriculture and development in the parkland and foothills, combined with trapping and poisoning, extirpated the fisher from these areas. So, perhaps fishers are reinvading their former range…? Or were they helped?

Back in the early 1990s, the Alberta Research Council released 20 or more fishers into the aspen parkland of central Alberta in the area around Elk Island National Park and the Blackfoot Grazing Reserve east of Edmonton in an attempt to restore fishers to their former range. Those animals quickly dispersed. So, it’s possible the fisher visiting our feeders is the progeny of that introduction. Then I discovered that the Edmonton and Area Land Trust recently captured images of a fisher in their wildlife camera on the trust’s Glory Hills conservation area—not too far from our home. Was that another consequence of the ARC introduction, or did these animals disperse to our area from their boreal habitats? I don’t know but you can bet I’ll be keeping my eyes open for further sightings.

And speaking of introductions, over the last few years, the Calgary Zoo has been shipping Alberta fishers (caught by trappers in northern Alberta) to the Cascade Mountains in Washington State where fishers were extirpated in the mid-20th century. The reintroductions are the result of a partnership among the Calgary Zoo , the Alberta Trappers Association, Conservation Northwest, the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife and the U.S. National Park Service. If the northern Alberta fisher population is deemed viable enough to provide individuals for transplant, maybe it’s productive enough to make a comeback into its former range!


Badry, M.J., G. Proulx and P.M. Woodard, 1993, “Reintroduction of Fisher in the Aspen Parkland of Alberta,” (PDF) Edmonton Naturalist, 21(1).

Pattie, Don and Chris Fisher, 1999, Mammals of Alberta, Lone Pine Publishing.

Soper, J. Dewey, 1964, The Mammals of Alberta, The Hamly Press Ltd.

U.S. National Park Service, 2019, Washington Fisher Restoration

Comments are always welcome (below).

Visit me on my website where you’ll find more stories and pics:

Interested in reading an award-winning outdoor adventure novel? Check out The Search for Grizzly One and Dog Runner.

Posted in Alberta, Conservation, Environment, General, Wildlife | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Public Land – Alberta’s Best Idea

Apology: For those of you who have been waiting for me (Don) to update my blog (a steadily decreasing number, I know), I must apologize. I know in this fast-paced world blogs are to be regularly updated with fresh content so that we don’t lose the interest of our dedicated readers. However, the simple reality is that I only have so much time in my day and other issues have taken priority. One of those issues is the writing of my memoirs about my experiences in wild places over the last 70+ years. I hope to post some of those memories here in the next few months. In the meantime…

Guest Blog: There is much debate in Alberta about how our public lands should be managed and whether or not they should be sold to private interests. In the following essay, biologist Lorne Fitch (a frequent guest blogger here) explains how Alberta came to have so much public land and the importance of those lands to our well being. The piece was first published in the June 2019 Alberta Outdoorsmen. Lorne’s previous essays posted here can be found by putting “Lorne Fitch” in the search box at the top of this page.

Public Land – Alberta’s Best Idea
by Lorne Fitch
Copyright © 2019

Sometimes, you need to be far from your mailbox to acknowledge a good idea in your own backyard. Such is the case with Alberta’s public lands. Public lands are those lands vested to us, the people of Alberta. In other words, these are our lands, in shared ownership, held in trust for us by the government of the day.

Lakeland Park

Public lands are a heritage we should not squander for short-term gains.

This good idea, public land, became clear to me while travelling through Texas, a place where a paltry 1.5% of the state is public. Imagine a jurisdiction with so little public land it hardly registers in the psyche of its citizens. In a recent issue of Texas Monthly, the state magazine, was an article on “75 Reasons to Love Texas”. Amid BBQ, cowboys and country and western music there were only two references to use of public land, and both were for federal parks.

Large portions of Texas seem like the land Cain was willed, where a cow has to pack a lunch to cross. Why it is in private hands is history, a perplexing conundrum in today’s world of expanding population, with recreational and ecological expectations to be met.
Contrast the Texas situation with Alberta where about 60% of the province is public land, private land is 28.5% and federally owned lands make up about 10%. What the remaining 1.5% are is unclear.

