The Manitoba moose crisis is one of the most politically charged, emotionally driven, and divisive wildlife issues unfolding in Canada today. It’s a story that touches on constitutional rights, ecological stewardship, and the deep tensions between Indigenous sovereignty and provincial wildlife policy. As a conservationist and communicator, I’ve taken it upon myself to cover this story—not to take sides, but to offer a fair, objective lens through which Canadians can better understand the complex forces at play.
This article is based on a special podcast episode I produced for Wild Origins Canada. It’s structured in chapters, each offering historical context, legal insight, and reflective questions to challenge assumptions and deepen understanding. My goal is not to be the final authority, but to spark thoughtful dialogue and encourage respectful engagement with the issues.
Chapter 1: Manitoba—The Heart of a Nation’s Conflict
Moose are arguably the most socially, economically, and culturally important game animal in Canada. As Dr. Adam Ford once metaphorically put it, “All roads in Canada lead to the moose.” This isn’t a hunting tip—it’s a reflection of how deeply moose are woven into our national identity.
In Manitoba, moose populations have plummeted in several regions due to overhunting, hydroelectric development, resource extraction, and road expansion. First Nations communities such as the Misipawistik Cree Nation and Bloodvein First Nation have raised alarms, citing unsustainable license allocations and a lack of defensible population data. These communities argue that their constitutionally protected rights to hunt for food, ceremony, and culture are being undermined by provincial decisions made without proper consultation.
In response to mounting pressure, the Manitoba government initially reduced moose hunting licenses in northern units—only to reverse the decision following backlash. The Misipawistik Cree Nation filed a legal claim to halt moose harvesting in three game areas, while the Pimicikamak Cree Nation invoked the Northern Flood Agreement to assert Indigenous access to wildlife resources.
In August 2025, Bloodvein First Nation established a roadside checkpoint near Rice River Road, posting no-trespassing signs to prevent non-Indigenous hunters from entering their traditional territory. They cited years of disrespectful hunting practices and a dramatic decline in successful community hunts—only one moose was harvested last year.
The government responded within 48 hours by amending the Wildlife Act and creating a temporary buffer zone across game hunting areas 17, 17A, and 17B. This half-kilometer-wide corridor prohibits hunting along key roads for the 2025 season. The Manitoba Wildlife Federation criticized the move as a “terrible precedent,” citing a lack of consultation and scientific backing. Licensed hunters, turned away at checkpoints, are demanding refunds for their tags and licenses.
Meanwhile, the Federation is calling for urgent conservation measures, including a full hunting closure in the Duck Mountain and Porcupine Forest zones, where moose populations are 36% below the threshold that triggered closures in 2011. They also advocate for a province-wide ban on hunting female moose and calves.
First Nations and Métis leaders argue that their constitutionally protected rights must not be overridden by external organizations. Métis harvesters currently receive only four permits annually in the region. The tension between Indigenous sovereignty, conservation science, and provincial policy is palpable—and growing.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Whose knowledge do you instinctively trust more—government officials, conservation organizations, or Indigenous communities? Why?
For Indigenous readers: In what ways might non-Indigenous people feel uncertain or conflicted when trying to understand Indigenous hunting rights?
Chapter 2: Understanding Indigenous Peoples in Canada
Canada is home to over 600 First Nations communities representing more than 50 distinct Indigenous nations, alongside numerous Métis and Inuit communities. These groups are broadly categorized as First Nations, Inuit, and Métis—but each nation has its own cultural practices, governance systems, and history.
Terminology matters. A “nation” refers to an ethnic or political identity, often self-governing and recognized under the Indian Act or treaties. A “band” is a legal governmental unit within a nation, typically managing reserve lands through chief and council. A “community” is a social settlement, often synonymous with a reserve, but without distinct legal powers.
Territorial boundaries are complex and often overlapping. Conflicts between First Nations over land claims are not uncommon. Legal distinctions also exist between “status” and “non-status” Indians under the Indian Act. Status Indians are registered and entitled to specific rights and benefits. Non-status Indians may identify as First Nations but lack legal recognition due to historical policies or personal choice.
In the United States, terms like “Native American” and “tribe” are more common, though they carry their own histories and nuances. Best practice in Canada is to ask individuals how they prefer to be identified and to avoid outdated or possessive language. Terms like “Indian,” “Eskimo,” “Native,” and “tribe” are generally considered disrespectful in Canada, as are labels like “settler” or “colonizer” when referring to non-Indigenous people.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Do you view Indigenous governance structures as equal to federal or provincial governments—or as subordinate?
For Indigenous readers: In what ways might non-Indigenous people feel challenged when Indigenous governance asserts itself?
Chapter 3: Why Do First Nations Have Special Rights?
