What do you know about the North American Wildlife Conservation Model?

I attended a gathering of outdoor writers on the weekend and was privileged to have a chance to listen to a lecture given by Shane Mahoney; wildlife biologist; and crusader for sustainable wildlife management and conservation throughout North America http://www.conservationforce.org/directorsmahoney.html .

Early in his talk Shane mentioned the North American Wildlife Conservation Model and asked who was familiar with the model or the associated story. Now I tend to consider myself well studied in the field of sustainable wildlife and habitat management, but few, including me, had much knowledge of the topic at hand.

There in lays the problem. You see, every one of us benefits directly and indirectly from this model; in fact without it most indigenous wildlife species that we enjoy in Canada and the United States would have been obliterated before the start of the 20th century. That includes elk, pronghorn antelope, bison, deer, and many waterfowl species.

Of even greater concern is that it is very likely that our elected representatives in Canada – federal or provincial – also have no knowledge of the model, its ramifications, or the debt owed to all wildlife conservation organizations; particularly hunters and anglers. They must be educated! I only mention Canadian politicians because this is one place that the Americans are way ahead of us. In fact last August an Executive Order directly from President Bush for the facilitation of hunting heritage and wildlife conservation measures was given to federal agencies to review and enhance hunting opportunities and the management of game species and their habitat: http://6fbd21e64bc817fd097aa54148bd3dab37bc10ee.gripelements.com/documents/whitehouseonhunting.pdf .

In short the model came about as a result of our forefathers concern over the rapid depletion of game throughout the North American continent. Like minded outdoorsmen – primarily hunters and anglers – became concerned over the wanton killing of animals (such as the decimation of buffalo herds on the prairies) and uncontrolled market hunting. At the forefront of this group was none other than Prime Minister Sir Wilfred Laurier and President Theodore Roosevelt, who’s love of wild places ensured that wildlife conservation attained the prominence and importance that it deserved.

Prior to the development of the North American Wildlife Conservation Model there were virtually no laws governing the taking of game. There were no seasons, there were no penalties, there were no conservation officers, and there was an insatiable market for furs, feathers, and wild meat…certainly a bad combination for wild birds and animals.

Even though the model was and is driven by hunting and angling enthusiasts and organizations, every one of us reaps the benefits.

Stay tuned as over the next while I expand upon the model and the importance of drastically elevating the importance of wildlife conservation and sustainable management.

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Ontario Family Fishing Weekend - February 23, 24

Ice fishing is a great way to get the whole family involved in an enjoyable outdoors activity. Minister of Natural Resources Donna Cansfield has once again designated February 23 and 24 to be Family Fishing Weekend in Ontario.

The best thing of all is that for those two days no license is required allowing everyone to experience the thrill of hauling fish through the ice.

Sponsors of the Family Fishing Weekend include the Canadian Sportsfishing Industry Association, the Canadian National Sportsfishing Foundation, the Northern Ontario Tourist Outfitters Association, and Fisheries & Oceans Canada.

For more information about events that are taking place in your region check out the Family Fishing Weekend website at http://www.familyfishingweekend.com/ .

Stay warm and happy fishing.

Letters to Smed - The Ice Hut (conclusion)

Hey Smed,

Well I got the gear packed and just sipping a coffee waiting for Sam to show up. I promised him that he can check emails on the way up in return for leaving early...

"Sam arrived later that night and following the light of our lantern slipped his way across the ice to the hut. Being the perpetrator of the scheme to build the ice hut it was no surprise that he would not believe the evil that lurked within the thing and embraced it with open arms. There was an instant bond between man and hut as Sam gently caressed the dented roof.
All in all it was a good weekend although with the sudden drop in temperature the fishing activity followed suit. Memories of our trials and tribulations waned and, with lots of coaching from Sam, we even started to like the damn hut. That is until it came time to leave! You see, in his exuberance Smed had pushed wet slushy snow around the base of the hut when the temperature started to drop and the wind started to rise, to keep the wind out of the hut. Seemed like a good idea at the time but let’s see; -25 plus slush…hmmm…

You guessed it, Red-Green was frozen solid as a rock and refused to budge; again. Off we trundled to the cottage, returning a short time later manned with pry bars, ropes, and axes. The ice chips flew and the wood groaned but slowly the hut was extricated from the icy fingers that seemed determined to hold on until spring. Of course by now we were in the middle of a full-blown blizzard that rolled in suddenly off of Lake Huron. Man, we worked like dogs; pushing, pulling, prying, slipping, spinning our way back to shore. Finally with a final roar from the sled and one great shove Red-Green rested at the top of the slope, near the old outhouse. How appropriate!