Alberta and Texas are roughly the same size. If we were to follow the example of Texas related to public land, as some politicians are suggesting, we, the Alberta public would be left with less than 10,000 km². That’s not much more than the current combined size of all First Nations reserves in the province, where the burgeoning population is stretching the limits.

We don’t have a Parthenon, an Acropolis or ancient palaces in Alberta. What we have is wild space, a natural heritage that has remained in public ownership and is bequeathed to us by past generations. This is an uncommon treasure, given the situation in much of the world. To say public land is part of our heritage is a point lost on some, especially those who see these lands as mere commodities, to be exploited for private or political gain. We might take pride in being Texas-sized but not in wholeheartedly embracing the Texas ideal of having all our land in private hands.

Some Albertans do propose converting the commons- public land- to private property, including newly elected politicians. The tug of war is repetitive between those who wish to maintain public land for the public good, and those who see sales as a get-rich-quick scheme. Sale of our natural heritage provides government a quick, one-time only influx of revenue. Selling public land, a continual generator of public revenue, means Albertans lose in the end.

Alberta’s public lands provide common space, particularly in densely-populated central Alberta where these lands are islands in a sea of private ownership. In the grasslands, the foothills and the boreal forest, public land provides big space. In conservation of native plants and animals big often trumps little, so the vast space afforded by public land is a bonus.

The story of the Attwater’s Prairie Chicken is a cautionary tale about the loss of public land and the space it affords. This bird, a subspecies of the now extinct Heath Hen, historically ranged over the coastal plains of Louisiana and Texas, by the hundreds of thousands. Now the species teeters on the edge of extinction, with about a hundred birds left in the wild. Of the original six million acres of coastal plain that formed grouse habitat, less than one percent is left. Virtually none of that is public land and restoration efforts are stymied by the cost of acquiring private holdings and the reluctance of landowners to implement land use changes that favor grouse.

Contrast that situation with our own imperilled bird, the Sage Grouse. In our favor, and pivotal to restoration efforts for Sage Grouse is the vast swath of publicly owned native grasslands in southeastern Alberta, within the range of the grouse (and many more species we don’t want to see disappear). If we dial back industrial disturbance, Sage Grouse are likely to thrive here again. Public lands provide Alberta a unique option for recovering the species, quickly, at low cost, one unavailable in Texas.

Instead of asking what good are public lands to Albertans, economically, ecologically and socially, we might better ask where would we be without them? In the face of an uncertain future we don’t want to preclude options, to fail to have buffers and hedges against changes we can’t yet identify. Hanging onto public lands ensures we don’t sacrifice options for the future.

Sunset Lakeland Park

Perhaps instead of asking what good are public lands, we might better ask where we would be without them?

History shows how private ownership, even when tempered by public regulation falls short of keeping landscapes healthy. The capitalist tendency to privatize, as the answer to a question unasked, has stumbled badly, producing degraded lands, lost opportunity, and increased public costs to mitigate bad decisions.

History has locked us into a legacy of past decisions. The Canadian government, in a bid to thwart American expansion and expropriation of the west- the Prairie Provinces in particular- developed plans to dispose of great tracts of public land for settlement. This included the lands provided to railroad companies to underwrite the costs of transcontinental railway construction, a method of binding together the disparate parts of the nation.

Mostly this was successful. The exceptions included lands unsuitable for cultivation and those where inadequate rainfall precluded successful farming. The latter were taken back under the public domain as tax-recovery lands. Along the slopes of the Rocky Mountains, the forests of the Eastern Slopes were also deemed to be more important as essential watersheds, rather than in private hands for logging, mining and ranching. Much of the boreal forest was unsuitable for settlement and remained public.

The massive conversion of public land, during the Homestead era and after, to private land, brought us settlement and economic progress. To a degree those former public lands, now farmed, have given us a foundation of wealth, as measured in stark ledger terms. However, the conversion of those lands also has given us declining soil fertility, increasing erosion (especially for cultivated lands), lost wetlands, degrading rivers and the transformation of landscapes with vegetative and wildlife diversity to vastly simplified ones.

