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<\/p>\nSucculent scents of caribou, moose, muskrat and beaver \u2014 boiled, roasted and fried \u2014 waft from the kitchen. Young children chase one another around the community centre, clutching bags of dried caribou, strings of meat stuck in their teeth. The stage is set with pink iridescent streamers and the band\u2019s fiddles, guitars and drums, ready for a night of music and jigging.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Adults and youth alike give their names to a coordinator with a notebook, signing up to join in the games, including caribou head skinning, log sawing and muskrat-calling. Outside, there\u2019s still ice on the Porcupine River \u2014 break-up is late this year, locals say. There\u2019s no caribou in sight, but people know they\u2019re close by. The spring migration is underway.<\/p>\n
Several hundred people from across the North have gathered here in Old Crow, Yukon, a subarctic community at the 67th parallel, to celebrate Vadzaih Choo Drin, or \u201cBig Caribou Days.\u201d It\u2019s the 25th anniversary of the event celebrating the seasonal return of the Porcupine caribou herd, one of the largest barren-ground caribou populations in North America, as they migrate toward their summer calving grounds in Ivvavik National Park and the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in Alaska. The Gwich\u2019in refer to the calving grounds as Iizhik Gwats\u2019an Gwandaii Goodlit \u2014 the sacred place where life begins.<\/p>\n
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\nSeveral hundred people from across the North gathered in Old Crow, Yukon, this May to participate in games and celebrate the Gwich\u2019in people\u2019s relationship to the Porcupine caribou herd.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy grandparents, they taught me about caribou. They take me out to the caribou when they\u2019re coming, they show me the different age groups and tell me the names of these caribou,\u201d Randall Tetlichi, a Vuntut Gwitchin Elder, says at the opening ceremony in late May.<\/p>\n
Before he was allowed to hunt, Tetlichi had to learn how to distinguish between the big bulls, young bulls, one- and two-year-olds, pregnant females and the \u201cold females with dried-up udders\u201d who grunted up the hill behind the others. The last group was the one to harvest, he says. This knowledge of caribou traditionally guided the way the Vuntut Gwitchin managed the herd that migrates across the Porcupine River every spring and fall.<\/p>\n
\u201cOur job is to teach the young people,\u201d Tetlichi says, offering a song and prayer for vadzaih, Gwich\u2019in for \u201ccaribou,\u201d welcoming them back home to Old Crow.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted the kids to have that taste of what our grandparents worked so hard for in Crow Flats,\u201d Teresa Frost, an event coordinator with the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation (VGFN), says to the crowd, as volunteers hand out bags of caribou dry meat and bone grease.<\/p>\n
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Christine Creyke and Randall Tetlichi participate in the Big Caribou Days opening ceremony. Creyke, who is a member of the Gwich\u2019in Steering Committee, says she feels an \u201cimmense responsibility\u201d to protect the Porcupine caribou herd for future Gwich\u2019in generations.<\/p>\n
Old Crow Flats, located north of Old Crow, is a traditional place where people camp, trap muskrat and hunt for what remains their most important food source \u2014 caribou.<\/p>\n
The fate of the Porcupine caribou herd \u2014 considered one of North America\u2019s last remaining healthy herds at an estimated 218,000 animals<\/a> \u2014 is bound up with the fate of the Gwich\u2019in people. The story of the Gwich\u2019in people and caribou is a story about a multi-generational struggle to advocate for the permanent protection of the Porcupine caribou herd\u2019s calving grounds in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.\u00a0<\/p>\n But the fate of the caribou \u2014 and the Gwich\u2019in way of life \u2014 is now intricately tangled up in U.S. President Donald Trump\u2019s recent moves to expand oil and gas activity in the refuge. The refuge has long been an ideological battleground between those in favour of drilling and those against it, but with Trump at the helm, the stakes have never been higher, pitting the Gwich\u2019in people against what they\u2019re calling an unprecedented threat as they work together to protect the caribou they depend on.