The hut could give us no more grief now, yet if you looked closely I swear you could see the small windows narrow with a subtle demonic grin, and with one last puff of smoke we were left wondering what was in store for next year. Maybe we should leave well enough alone and turn it into a sauna."

Here he is now, guess we'll see you in a couple of hours. Is the hut out yet, or dare I ask?

Ed

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Letters to Smed - The Ice Hut (cont'd)

Hey Smed,

I just had the stew simmering and was reading a story about how Tom Sawyer whitewashed the fence and got to think'in about old Red/Green again...

"Now I want you to envision the scene. We’re sitting on top of a slight slope at the edge of the lake. The lake is obviously frozen solid, in spite of the mild temperatures. Remember that it’s been raining all day and there is now a film of water on top of the already slippery ice. The drop-off where we want to drag the hut to is about ½ km from our present location. We are pulling the hut, which is indeed quite solid, with a sled that has a rubber track and no studs. Need I say more?

In hindsight the logical thing would have been to head for the cottage, relax, and decide upon the best course of action. That, of course, is not what men on a mission do. Smed sneered at the hut as he revved the engine of the sled and ever so slowly the damn hut crested the final slope. Getting up a good head of steam going down the slope we surged out onto the ice with Red-Green once again swaying behind the sled. I must admit that it appeared as if our troubles were indeed over as Smed accelerated away from us while we focused all our attention on trying to stay on our feet.

Half way to our fishing hole the damn hut managed to bring the sled to a halt once again. Water was spraying every which way as Smed revved the engine once again, but the hut refused to move. With Don pushing on the hut and me adding extra traction to the sled we must have made a great sideshow for the other cottagers as we managed to inch our way to our destination.

It always amazes me how quickly adversity becomes nothing more that a good laugh once the adventure ends. A few drams of Scotch helped us realize that it was all just a calamity of errors and not worthy of much additional thought. Or was the damn hut merely getting its second wind.

As the temperature dropped suddenly that evening—from +5c in the afternoon to -25c by 9:00 that evening-- Red-Green did provide us with the necessary heat to thaw our frozen fingers and toes. In fact it was down right balmy. No, I should rephrase that, “The damn hut was damn hot.” It seemed as if the stove was proving to be as temperamental as the hut. It was either too cold or too hot, but never the right temperature."

Well I better get back to stir'in before the stew starts to smoke. I wouldn't want you boys to have any complaints.

Catch ya later,

Ed

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Letters to Smed - The Ice Hut (cont'd)

Hey Smed,

Just came up from checking my gear. Found out why my reel stopped working last winter. Seems that plastic gears don't like -30 degree temps. We should give Sam a call to remind him to pick up his license...

"Little more was said as we packed our belongings onto the remaining sled and filled our hands with the rest. We were at a place where the road narrows even farther and becomes uneven, when we first laid eyes on Red-Green. Its windows peering like two defiant eyes as it teetered on top of a ridge of snow at an awkward angle. There was a sharp bend in one corner of the roof. When I asked Smed what happened, all he said was, “Hit a dam tree!” I jokingly queried as to whether the sled broke before or after he hit the tree. “Right after,” he said. We all stared at the hut but didn’t say another word.

Deciding that further discussion might prove hazardous and that discretion might be the best option at this point, we blasted off toward the cottage, unloaded our luggage and then back down the road we plodded to see if we could convince the dam hut, as it was now affectionately known, to follow us to the lake.

Smed manned the remaining sled and slowly took up the slack as we sunk in our heels and pushed at the back. After a slight protest it was off again, swaying from side-to-side down the road. I’m not sure, but judging by the way that he was driving, Smed seemed determined to turn the dam hut into firewood. He rounded the final bend near the cottage, and with the lake was only a few meters away Red-Green slammed the brakes on once again.

Snow had piled so high at the front of the hut that it brought the sled to a grinding halt. The challenge was now personal. The hut had already ruined Smed’s favorite machine and elevated his blood pressure to unimaginable heights, but the battle of wills continued. Normally calm, calculated and collected Smed’s eyes glowed and became almost demonic. Blue smoke belched from the sled as Smed was clearly determined to win the battle. Those of us that were still somewhat grounded in reality rushed to the sled and convinced him to concede this one to the hut before we had no sleds to use at all.

Out came the shovels and soon we were ready to edge onto the ice. Smed was convinced by this time that the hut was alive and hated him. Even though the ice was a good foot thick he was sure it must be doomed to sink."

Well Smed ole' buddy I'm off to pick up some supplies...won't be long now!

Ed

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