This question often arises in the context of wildlife disputes: Why do First Nations have special rights based on race? The answer is that these rights are not race-based—they are rooted in historical occupation, sovereignty, and legal agreements.
Indigenous peoples had their own legal systems, cultures, and governance long before European colonization. Their rights stem from this history, not from ancestry alone. Treaties signed with the British Crown and later the Canadian government were nation-to-nation agreements recognizing Indigenous sovereignty in exchange for peaceful coexistence.
Section 35 of the Constitution Act of 1982 affirms and protects existing Aboriginal and treaty rights. Though the section doesn’t explicitly mention hunting, it provides a legal foundation for rights that predate Canadian law. More recently, Canada endorsed the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), reinforcing commitments to self-determination, land, and cultural preservation.
Status Indians receive certain rights under the Indian Act, including tax exemptions, health benefits, and adaptations for traditional practices like hunting. These rights are not privileges—they are part of Canada’s legal and historical relationship with Indigenous nations.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Do you question why exemptions and rights exist—or assume they should apply to everyone equally?
For Indigenous readers: What values might lead non-Indigenous people to expect equal application of laws, regardless of history?
Chapter 4: Were First Nations Conquered?
Some argue that Canada “won the war” and that First Nations were conquered, so their rights should be nullified. This narrative is both historically inaccurate and deeply harmful.
Canada’s history is not a Hollywood-style conquest. While there were conflicts between Indigenous nations and European settlers, there was no sweeping war that defined Canada’s formation. Instead, Canada became a Dominion in 1867 through political separation from Britain.
Historical conflicts include the Battle of Vinland (Vikings vs. Beothuk and Dorset Inuit), the Beaver Wars (Iroquois vs. Algonquin nations), and the Mi’kmaq resistance to British encroachment. The Northwest Resistance of 1885, led by Louis Riel and Poundmaker, involved battles over land rights and cultural autonomy.
Many Indigenous nations allied with European powers during conflicts like the Seven Years’ War. These alliances shaped Canada’s territorial boundaries and relationships—not conquest.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Do you assume Canada’s formation was a clean victory over Indigenous peoples? How does that belief erase complexity?
For Indigenous readers: Why might non-Indigenous people struggle to reconcile Canada’s proud national history with Indigenous resistance?
Chapter 5: Why Do We Have to Pay for Past Injustices?
This question often arises in discussions about reconciliation. The assumption is that injustices are historical and therefore irrelevant to today’s policies. But the truth is, many injustices are recent—and their impacts are ongoing.
While working with the Tobacco Plains Band in southeastern BC, I came across a document from the 1800s where the community ceded their land rights. All but one signature was an “X”—indicating most community members could not read or write. All signatories were women, coerced into signing while the men were away hunting. When they returned, their way of life was gone.
Residential schools are another example. Children were forcibly taken from their families and subjected to assimilation policies. The last residential schools in Canada closed in 1996 and 1997. Survivors are still alive today, and the trauma continues to affect younger generations through intergenerational transmission.
Thomas King’s book, The Inconvenient Indian, critiques how Canadian policies have systematically marginalized Indigenous peoples—not through overt violence, but through legal and bureaucratic means. The Indian Act remains intact, and many assimilation policies were only abolished in 1985 and 2017.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Do you view past injustices as irrelevant to today’s policies? Have you explored the legal foundations behind Indigenous rights?
For Indigenous readers: How might non-Indigenous values like fairness and individualism shape their views on reconciliation?
Chapter 6: What Rights Do First Nations Have?
Indigenous rights in Canada are not privileges—they are legal entitlements rooted in history, affirmed by treaties, and protected by the Constitution. These include:
Aboriginal Rights: Collective rights to hunt, fish, gather, practice ceremonies, and preserve culture, stemming from historical occupation and use of the land.
Aboriginal Title: A specific right to land based on traditional use. It’s held collectively and includes decision-making authority and resource benefits.
Free, Prior, and Informed Consent: Emerging from Canada’s commitment to UNDRIP, this principle requires governments and companies to consult and obtain consent from Indigenous communities before undertaking projects that affect their lands or rights.
Section 35 of the Constitution affirms these rights, but its sparse wording has led to decades of legal interpretation. Landmark Supreme Court decisions—Calder, Sparrow, Marshall, Delgamuukw, Haida, Tsilhqot’in, and Blueberry River—have clarified the scope and application of these rights.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: How can the idea of equal rights sometimes ignore the unique rights of Indigenous peoples?
For Indigenous readers: Why might fairness, as understood by non-Indigenous people, require treating different groups differently?
Chapter 7: Can First Nations Hunters Do Whatever They Want?
A common misconception is that Indigenous hunters operate without limits. In reality, constitutional hunting rights are powerful but not absolute. They are subject to:
Geographic Boundaries: Rights are tied to treaty areas and traditional territories.