<\/p>\n Trump\u2019s \u2018Big Beautiful Bill\u2019 poses immediate threats to the Porcupine caribou herd<\/p>\n The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge is a richly biodiverse ecosystem covering over 78,000 square kilometres, roughly the size of New Brunswick or South Carolina. It stretches from the Brooks Range mountains to the Arctic Ocean coastline, teeming with migratory birds, grizzly and polar bears, wolves and pregnant caribou who gather together to drop gangly calves onto the tundra. For the Gwich\u2019in, it\u2019s sacred territory. Here, there are stories told about the Gwich\u2019in trading half of their heart with the heart of the caribou.<\/p>\n For decades, U.S. governments have been pushing for exploration and development within the refuge, including Ronald Reagan in 1987 and George W. Bush in the 2000s, with the goal to open up oil and gas development in an area known as \u201cthe 1002,\u201d a 6,000-square-kilometre tract of land within the refuge. The United States Geological Survey estimates there could be somewhere between 4.3 to 11.8 billion barrels of oil in the area, but no one can say for sure \u2014 3D seismic testing has never been done<\/a>.<\/p>\n For decades, the Gwich\u2019in have been organizing to prevent exploration \u2014 agreeing with Western science that finds drilling in the calving grounds would likely cause calf mortality and devastating declines in the herd\u2019s size and resilience<\/a>, which refers to its ability to cope with changes in the environment.<\/p>\n In 1988, Gwich\u2019in Elders and leaders from communities in Alaska and Canada gathered in Arctic Village, Alaska, to found the Gwich\u2019in Steering Committee with the goal of collectively lobbying U.S. policymakers for the permanent protection of the refuge. For the Gwich\u2019in it was a pivotal moment, having been divided by the border as part of colonization, to unite and strengthen their nation\u2019s collective voice.<\/p>\n For years, Gwich\u2019in advocacy worked to keep oil and gas out, while lobbying for the permanent protection of the refuge. In 2015, President Barack Obama recommended Congress designate over 49,000 square kilometres of the refuge as \u201cwilderness,\u201d\u00a0but it failed to pass<\/a>. In 2017, the political pendulum swung back with President Trump\u2019s Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, which mandated two oil and gas lease sales in the refuge to offset corporate tax cuts. Despite being slapped with a lawsuit<\/a> by the Gwich\u2019in Steering Committee in 2020, Trump held the first lease sale on Jan. 6, 2021, offering 22 tracts of land, equal to five percent of the refuge. The Gwich\u2019in people and their allies urged oil and gas companies and banks not to bid and the sale didn\u2019t go as planned. Only three companies bid, generating US$14.4 million \u2014 a long shot from Trump\u2019s estimated US$1.8 billion.<\/p>\n From 2021 to 2024, former president Joe Biden\u2019s administration sought to undo what Trump had done in the refuge, including cancelling all of the leases, citing insufficient analysis under the national Environmental Policy Act<\/a>. Despite this, Biden was still legally bound to the second lease sale laid out in the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act. In December 2024, no companies bid<\/a>. Shortly after, the state of Alaska sued the Biden administration over the cancelled leases \u2014 and in March, a judge ruled in its favour.<\/p>\n At Caribou Days in Old Crow in May, the games gave way to more sobering discussions about what Trump\u2019s re-election in January \u2014 and his executive order to \u201cdrill, baby, drill\u201d and reinstate the terminated leases<\/a> \u2014 could mean for the future of the refuge.<\/p>\n \u201cOver the next few years, more than ever, we\u2019re going to need to come together,\u201d Harold Frost Jr., deputy chief for the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation, told the crowd, warning the community about what would come to be signed into law on July 4 \u2014 Trump\u2019s \u201cBig Beautiful Bill.\u201d<\/p>\n The new budget bill \u2014 which critics argue is an extension of the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act \u2014 doubles the number of lease sales in the refuge, stipulating that four additional sales, no less than 1,600 square kilometres per lease, must take place within the next 10 years. The Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society Yukon told the Narwhal that Trump could be attempting to create market stability for oil and gas companies over a longer duration of time. Even if a democratic government were elected, it could be exceedingly difficult to change the new bill, as Biden failed to do with the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act.