Not all owners of land are rapacious, unfeeling miners of soil, vegetation and destroyers of wildlife. For many, there is an ethic of stewardship, an understanding that applying the brakes, rather than continuing to accelerate pressures on the land is beneficial. But, with the exception of some minor regulatory oversight, a land ethic on the part of landowners is a personal decision. It can be shifted by economic pressures, societal leanings and successional events. Short term economic gain often trumps long term care. There is little, or no cost, or approbation for failing to steward a piece of private land.

For users of public land for economic reasons, you abuse it at your peril. This is not to suggest all public land is free of abuse, at the hands of industry, recreationalists or lease holders. Legislation, policy and penalties are available, waiting only for the resolve to use the instruments designed to protect these lands. Arguments can be mounted, and are, that we need to take better care of public lands, resolve land use issues though effective planning and sort out public access to public lands. That these lands are still in the public domain enable us to have those debates.

Many of these public lands used to be labelled as “other unimproved lands”, as if they were somewhat deficient, wanting or inferior. As it turns out, public lands are the greatest bargain we never really planned for; somewhat by default we now have this tremendous resource.

One of the virtues of public lands is they create a benchmark, suitable to assess our judgement and decisions related to land use. How do we know who we are, if we don’t acknowledge our history? The mirror of understanding is the land, the water, the wildlife. An examination of the difference between public and private land tells us how we have treated this place called home and allows us to gauge our success at stewarding the resources of today for future generations.

Public lands may be the last frontier. In some ways what remains is an accident of history. We would be wise to view those lands as a heritage, as long as they remain public. Public ownership suggests stewardship, not exploitation and certainly not disposal.

Wallace Stegner, no stranger to public land conversion with his Saskatchewan homestead roots, made the point: “The trouble is that places work on people very slowly, but people work on places with the single- minded ruthlessness of a beaver at a cottonwood tree.” Given our continual nibbling away at the public land base in Alberta we may not yet have evolved the societal or political maturity to understand the virtues of public land.

Public land shouldn’t be viewed as a shiny bauble suitable for sale. Barring a major economic collapse, as in the 1930s, public land, once sold, is gone forever. Once you eat the cake, there’s no cake left.

When 60% of the province is in public ownership and, with some exceptions, available to Albertans, that empowers us as citizens, especially the 81% of us that live in urban areas. It is part of our heritage, a visceral part of our societal DNA. Any government that proposes a liquidation of what is ours should be viewed as rash and heavy handed, trammelling current rights and freedoms.

Progress, real progress isn’t measured solely with what we’ve acquired, with what we’ve sold, with what our economic status is, but also with what we have retained. Government, holding land in trust for the people of Alberta, needs to draw a line around public land and say, “This is public land and public land it shall stay.” Public land is surely one of Alberta’s best ideas; let’s keep it that way.

Lorne Fitch is a Professional Biologist, a retired Fish and Wildlife Biologist and an Adjunct Professor with the University of Calgary.

Comments are welcome (below); but you may also contact Lorne directly at

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Bighorn Country—A Good Idea We Shouldn’t Squander

Note: In November of 2018, Alberta Environment and Parks opened a discussion about its proposal for the protection of the headwaters of the North Saskatchewan River, or Bighorn Country, an area that has been needing protection from abuse for many years now. There is much controversy about the proposal as many don’t want to change their behavior or understand land stewardship. Concerned for the success of this proposal, a group of ad hoc retired Alberta Fish and Wildlife biologists, technicians and officers, wrote the following open letter. Please feel free to share. And if you are an Albertan with concern for Bighorn Country, please fill out the survey. The deadline is now February 15, 2019.