Conservation Laws: Governments can limit rights for conservation or safety, provided they justify the infringement.
Judicial Interpretation: Courts have ruled that rights must be tied to practices integral to Indigenous cultures.
Examples include restrictions on seal hunting on the Pacific Coast, endangered species protections, and salmon quotas. Disputes over night hunting in the Prairies highlight the tension between safety and cultural practice.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Do limitations on Indigenous rights make you feel tighter controls are needed?
For Indigenous readers: Could concerns about wildlife management stem from genuine conservation values rather than rejection of Indigenous traditions?
Chapter 8: Should First Nations Only Use Traditional Tools?
Some argue that Indigenous hunters should only use bows and spears. But Canadian courts have consistently upheld the use of modern tools—firearms, traps, fishing gear—as logical evolutions of traditional practices.
The Van der Peet test requires that a claimed right be integral to pre-contact culture, but the method of exercising that right can evolve. The Marshall and Morris decisions affirmed that modern technology does not invalidate constitutional rights.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: What assumptions are you making about whose technology is allowed to evolve?
For Indigenous readers: How might concerns about cultural preservation lead to double standards in expectations around technology?
Chapter 9: Do We All Live on Stolen Land?
Land ownership in Canada is complex. First Nations do not own all land, but they hold various forms of legal and cultural ties:
Reserve Lands: Held in trust by the Crown, managed by band councils.
Territories: Ancestral lands often claimed but not legally owned.
Title Lands: Legally recognized ownership, as in the Tsilhqot’in and Haida Gwaii cases.
Private Property: Some Indigenous individuals own fee-simple land like any Canadian.
Unceded land refers to territory never surrendered through treaty. According to the Royal Proclamation of 1763, all Indigenous land was considered title land until ceded.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: How does your view of ownership differ from Indigenous worldviews?
For Indigenous readers: How might individual ownership norms make it harder for others to grasp collective stewardship?
Chapter 10: Canada Signed Treaties—So Why Are There Still Disputes?
Canada has signed 70 historic treaties and 25 modern treaties. But vast areas—especially in British Columbia, Newfoundland, and parts of Quebec—remain unceded. Even where treaties exist, disputes persist over interpretation, implementation, and consultation.
Historic treaties often ceded land in exchange for rights and benefits. Modern treaties include self-government and resource management provisions. But only 364 of Canada’s 600 First Nations are covered by historic treaties.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Do you see treaties as moral commitments or legal obligations?
For Indigenous readers: What might non-Indigenous people miss about the deeper significance of treaties?
Chapter 11: Why Do First Nations Have Veto Powers?
Contrary to popular belief, First Nations do not have veto powers over government decisions. However, the Crown has a legal duty to consult and accommodate Indigenous concerns. This duty was affirmed in the Haida decision and further clarified in cases like Mikisew Cree and Tsilhqot’in.
Governments must justify infringements using legal tests like the Sparrow Test (for rights) and the Delgamuukw framework (for title). These tests aim to balance Indigenous rights with broader societal needs.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Why does mandated consultation feel threatening to some Canadians?
For Indigenous readers: How might majority-rule values shape discomfort with consultation obligations?
Chapter 12: Are First Nations Killing All the Game?
There is no evidence that Indigenous hunters are causing widespread wildlife declines. While Indigenous harvests are not tracked like licensed hunting, studies show that environmental disruption—habitat loss, climate change, industrial development—is the primary driver of population declines.
Historical examples of overharvesting—beaver, bison, cod, passenger pigeons—were largely driven by settler economies. Scholars like Dan Flores and Charles Kay have controversially argued that Indigenous groups may have contributed to wildlife declines, but these claims are debated in academic circles.
Mistrust of government might lead some Indigenous communities to withhold harvest data. Others collaborate with biologists and issue their own tags. The tension often stems from differing worldviews: communal harvesting vs. individual hunting.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Why do you scrutinize Indigenous hunting more than regulated hunting?
For Indigenous readers: How might misunderstandings about treaty rights fuel conflict with non-Indigenous hunters?
Chapter 13: Are Blockades Illegal?
Blockades are not automatically legal, but they are often used as civil disobedience when Indigenous rights are ignored. Courts weigh public inconvenience against constitutional rights. Outside activists sometimes participate, which can complicate public perception.
The law is evolving, especially with Canada’s implementation of UNDRIP. The right to restrict access depends on proven title, treaty rights, and consultation obligations.
Reflective Questions
For non-Indigenous readers: Why do you prioritize public access over Indigenous concerns?
For Indigenous readers: How might values like stability and personal freedom shape reactions to blockades?
Chapter 14: Who’s to Blame for Manitoba?
Blame is easy—but it’s not a solution. The Manitoba government has abdicated its responsibility to manage moose as a provincial treasure. Both First Nations and licensed hunters feel unheard. The government’s failure to consult and act has fueled division.