<\/p>\n Today, the Alaska industrial development agency, holding the reinstated seven leases in the refuge, is on the brink of undertaking seismic testing for the first time in history<\/a> \u2014 one step closer to drilling in the calving grounds.<\/p>\n \u201cWe are no longer dealing with a familiar threat,\u201d Frost Jr. told the Narwhal, after the signing of the new bill. \u201cWe are facing an administration willing to bypass reason, disregarding science and economic logic, to achieve its goal of drilling. We must organize. We must amplify our voices. We must protect this sacred place with everything we have.\u201d<\/p>\n Gwich\u2019in relationship with caribou begins \u2018in our mother\u2019s womb\u2019<\/p>\n \u201cThe first time I tasted caribou was when I was born,\u201d Tetlichi says over the sound of fiddle music and boots stomping along to the beat. He was born in Johnson Creek, 140 kilometres south of Old Crow, but moved north when he was eight years old.<\/p>\n When Tetlichi was 13 years old, he remembers camping in Old Crow Flats with his grandparents and witnessing the spring migration of the Porcupine caribou herd. He waited with a rifle and watched the caribou draw closer. He spotted an \u201colder, dry cow that didn\u2019t have a calf in her\u201d and his grandfather gave him the okay. As Tetlichi skinned the caribou and cut the ribcage, his grandfather brought over a cup and filled it with the animal\u2019s blood. He handed it to his grandson after he\u2019d finished skinning the caribou. \u201cDrink this,\u201d his grandfather said.<\/p>\n \u201cHe said, \u2018Now you can call yourself a hunter because you drank that blood and the caribou is part of you. The caribou is in your body and now you\u2019re going to understand the movement of the caribou,\u2019\u201d Tetlichi says. \u201cI felt happy and proud.\u201d<\/p>\n The Gwich\u2019in people have been intertwined with the Porcupine caribou herd for thousands of years. There is archeological evidence of their close bond at different sites across northern Yukon and Alaska, including Van Tat Gwich\u2019in Teechik, a hunting camp located 60 kilometres east of Old Crow where archeologists discovered tools made from stone, caribou antler and bone, some estimated to be 3,000 years old<\/a>.<\/p>\n When he was growing up, Tetlichi\u2019s Elders told him stories about \u201ccaribou fences,\u201d large structures built from spruce logs that measured kilometres wide at the mouth and funnelled caribou into a corral where they\u2019d be snared and speared.<\/p>\n \u201cThe whole community was part of it,\u201d Tetlichi says, referring to building the fences \u2014 carrying trees from places that were sometimes kilometres away \u2014 and also the hunt.<\/p>\n With the onset of colonization and introduction of firearms, people stopped using caribou fences. But there are 46 known caribou fence sites in Alaska and northern Yukon with seven located in Vuntut National Park to the north of Old Crow<\/a>.<\/p>\n Oil exploration to the south and north of Old Crow began in the 1950s. In the late \u201860s and through the \u201870s, Tetlichi and other men from Old Crow travelled north to work at drilling sites in the Mackenzie Delta. \u201cWe didn\u2019t question it,\u201d he says. But after a decade, he recognized the negative impacts of oil and gas on the land and people.<\/p>\n \u201cI seen it, I felt it,\u201d he says. \u201cThey\u2019re not good.\u201d<\/p>\n When the Gwich\u2019in Steering Committee formed in 1988 to lobby against oil and gas in the Porcupine herd\u2019s calving grounds in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, Tetlichi was chosen to travel to Washington, D.C., on one of the first delegations. He remembers sleeping on a church basement floor and experiencing culture shock from the city\u2019s traffic and noise. He was afraid, but Tetlichi knew he was there to talk to people about what caribou meant to the Gwich\u2019in people and what would be lost if they opened up the refuge for oil and gas exploitation \u2014 so that\u2019s what he did. He shared stories with politicians and citizens alike. Four decades later, he hasn\u2019t stopped.