Don Meredith

—Open Letter—

                                                                                   January 2, 2019

The Honourable Rachel Notley                           The Honourable Shannon Phillips
Premier of Alberta                                                 Minister of Alberta Environment and Parks

Bighorn Country—A Good Idea We Shouldn’t Squander

Dear Premier Notley and Minister Phillips:

We are retired provincial Fish and Wildlife biologists, technicians and officers. Collectively, we have spent 1,106 years of our careers managing and conserving Alberta’s fish and wildlife populations. It hasn’t been easy. In retirement with no bonds to government or industry, we continue to care about the future of renewable resources and want to provide a legacy for future generations. We offer this advice on the Bighorn Country Proposal, based on our observations and experience.

The juggernaut of industrial development and agricultural expansion, the proliferation of roads and trails, the explosion in use of motorized recreational vehicles, years of political and bureaucratic neglect and the overarching issue of climate change has made the task of conserving fish and wildlife at times difficult, sometimes impossible. For those who doubt we have ongoing issues, look at the number of species at risk in this province. For example, all native sport fish species up and down the Eastern Slopes have declined, are continuing to decline and most are designated as “threatened”. That indicates our land management has failed and if we continue on the same path, one of the indicators of landscape health and a major attraction for people will disappear. That revelation should alarm all of us, not just biologists.

As part of our training and experience, we realize there are limits to our resources, and we overuse them at our peril. Unfortunately, this is not a commonly held perception, or a popular one. Our landscapes and watersheds have been neglected, we expect too much of them and they are coming apart at the seams. Less than 2% of our upper and lower foothills ecoregions are protected from industry and human destruction. Yet, these are the areas that provide our drinking water, control flood waters at their source and maintain water supply during droughts. Shouldn’t we be protecting these areas vital to our well-being now and in the future?

The Bighorn Country proposal, like the Castle and the land-use plans for the Livingstone-Porcupine Hills, is an appropriate answer to the question: What do we want of our public lands? It can’t be a free-for-all anymore. We have tested the limits and many indicators, especially fish and wildlife populations, have signalled to us we’ve exceeded ecological thresholds. To lose species that are currently threatened or endangered, or to threaten our future water supply because we can’t see beyond our own selfish wants, means we don’t understand stewardship.

The combination of Wildland Provincial Parks and Public Land Use Zones in Bighorn Country will provide a balance of recreational opportunities, while protecting the ecological integrity of the landscape, its biodiversity and source of our drinking water. The plan is not perfect and will require ongoing consultation and updating, but it is the best chance we have to conserve an important component of our Alberta wild heritage for future generations.


37 retired Alberta Fish and Wildlife biologists, technicians and officers, as follows:

Robert Adams, fish & wildlife officer/director, 1960–1993
Per Andersen, wildlife habitat biologist, 1978-87
Morley Barrett, wildlife biologist/fisheries director/ADM, 1969-2001
Ron Bjorge, wildlife biologist/director, 1975-2016
Ken Bodden, fisheries biologist, 1983-2012
Steve Brechtel, wildlife/habitat biologist, 1974-2006
David Christiansen, fisheries/habitat biologist, 1977-2014
Ken Crutchfield, habitat biologist/fisheries director, 1972-2002
Ernest “Buck” Cunningham, biologist, 1959-1965
Gary Erickson, wildlife biologist, 1966-2002
Dale Eslinger, wildlife biologist, 1984-2014
Lorne Fitch, fisheries biologist, 1971-2006
Rudy Hawryluk, technician, 1970-2009
Carl Hunt, fisheries biologist, 1964-1997
Jon Jorgenson, wildlife biologist, 1978-2015
Gordon Kerr, wildlife biologist/director/ADM, 1960-1981
Rocky Konynenbelt, fisheries technician, 1976-2016
Allan Locke, fisheries biologist, 1981-2013
Ken Lungle, wildlife biologist, 1970-2008
Bob McClymont, biologist, 1978-2011
Ray Makowecki, fisheries biologist, 1966-1997
Brent Markham, wildlife biologist, 1972-2003
Don Meredith, wildlife biologist, 1978-2002
Rod Paterson, fisheries biologist, 1959-1971
Duane Radford, fisheries biologist/director, 1966-2002
Kirby Smith, wildlife biologist, 1976-2010
Harry Stelfox, wildlife biologist, 1980-2005
Jim Stelfox, fisheries biologist, 1979-2013
John Stelfox, wildlife biologist, 1955-1966
Bob Stevenson, branch director, 1980-1992/archivist
Jim Struthers, fish & wildlife officer, 1964-1997
John Taggart, technician, 1978-2010
Bruce Treichel, technician, 1974-2010
Daryl Wig, fisheries/habitat biologist, 1978-2012
Bill Wishart, fish & wildlife biologist, 1957-1987
Hugh Wollis, wildlife biologist, 1977-2013
Ken Zelt, fisheries biologist, 1968-2000