But there’s hope. When Indigenous and non-Indigenous hunters unite around conservation, they become a powerful force. A shared commitment to moose abundance—not just access—can reshape the future.
Reflective Questions
For everyone: In imagining a future without conflict, what role can education, dialogue, and stewardship play in building mutual respect and sustainable moose management?
Absolutely, Mark. Here’s a closing remarks section that aligns with your tone and purpose, wrapping up the podcast with clarity, conviction, and a call to reflection:
Closing Remarks
This article has been a journey through the tangled roots of the Manitoba moose crisis—one that reaches deep into Canada’s legal history, ecological challenges, and the lived experiences of Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities alike. I’ve tried to walk the middle path: not to take sides, but to illuminate the complexity and encourage understanding.
I know this may challenge some readers. It may stir discomfort, provoke questions, or even spark disagreement. That’s okay. My goal isn’t to tell you what to think—it’s to offer context, history, and reflection points so you can think more deeply about what’s happening in Manitoba and across Canada.
If I’ve gotten something wrong, I welcome respectful correction. I’m not an expert—I’m a communicator, a conservationist, and someone who believes that truth-seeking and dialogue are essential to solving hard problems. I’ve relied on extensive research to present this information, and I’ve done my best to be fair.
The moose crisis is not just about wildlife—it’s about relationships, rights, and responsibilities. It’s about how we share the land, how we listen to each other, and how we build a future where conservation and Indigenous sovereignty are not at odds, but in alignment.
Where Do We Go From Here?
In his book The Inconvenient Indian, Thomas King offers a piercing observation: “Governments do not want to fix the problem. They want to manage it.” I agree. And I believe the reason is power.
When Indigenous communities and licensed hunters find common ground—when they unite around shared values like conservation, respect, and stewardship—it threatens the status quo. It challenges the power structures that benefit from division. We’ve seen examples of this unity, like the collaboration between the Tahltan Nation and non-Indigenous hunters in British Columbia. When those groups came together to protect wildlife, it wasn’t just effective—it was powerful.
Blame, however, is not a solution. But accountability is. And in this case, I believe the Manitoba government has abdicated its responsibility. They are accountable to all Manitobans—First Nations, Métis, and licensed hunters alike. The moose is not a political pawn. It’s a provincial treasure, valued by everyone. Yet the government has failed to manage it as such.
At the root of this conflict is a failure to listen. The province has ignored the concerns of Indigenous communities and dismissed the frustrations of licensed hunters. Their inaction hasn’t bridged gaps—it’s widened them. It’s created a vacuum where conflict festers.
I understand the frustration behind the blockades. I understand why some communities see them as a last stand—a form of resistance when all other avenues feel closed. But I don’t condone them. The situation is too volatile. The risk of escalation is too high. We need solutions that build bridges, not barricades.
As is often the case in Canada, the courts will decide. The Manitoba moose crisis will likely be resolved not in the bush, but in the courtroom. Because the provincial government has failed to find a balance between constitutional and treaty rights and the rights of all Manitoba citizens, the Supreme Court of Canada may ultimately determine the future of moose hunting—not just in Manitoba, but across the country.
But there is a hopeful path forward. Moose matter to everyone. The real question is: can we leverage that shared value to elevate the moose as a national treasure? Can we shift the conversation from “Who has the right to kill the last moose?” to “How do we ensure there are always more moose to hunt, to see, to revere?”
The Legal Landscape Is Here to Stay
The path forward must be grounded in law, respect, and reconciliation. The affirmation of Aboriginal rights and title is not going away. These are not temporary policies or political trends. They are embedded in Canada’s legal fabric—enshrined in treaties, case law, and the Constitution.
Section 35 of the Constitution Act, 1982, affirms the existing Aboriginal and treaty rights of Indigenous peoples. Its meaning continues to evolve through court decisions, but its presence is permanent. As Chief Justice Antonio Lamer wrote in the landmark 1997 Delgamuukw v. British Columbia decision, the purpose of Section 35 is “the reconciliation of the pre-existence of aboriginal societies with the sovereignty of the Crown.”
He added, in paragraph 186:
“Let us face it, we are all here to stay.”
That simple statement carries profound weight. It reminds us that reconciliation is not about erasure or dominance—it’s about coexistence. It’s about building a shared future grounded in mutual respect, legal recognition, and negotiated solutions.
Final Reflection
So let me leave you with this:
In imagining a future without conflict over moose hunting, what role can education, open dialogue, and local stewardship initiatives play in shifting perceptions—so that Indigenous harvest practices and licensed hunting coexist under a framework of mutual respect? A framework that guarantees moose abundance and sustainable use by everyone.
After all, all roads in Canada lead to the moose.