<\/p>\n Lorraine Netro, a Vuntut Gwitchin Elder who was born and raised in Old Crow and today lives in Whitehorse, agrees about the importance of speaking out. \u201cThe Elders in our nation asked us to educate the outside world about why we need to protect that sacred place where life begins,\u201d she says. Disturbance to the calving grounds will \u201cdestroy the caribou and destroy us as a people,\u201d she adds.<\/p>\n Netro says the sacred connection with caribou begins \u201cin our mother\u2019s womb, when we taste caribou.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n She remembers watching her mother hunt and skin caribou in Crow Flats, and the feeling of happiness, knowing they\u2019d have food to eat and new moccasins and clothing to wear. No part of the animal was wasted. Her grandmother made sinew from the tendons.<\/p>\n In the late \u201890s, Netro joined the advocacy efforts to protect the Porcupine caribou herd. In 1999, she followed in Tetlichi and other Gwich\u2019in leaders\u2019 footsteps, participating in a lobby delegation to Washington. It opened her eyes to the power of storytelling \u2014 even when they had only \u201cfive, ten minutes\u201d to speak with U.S. politicians \u2014 to change people\u2019s minds and shape policy and decision-making. The Gwich\u2019in have \u201ctouched many, many people\u201d, she says.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s part of our responsibility. It\u2019s about our future generations \u2014 seven generations and beyond \u2014 so that our children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren can be blessed to have that spiritual and sacred connection to the caribou.\u201d<\/p>\n Gwich\u2019in members and Elders have been travelling to the U.S. to advocate for caribou for decades<\/p>\n Kris Statnyk, a member of the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation, remembers watching a video<\/a> of his own grandmother, Dr. Reverend Ellen Bruce, speaking at the Gwich\u2019in gathering in Arctic Village in 1988, and family members travelling to Washington to lobby politicians. Even as a child, advocating for caribou felt like a kind of rite of passage.<\/p>\n Today, Statnyk is an Indigenous Rights lawyer based in Gitxsan Territory in northern B.C. and the co-chair of the Gwich\u2019in Council International, along with the head of delegation for the Arctic Council. He continues to work closely with Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation and a large part of that, Statnyk says, is continuing his ancestors\u2019 legacy of advocacy for the Porcupine caribou herd.<\/p>\n Despite more than a hundred years of colonization, he says, caribou continues to be a mainstay of Gwich\u2019in life, culture and food security. While the majority of other barren-ground caribou herds in Canada are threatened \u2014 their habitat fragmented by industrial development \u2014 Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation has worked to protect the Porcupine herd in Canada by negotiating their land claim agreement in 1993 and creating Vuntut National Park in 1995, protecting key habitat in Yukon where no industrial development can occur.<\/p>\n But across the border, the calving grounds in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge \u2014 and influence over U.S. politicians \u2014 has always remained something the Vuntut Gwitchin can\u2019t directly control, Statnyk says, and now, perhaps, more than ever.<\/p>\n He travelled to Old Crow in May to speak at Caribou Days and take part in the festivities and discussions on the urgency of the times.<\/p>\n \u201cSeismic activity could be happening in [the refuge] within a year \u2014 that\u2019s just the reality,\u201d Statnyk says. \u201cWe haven\u2019t really come close to that before. We can try to slow down the regulatory process and dissuade companies and banks from supporting projects in that area, but it\u2019s difficult to prevent this U.S. administration from greenlighting things they want.\u201d<\/p>\n Oil and gas development in the sacred calving grounds in the refuge is \u201ca clear violation\u201d of the Gwich\u2019in people\u2019s rights to self-determination as expressed in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Statnyk says. (While the U.S. has officially endorsed the declaration since 2010, it is not legally binding. Today, Indigenous groups are calling on Trump to operationalize the declaration.) In addition, the U.S. is failing to to implement its responsibility to consult with Gwich\u2019in and other Indigenous communities in Canada, as stipulated in the Canada-United States agreement on Porcupine caribou conservation, a treaty signed in 1987<\/a>.