Comments are always welcome (below).

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Braking for the Planet – Learning the Limits

Guest Blog: Continual and increasing consumption of products and services is a corner stone of our economy. Technology leads that charge. In the following essay biologist Lorne Fitch (and frequent guest blogger here) explains how the on-going pace of technology isolates us from the hard decisions that must be made to avoid catastrophic environmental, and yes, economic collapse. The piece was first published in the Alberta Wilderness Association’s Wildlands Advocate (March, 2018). Lorne’s previous essays posted here can be found by putting “Lorne Fitch” in the search box at the top of this page.

Braking for the Planet – Learning the Limits
by Lorne Fitch
Copyright © 2018

It would would have been the wildest hyperbole to have called my father a patient teacher, especially in coaching someone to drive a car. He came from a lineage where sons were expected to observe and then flawlessly perform whatever action was demonstrated. Thankfully, my mother enrolled me in a driver training course or I would still be a pedestrian.

There, under the tutelage of a very patient instructor, I learned many important driving tips, not the least of which was the idea that stop signs meant stop. They were not yield signs to motor through when the traffic seemed light. The other was the concept of leaving suitable distances between yourself and other moving vehicles to allow safe stops. I wasn’t to realize until much later what a grounding in ecology these fundamental driving tips were.

Technology has gotten in the way of good driving skills. Cruise control, a standard feature on most modern vehicles is a servomechanism that takes over the throttle of the car to maintain a steady speed as set by the driver. It is a curious bit of technology, at least as far as most of us use it. Watch, on any highway, as other drivers with cruise control engaged are reluctant to disengage it when approaching another vehicle, coming into a curve or an area of traffic congestion. Cruise control can be disengaged with a flick of a finger, yet the tendency is to keep speed up, despite looming danger. Brake lights flash at the last possible moment. Failure to disengage in a timely way can lead to unsafe and dangerous responses, collisions and death.

I offer the unsafe use of cruise control as a metaphor for our over-consumptive lifestyle. We happily give control over to a machine, are reluctant to slow down to match changing conditions and believe things will all work out. This is resource use on autopilot, mind unengaged, attention unquestioning, using things up at a speed that isn’t safe and hoping we can steer around the issues coming up much too quickly in front of our grill. Rather than cruise control, it really is cruising with little or no control.

My driving instructor instilled in me the concept of defensive driving, being observant, engaged and understanding limits. Perhaps these principles have application to how we manage the earth’s resources and our future.

OHV issues

There are limits to the amount of traffic a landscape can handle.

So, braking for the planet before the planet breaks is essential. Fundamental to this is the reality of finite limits to space, resources and energy. This is coached in a variety of terms. A tipping point happens when a small shift in pressure or condition occurs that brings about a large, often abrupt change in a system. Often synonymous with threshold, the beginning of a change, which once passed an ecosystem may no longer be able to return to its previous state because the resilience of a system is compromised. There are also regulatory limits, points in some variable up to which a risk of system change is permitted (as in legislation or policy) or accepted (as in social or economic values).

What are some safe speeds for resource use and what are the limits, tipping points, and thresholds and, where should we stop?

The concept is, before a certain point is reached, populations, habitat and ecosystems have the ability to bounce back, to rebound from pressures and stressors. Once that point is reached and exceeded, like a rubber band stretched too much, elasticity is lost, a snap occurs and the ability to rebound back to a robust form is lost.

