Prairie Trappers Face Devastating Losses as Wildfires Scorch Traditional Lands

For generations, the rhythmic pursuit of trapping has been more than a livelihood for many Indigenous families on the Prairies; it's a profound connection to land, heritage, and a way of life. But this year, an inferno of wildfires has swept across Manitoba's pristine forests, leaving a trail of devastation that has profoundly impacted these traditional trappers.

The blaze didn't just consume trees; it devoured traps, vital equipment, cherished cabins, and the very spirit of a practice passed down through centuries.

Ernest McIvor, a seasoned trapper from Poplar River First Nation, stands as a poignant example of this widespread tragedy. The wildfires, particularly one near Lake Winnipeg's eastern shore, didn't spare his family's trapline.

He lost everything: his father's and grandfather's traps, his own meticulously maintained gear, and the essential supplies that fueled his annual expeditions. "My income is gone now," McIvor laments, his words echoing the despair felt by many who rely on the land's bounty. The emotional toll of losing heirlooms, specifically his grandfather's traps, is immeasurable, representing a severed link to his ancestral past.

The scale of destruction extends beyond individual losses.

Earl Traverse, another dedicated trapper and the secretary-treasurer for the Poplar River Trappers Association, paints a grim picture. He estimates that as many as a dozen trappers in the community have suffered significant damage, with some losing an average of 40-50 traps each. The financial burden is immense, with a single marten trap costing around $40.

Beyond the tangible assets, the wildfires have also driven away the very animals trappers depend on—marten, beaver, lynx, and otter—further jeopardizing future seasons.

The impact is particularly acute for older trappers like Robert Traverse, who, at 80 years old, faces an uncertain future.

His camp, a sanctuary and base of operations, was completely incinerated, along with all his equipment. These losses are not merely economic; they represent the erosion of a cultural cornerstone. Trapping is a practice that instills patience, bush knowledge, and a deep respect for nature, skills that are becoming increasingly difficult to pass on when the infrastructure for doing so is destroyed.

As the smoke clears, a stark reality remains: the path to recovery will be arduous and long.

These fires, fueled by changing climate patterns, are not just a one-off event but a growing threat to traditional livelihoods and ecosystems. For the trappers of Manitoba, the fires have stolen more than just their tools; they have stolen a piece of their heritage, leaving them to grapple with both the physical and emotional scars of a devastating season, urging for recognition and support to rebuild what was lost.