<\/p>\n \u201cOn the Canadian side, we\u2019ve never, ever been invited directly [by the U.S. government] to participate in any of these regulatory processes,\u201d Statnyk says. \u201cIt\u2019s always been on our own initiative where we\u2019re asserting and showing up.\u201d<\/p>\n Despite the political situation they\u2019re up against, Statnyk is heartened by the legacy of relationships that have been built over the past decades with people, politicians and communities in the Lower 48 and across Canada.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re always told [by our Elders] to go out and make friends, to do this in a \u2018good way,\u2019 \u201d Statnyk says. \u201cIt means a lot of things for how we conduct ourselves, even when people are making decisions as if we don\u2019t exist, or don\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/p>\n The long game has always been the permanent protection of the coastal plain, which requires congressional legislation, but it\u2019s a goal the Gwich\u2019in remain committed to.<\/p>\n \u2018I\u2019m up here hauling all my water to soak my hides. We don\u2019t need all of this gas\u2019<\/p>\n Christine Creyke, a member of the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation and Tahltan First Nation, carefully hangs her caribou and moose hides on a spruce beam outside her home in Old Crow, lovingly inspecting each one. Days, weeks, months of physical work went into processing these hides: fleshing, scraping, wringing, softening and smoking.<\/p>\n When she\u2019s working on hides, Creyke feels a strong sense of identity and community.<\/p>\n \u201cThere are conversations that happen around hide work in terms of culture and what it means to be Indigenous,\u201d Creyke says. \u201cThese relationships, both the ones made between people working on hides together and the ones made between people and caribou through the process of hide tanning are important for healthy communities.\u201d<\/p>\n Every hide is unique, she explains, pointing to a cream-coloured caribou hide pricked with small holes. The holes look like stars scattered against the night sky. They\u2019re scars from warble flies, parasitic flies that lay their eggs in the legs of caribou. The hatched larvae migrate onto the caribou\u2019s back where they feed off the animal, causing major energy losses.<\/p>\n \u201cI want to sew something special with this,\u201d Creyke says, handling the scarred hide with affection. \u201cI always try to think about the animal and honour what they endured.\u201d<\/p>\n As a result of climate change and warming temperatures, warble flies may be developing earlier in the summer, which could harm caribou \u2014 particularly during the calving season. Creyke is worried how cumulative pressures from oil and gas, along with climate change, could impact herd resiliency<\/a>.<\/p>\n In 2024, Creyke, who works as the lands manager with Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation, was appointed on behalf of Old Crow to serve on the Gwich\u2019in Steering Committee and advocate for the Porcupine caribou herd. It\u2019s been a huge learning curve to navigate U.S. politics and the environmental assessment process in Alaska, Creyke says, but it\u2019s one she\u2019s embracing. In addition, Creyke was recently appointed to the Gwich\u2019in Council International.<\/p>\n \u201cI feel immense responsibility,\u201d she says, acknowledging the support and inspiration of her mentors, including Netro and Norma Kassi. Kassi, a member of the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation who was raised in Old Crow and today lives in Whitehorse, served as an MLA for Old Crow from 1985 to 1992 and has travelled around the world advocating for the Porcupine caribou herd.<\/p>\n Creyke points out the disparities that exist between northern and southern communities, particularly when it comes to drilling for oil and gas in the sacred calving grounds on the Alaska side, as well as their wintering grounds in the Eagle Plains Basin, south of Old Crow, on the Canadian side.<\/p>\n Chance Oil and Gas, a Canadian-owned company, currently holds eight oil and gas leases in the Eagle Plains Basin on 4,000 square kilometres of the Porcupine herd\u2019s wintering grounds.<\/p>\n \u201cI see these huge mega oil and gas projects as part of a way to fuel a world that is so far removed from ours,\u201d Creyke says. \u201cThere\u2019s just so much energy consumption in the world. I\u2019m up here hauling all my water to soak my hides. We don\u2019t need all of this gas. What I need is for my hides to be soft, and my caribou herds to be healthy, and my freezer to be full.