It may be the change is dramatic, like a light switched off. Fish disappear with a chemical pollutant above a certain concentration, a swift change in the pH, an exceedance of thermal limits, or a stream drying up due to drought or diversions. For many species of wildlife, the cause is too much human traffic and the associated disturbance.

Arctic grayling population declines in the Wapiti River watershed were studied by Adam Norris for his 2012 MSc thesis. Many things can individually kill fish, but usually it is a combination which work together synergistically. The Wapiti watershed has an extensive land use footprint of logging, petroleum development, agriculture, motorized recreational uses, high road density and losses of riparian buffers. With less water came higher water temperatures; more nutrients, like phosphorus in the runoff, depleted dissolved oxygen, especially under times of low flow. High water temperatures coupled with low dissolved oxygen levels led to losses of arctic grayling in many streams. But, the critical threshold, the line between extant populations and missing ones was a threefold increase in phosphorus concentrations over pre-development levels, a function of changes from land use.

Recent University of Alberta research on the relationship between roads and grizzly bears indicated that areas with road densities greater than 0.6 km/km² had fewer bears. Areas with quality habitat and fewer roads had the most bears. Clayton Lamb, the principle researcher summarized the work with: “Not only do bears die near roads, bears also avoid these areas making many habitats with roads through them less effective.”

Other wildlife, like elk, avoid roads and areas within 500 meters of roads (and the human/vehicle traffic) which constrains effective use of habitat in landscapes with high road densities. Research on elk populations and their reaction to roads shows a threshold of 0.55 km/km², beyond which elk avoid such busy landscapes.

The change might be less dramatic, more gradual, like a dimmer switch, where a population declines on a gradient, until the light of resilience goes out. Fish and wildlife populations require a critical mass, a minimum viable number, to maintain themselves. This is expressed as the smallest number of individuals in a population capable of persisting over time without winking out from natural and human causes. Once the numbers drop below that point, the chances of successful reproduction to fill the void are overwhelmed by additive mortality, such as changes in suitable habitat conditions and/or competition with non-native species. The end happens, not with a bang, but with a whimper.

The density of roads and trails that bisect the landscape is a case in point. Roads and native trout don’t mix well. All linear features¬ roads, trails, pipelines, skid trails and the like¬ intercept runoff, capture and redirect it downhill faster, increase erosion along the way and then dump excess water and sediment into a watercourse, to the eventual dismay of trout. Fisheries biologists generally agree that the best road density to protect trout is zero roads/km².

Travis Ripley, in his MSc thesis research, found increasing road density in the Kakwa sub-watersheds from 0 km/km² to 0.6 km/km² is associated with a decline in the probability of occurrence of bull trout from 60% to 20%, a 67% drop. David Mayhood, an independent fisheries biologist, points out, based on the literature, there is no road density threshold below which there is no effect.

In stark terms this means with any road development in a watershed, the best available science shows that bull trout and cutthroat trout populations can be expected to decline. All native trout populations are at risk in the Eastern Slopes and many species like bull trout, cutthroat trout and Athabasca rainbows are “threatened”.

Highways, roads, railways and to a great extent pipelines, powerlines, logging roads and Off Highway Vehicle trails are the fracture zones, the schisms separating and impacting intact landscapes and the creatures dependent on them. Where linear density has been calculated for the Eastern Slopes, it currently exceeds 2.0 km/km² and is as high as 5.0 km/km². Clearly, these are levels that exceed limits by several orders of magnitude.

Road density can be an index for many other factors like the total human land use footprint and the overall effects of that footprint on runoff patterns in a watershed. The land use footprint affects how water flows off the landscape, when it does and the extent of runoff. Removal of forest canopy, by logging, can increase flows in the spring but result in lower late season flows. This can exacerbate both flooding and droughts. Neither benefit native fish.

