Publisher’s Note

Nothing in isolation. It’s a guiding philosophy for World Wildlife Fund Canada, but it’s not one we came up with on our own. We, of course, learned it from nature. 

An ecosystem — from rainforests and grasslands to kelp forests and watersheds — thrives through complex interactions between plants, animals, microorganisms, rock, soil, water, air, and weather. Nothing in an ecosystem exists in isolation, and for conservation to work, our actions must be similarly interconnected if we want there to be — as this issue of Alternatives Journal is themed — a Future of Us. 

Biodiversity loss and climate change — the dual crises currently threatening this future, are inextricable from one another. Human activities drive both, but they also feed each other. Habitat loss, for instance, puts wildlife at risk while reducing carbon absorption from the atmosphere. This, in turn, heats the planet, causing further habitat loss as wildfires rage, sea ice melts, heat waves and droughts spread, superstorms surge and the ocean acidifies. 

But that is just one potential future. It does not have to be ours. Because reversing nature loss can also reduce both crises.

Our vision for the future is a resilient one with abundant wildlife, expanded habitats and prosperous communities. A future where the threat of species extinction fades while ecosystems regenerate and nature returns to cities and suburbs. Where the risks of weather-related disasters are reduced, temperatures stabilize, industry pursues sustainable practices and climate anxiety loosens its grip on our youth, because they can finally see a future for themselves.

The question is: how do we get there? 

Well, we know that more nature provides more habitat, and stores more carbon. We know that one-third of the planet’s remaining intact wilderness is nestled between our three oceans, and how we steward these lands and waters will have a local, national and global impact. And we know that nature-based solutions, including protecting those carbon stores, can tackle the climate and biodiversity crises at the same time. But we still need to know where to best direct our efforts.

Siobhan Mullally digs into the science of carbon mapping, and a project WWF-Canada and McMaster University’s Remote Sensing Lab has just completed that aims to measure carbon sequestration in soil. Once we know where our largest carbon stocks are located, we can enact the most effective conservation policies to help us achieve climate targets while protecting the most at-risk species and stave off population declines.. 

One of the regions we’re mapping is Mushkegowuk, also known as the Hudson and James Bay Lowlands. It has a vast complex of peatlands containing an estimated billions of tonnes of stored carbon potentially under threat of being released by industrial activities in the mineral-rich Ring of Fire.

In this issue’s “Returning to Muskeg” cover story, Cree ethnobotanist Jazmin Pirozek takes us deeper into these peatlands by sharing personal, evocative experiences of herself and her grandfather. She reveals it as a place of food, fertility, culture and medicine — one that is still being colonized, with development threatening Indigenous identity as well as globally significant biodiversity and emissions targets. 

The story is a stark reminder that who stewards nature is a critical part of the equation. Indigenous-led conservation, the most effective and equitable means to safeguard our environment and progress reconciliation, is a future we should all be envisioning. 

Supporting Indigenous partners, knowledge and guidance is not only the right thing to do; it is also the best thing to do. As Melanie Ritchot writes in her look at the proposed Aviqtuuq Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area in Nunavut, a 2019 UBC-led study of Canada, Brazil and Australia found, unsurprisingly, the regions with the highest biodiversity are Indigenous-managed lands. 

Taking readers to Taloyoak, NU, the most northerly part of the continental mainland, Ritchot speaks to hunters and scientists about how an IPCA would improve food security and protect Inuit culture while safeguarding species, providing economic alternatives to resource extraction and helping the Canadian government meet its High Ambition Coalition commitment to protect 30 per cent of land and water by 2030.

Melting ice and the resulting ship traffic is one of the reasons why an Aviqtuuq IPCA, which would include both terrestrial and marine protections, is needed. Of course, shipping is a potential threat to wildlife regardless of latitude. Alexandra Scaman lays out the threats and solutions that would allow us to keep our economies moving while ensuring whales and other marine wildlife can continue to do the same.

Ultimately, identifying threats and solutions is what conservation is all about. Emma Bocking’s dive into Priority Threat Management efforts in New Brunswick’s Wolastoq watershed,  reveals how this new approach, developed by UBC researchers, balances threats and solutions to “conserve the most for the least” cost, as quickly as possible. 

Time is, after all, of the essence. Zack Metcalfe’s “We Called Them Penguins”  look at the East Coast’s Great Auk, extinct since the last breeding pair were killed in 1844, lays out what’s at stake if we don’t protect at-risk species. His study of the whooping crane, a species that had fallen to 14 individuals and is now “recovering with remarkable vigour,” shows what happens when we do.

These two species stories illustrate how the choices we make right now will determine which future we will see.  Admittedly, it can feel overwhelming. But an interview with one of my predecessors — WWF-Canada’s President Emeritus, Monte Hummel, who started in 1978 (when we only had three staff!) — was a good reminder that the past can serve as inspiration. He  reflects on four decades of conservation, how far we’ve come, and provided this simple, yet crucial, piece of advice: “We have to set out what needs to be done, and then have the confidence and ambition to do it.”

Yes, we have a long way to go and a lot more to do. But I hope that what you take away from these stories is that if we can work together — if we can act like an ecosystem — we can reverse nature loss, reduce climate change, restore biodiversity, and assure a bright future, for all of us.