\u201d<\/p>\n She points to the startling declines of other barren-ground caribou herds in Canada, including the Bathurst herd in the Northwest Territories, which plummeted from 470,000 in the mid-1980s to 6,240 today. There is no harvest of the Bathurst herd allowed in the Northwest Territories, while a limited hunt is permitted in Nunavut.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t imagine what that means for people who relied on their herd for everything \u2014 food, clothing, culture and way of being,\u201d Creyke acknowledges. \u201cWhen I think about my kids and them wanting to work on hides in the future, \u2026 I have to do this advocacy work now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2018Trump\u2019s not going to stop\u2019: Gwich\u2019in people organize to fight back for the caribou<\/p>\n Across the U.S.-Canadian border in the Gwich\u2019in community of Arctic Bay, Alaska, Kristen Moreland, executive director of the Gwich\u2019in Steering Committee, was devastated to receive the news of the \u201cBig Beautiful Bill\u201d mandating four new lease sales in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.<\/p>\n \u201cHearing it was four more lease [sales] has our people on edge. Trump\u2019s not going to stop,\u201d Moreland says. \u201cBut that\u2019s just going to make us work even harder to advocate for our land. With everything going on in this world, we need to stand together more than ever to protect the Iizhik Gwats\u2019an Gwandaii Goodlit \u2014 the sacred place where life begins.\u201d<\/p>\n Recently, the steering committee announced an emergency Gwich\u2019in gathering in Arctic Village on Sept. 4 for Gwich\u2019in communities to come together to explore options \u2014 raising awareness, lobbying companies and financial institutions or taking legal action \u2014 for how to move forward as a unified front. Moreland says that\u2019s critical to hear from Elders.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s going to be like our first Gwich\u2019in gathering in Arctic Village in 1988 when our Elders came together from Canada and Alaska, to come in solidarity for the opposition of oil and gas,\u201d she says. \u201cOur Elders need to guide us, right now more than ever, because they know what\u2019s at stake.\u201d<\/p>\n Gwich\u2019in communities are already feeling the loss of another vital food source, Moreland points out. Much like caribou, salmon have sustained Gwich\u2019in and other Indigenous communities for millennia. But the collapse of different salmon populations in the North has resulted in empty freezers and pantries. Many communities haven\u2019t been able to fish for the past five years. In 2024, a transboundary seven-year moratorium on fishing salmon in the Yukon River was implemented<\/a>.<\/p>\n Eighty percent of the Gwich\u2019in diet comes from the land, Moreland says, with caribou being the most important source of meat. They can\u2019t afford to lose another critical food source.<\/p>\n \u201cThe caribou are not just a species to us. They\u2019re essential to our food security and our survival. It\u2019s not a metaphor. It\u2019s lived reality.\u201d<\/p>\n According to the Big Beautiful Bill, the first oil and gas lease sale in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge must occur before July 4, 2026, with the others to follow over the next nine years.<\/p>\n Despite the gravity of what this means for the fate of the Porcupine caribou herd \u2014 and the Gwich\u2019in people \u2014 Moreland says their resolve to continue fighting for the protection of the calving grounds is stronger.<\/p>\n \u201cNo amount of money can justify what is taking place, and we will continue to stand up to anyone who seeks to contribute to this destruction of our sacred lands,\u201d Moreland says. \u201cWe have a lot of people on our side. We will not stop fighting. We\u2019re Gwich\u2019in Strong.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Succulent scents of caribou, moose, muskrat and beaver \u2014 boiled, roasted and fried \u2014 waft from the kitchen.…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":81726,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[26],"tags":[49,48,66,323],"class_list":{"0":"post-81725","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-wildlife","8":"tag-ca","9":"tag-canada","10":"tag-science","11":"tag-wildlife"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/81725","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=81725"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/81725\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/81726"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=81725"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=81725"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=81725"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"This](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-0627-WEB.jpg\"\/)
