MONTREAL—In Hamish’s case, it was the middle of a brutally unforgiving winter when he was found shivering under the patio of the local radio station.

Just a few weeks old, mostly fur — but mercifully still rotund with baby fat — Hamish had somehow strayed from his mother and the rest of the litter only to find himself alone.

In the windswept isolation of northern Quebec, half-wild strays like him are a dime a dozen, with no one to care for them. They might find a pack to roam in. They might die of cold or starvation — or at the barrel of a long-gun-toting hired dog killer.

As it happened, Hamish was found under that patio and adopted by someone eagerly waiting for him in the south — thanks to a young organization run by a Quebec couple who saw the northern dogs’ plight and sought to find a solution by helping families in the south adopt them.

Their group, Les Chiots Nordiques (Northern Puppies), ultimately seeks to end the overpopulation of these northern breeds — which were traditionally sled dogs — through sterilization.

But setting up something like that in a region where there are no veterinarians will take time.

Meanwhile, the dogs — typically husky and malamute mixes — are dying from the elements, a lack of food, and cull campaigns when there get to be too many of them.

When they run in packs, they can become aggressive, so from time to time Inuit band councils hire “dog killers” — hunters who simply shoot any dog they see running about, says group founder Cathy Samson.

“I have an unconditional love for animals; it’s part of my personality,” Samson says. “So to observe what was happening and do nothing, I wasn’t capable of that. I had to find a way.”

Traditionally, sled dogs were used for transport and hunting expeditions in the North, said André Roy, Samson’s partner who helps run Les Chiots Nordiques. But today fewer people hunt, especially with sled dogs, and a major mode of transport is the snowmobile.

The dogs are often not owned by anyone and commonly run in packs that can become aggressive when food is scarce.

Hamish arrived in Montreal after a terrifying hours-long plane ride from Kawawachikamach, about 2,000 kilometres to the northeast. At first he refused to come out of his cage.

But he eventually warmed to 26-year-old Daibhid Fraser, who lives on a farm in southwestern Quebec. Fraser, who is completing a graduate degree in literature and is fond of duck hunting, had wanted to get a dog for a few years and was interested in northern breeds.

“He was very nervous and frightened at first,” Fraser said of their first encounter at Montreal’s airport cargo terminal. “But soon we hit it off. He had a snooze and calmed down. He released his stress finally and peed on me on the drive home.”

Now Hamish is eight months old and 34 kilograms. He’ll probably reach 45.

These big, strong dogs “have an independent nature about them,” Fraser says. “He can go off in the bush for a half-hour and I know he’s okay.”

Samson, an occupational therapist who lives with Roy in Quebec’s Laurentians, first learned about the dog problem when she was in Kawawachikamach on work contracts.

The group, which finds dogs in that community and in Puvirnituq, is so new it doesn’t yet have charity status.

But since last November, it has adopted out 80 animals to owners in Quebec and one in New York.

Adoptive families pay only the transport, plus a few extra dollars for cage maintenance and food. It amounts to about $200.

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The ultimate goal is to open a sterilization clinic, perhaps staffed with vet volunteers.

A lack of veterinary services available in remote regions helps make northern and First Nations dogs a problem across the country, experts say.

But groups have recently come together to try to improve the situation nationally, said Jan Hannah, senior research and education coordinator with the International Fund for Animal Welfare.

Hannah runs responsible dog-ownership education sessions in eight communities around James Bay. Two veterinarians accompany her in the spring to spay and neuter dogs.

While this has helped control the populations in these communities, the problem Canada-wide is still “huge,” said Hannah, based in Guelph.

Earlier this month, Quebec Premier Jean Charest apologized for the government’s role in the slaughter of sled dogs from 1950 to 1970. The apology came after a judge’s report found there were more roaming dogs following a policy to send Inuit children to school closer to the south, forcing the relocation of families into settlements.

Stéphane Tadros has adopted two northern puppies, Inuk and Max.

“I admire Cathy and André enormously,” he said. “They’re doing exactly the right thing to respect these animals. Their goal is not to adopt them but to control the population.”

But the breed is not for everyone, he warns. They’re not meant to live in an apartment in the city.

“They’re big and strong and can be apt to fight,” he says. “They’re close to wolves. They’re nice to humans but it’s hard to control them if they see a deer or rabbit. You will no longer exist to them.”

Still, they deserve a chance to live, says Lyne Savard, who also adopted two dogs.

“They’re giving a chance to an animal to find a home,” Savard says. “It’s an act that comes from the heart.”

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