A collaborative research effort, undertaken in the lower Athabasca region (that includes the Athabasca tar sands area) and published in the Environmental Review journal (2015), documented the effect of land use on flow patterns and fish. The researchers found an increased flow variability of 20% in hydrologic patterns over time from land clearing, logging, road building and mining (including the diversion of streams to accommodate tar sand removal). This shift, from land use, increased sediment loads, contributed to other changes in water chemistry, increased the flashiness of watersheds and changed base flows from pre-development conditions. The effect of this on three native, migratory fish species was a 53-100% decline in populations following a 15% change in the landscape due to the footprint of human land uses.

Prairie grasslands and many of the bird species that nest there are not immune from human footprints. Jason Unruh, in his 2015 Master’s thesis “Effects of Oil Development on Grassland Songbirds and their Avian Predators in southeastern Saskatchewan” noted effects from noise, well density, conversion of native grassland, traffic and human activity. Limiting relationships on sensitive species became apparent at a disturbance threshold of only 3% of the landscape. As Unruh pointed out: “These are not large scale disturbance factors yet they still have detectable effects on grassland songbird abundance.”

At a global scale, given current rates of greenhouse gas emissions, the temperature is projected to rise 1.5⁰C. Doesn’t sound like much; an insignificant threshold. But, with that temperature increase comes the real risk of tipping points for the melting of Arctic sea ice, the Greenland ice sheet and the Antarctic ice sheet. Melting ice causes a rise in sea levels, maybe by a meter. Again seemingly insignificant, except for people living on coast lines. Currently the storm surge risk for New York City is once every 100 years. With a one meter rise in sea level the storm surge risk for the city changes to once every three to four years, hardly insignificant.

A threshold is a line drawn in sand, that an ecologist or a climatologist says is a stop sign, not to be gone beyond without consequences and repercussions. But, the line seems so tenuous, innocuous or unbelievable that we cross it and redraw it a little further on, to allow another wellsite, road, cutblock or another degree of warming. Once we’re accustomed to crossing the line, it gets easier to cross and redraw it again, for it does not seem anything catastrophic happens. And, nothing does, initially. The effects become clear, too late, in retrospect.

Extreme weather events, plummeting populations of grassland bird species, native fish hanging on by a fin and crashing caribou numbers are all grains of sand in the beaches of evidence indicating we have exceeded critical ecological and climate thresholds in our pursuit of economic advantage.

We are at a time where too many wants compete now with too few remnants of wild places and wild things. Because we did not want to think about or engage in limits we have landscapes replete with consequences and complications. It is easier to dream than to unseat a culture drunk on the illusion of plenty, impatient with restrictions, determined to wring more from a landscape than can be done sustainably.

Our lives should provide guidance since they include speed limits (which would reduce injury and death if we adhered to them), spending limits (but credit card debt is at an all-time high), eating limits (obesity is a growing problem), drinking limits (impaired driving is still a concern), physical limits (but we engage in little exercise) and so it is probably evident why land use limits are still ignored. We would be better served to understand and observe the thresholds.

We could still be considered lucky by others in the world not so fortunate with natural resources. We can be smart and live reasonably well for much longer with a degree of ecological integrity, or continue to be profligately stupid and crater soon, with our resource exploitation cruise controls locked on full bore.

Cruise control for our cars was an invention that made us lazy and complacent in our driving habits. Ignoring or avoiding ecological limits has had a similar effect on our decision-making function for appropriate amounts of land/resource use. New cars with advanced safety systems, to help avoid or mitigate collisions are already on the market. Examples include automatic emergency braking, forward collision warning and blind-spot warning. Imagine if we applied the concept of this technology to the landscape to help us avoid approaching or crossing essential ecological thresholds.

But, it isn’t technology we need, but rather the discipline of setting and maintaining limits on our activity. How hard can it be to apply the brakes? Perhaps, if we learn to use the brakes, the next step will be to shift into reverse and begin the task of restoration of the places where we’ve exceeded the limits.

Lorne Fitch is a Professional Biologist, a retired Fish and Wildlife Biologist and an Adjunct Professor with the University of Calgary.

Comments are welcome (below); but you may also contact Lorne directly at

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