A fly-in subarctic community at the 67th parallel, Old Crow, Yukon, is built along the banks of the Porcupine River. Every spring and fall, the community welcomes back the migration of the Porcupine caribou herd.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/NAT-Old-Crow-Map-Parkinson-1024x998.jpg\"\/)
The Canada-U.S. border looms large in the fight to protect the Porcupine caribou herd, which crosses the border during its annual migrations. (Map: Shawn Parkinson \/ The Narwhal)<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1148032-WEB.jpg\"\/)
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\nDried caribou meat is distributed at the Old Crow Community Centre. For decades, Gwich\u2019in people have organized to resist oil and gas drilling in caribou calving grounds \u2014 a fight they vow to continue as U.S. president Donald Trump pledges to \u201cdrill, baby, drill.\u201d<\/p>\n![\"Two](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1169975-WEB.jpg\"\/)
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\nCommunity members compete to make a fire and boil tea the fastest. This year, the festive atmosphere at Big Caribou Days gave way to more sobering discussions about what U.S. president Donald Trump\u2019s re-election could mean for the future of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, which provides habitat the Porcupine caribou herd depends on.<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1147879-WEB.jpg\"\/)
Randall Tetlichi remembers hunting caribou with his grandfather when he was 13 years old. \u201cThe caribou is a part of you,\u201d he recalls his grandfather telling him. \u201cI felt happy and proud,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n![\"Two](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1148597-WEB.jpg\"\/)
Community members skin caribou heads as part of Old Crow\u2019s Big Caribou Days festivities. The caribou head is considered a delicacy by the Gwich\u2019in people.<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1148715-WEB.jpg\"\/)
Alice Vittrekwa (right) made quick work of her caribou head during the head-skinning competition at Caribou Days \u2014 she finished in under three minutes.<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/AtsushiSugimoto_OldCrow_2016-05-10_0657_3.jpg\"\/)
Every spring, the Porcupine caribou herd fords the Porcupine River on its way to its calving grounds. Photo: Atsushi Sugimoto<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/OldCrow_2016-05-10_0761_2.jpg\"\/)
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\nIn the 1990s, the Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation worked to create Vuntut National Park, which protects key habitat for the Porcupine caribou herd in Yukon. But the First Nation can\u2019t easily influence what happens in the herd\u2019s calving grounds across the border in Alaska. Photos: Atsushi Sugimoto<\/p>\n![\"Seen](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1159545-WEB.jpg\"\/)
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\nThe Fort McPherson Jiggers perform at the Old Crow Community Centre during Caribou Days.<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1170675-WEB.jpg\"\/)
When Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation lands manager Christine Creyke works with caribou hides, she always tries to \u201cthink about the animal and honour what they endured.\u201d<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1170984-WEB.jpg\"\/)
Christine Creyke shows her hides in her grandfather\u2019s smokehouse. Creyke notes that the oil and gas projects threatening the Porcupine caribou herd \u201cfuel a world that is so far removed from\u201d the Gwich\u2019in one. \u201cThere\u2019s just so much energy consumption in the world,\u201d she says. \u201cWe don\u2019t need all of this gas.\u201d<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/CaribouDays-1170401-WEB.jpg\"\/)
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\nGwich\u2019in communities on both sides of the Canada-U.S. border are organizing to fight back against a proposed expansion of oil and gas drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. A gathering to explore options is scheduled to take place on September 4, 2025.<\/p>\n