The spraying of herbicides on replanted forests is raising alarm among First Nations people from west of Blind River to north of Cartier.

On Friday, a demonstration was held on Highway 17 at the Mississauga First Nation involving members of the Traditional Ecological Knowledge elders group and supporters from Sudbury who launched a petition against aerial herbicide treatment in July.

Simultaneously, an Atikameksheng Anishnawbek (Whitefish Lake) band member from Cartier and his allies are decrying a recent dousing of chemicals on land near Benny, on the CPR line, that is considered ecologically sensitive and culturally sacred.

"They’ve already done a lot of damage to this area, and we’re trying to save what’s left," said Clyde McNichol, whose Camp Eagle Nest introduces youth to traditional bushcraft skills and maintains a base camp in Benny.

By "they" he means not only Eacom, the logging company that is cutting chunks of Crown forest, but Vermilion Forest Management, the organization that oversees replanting and tending of timber stands on behalf of Eacom and six other logging outfits, in conjunction with the Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry.

McNichol said the ministry and Eacom have agreed to hold off on logging a portion of the Benny forest until archeological, ecological and traditional knowledge studies are completed, but in the meantime have gone ahead and sprayed a nearby stand of replanted conifers.

That happened Thursday, McNichol said, and on Sunday he and his wife were at the site, taking photographs to track how the chemicals will impact the surrounding vegetation and the wildlife it supports.

"These animals are also the food we hunt for," said McNichol. "Rabbits, deer, partridge, beaver. And a lot of the traditional medicine gets affected, too. You can’t use medicine with poison in it to heal someone."

The Vermilion Forest Management Company maintains the two types of herbicide it applies — a glyphosate of the Roundup family and a Garlon product — only target vegetation that competes with the planted pines and won’t poison water or enter the food chain.

They are "rigorously tested, can only be applied under calm conditions, and don’t affect any insect, invertebrate or mammal," Doug Maki, a silviculturist, told The Star earlier this summer.

Opponents point out glyphosate has been classified as "probably carcinogenic to humans" by the World Health Organization, and cite research indicating both it, and the triclopyr-based Garlon product, can have dire consequences for fish and frogs.

But even if the products only wipe out the tree species deemed less commercially valuable than pine, that, too, is having an unhealthy impact on the environment, critics say.

Ray Owl, a Sagamok band member and co-organizer of the Friday protest, noted that poplar, the main species foresters want to knock back, also happens to be "the main food for moose in the fall and springtime."

Bears, too, depend on the fresh leafy growth in spring. "The suckers are only there for two weeks and then the spawn is over and they’re gone, so the bears have nothing to eat until the berries come in," he said.

Owl firmly believes, however, that the impact of the chemicals goes well beyond the plants they target.

"When you talk about the forest, you’re talking about everything that goes in there, not just one species," he said."There’s bugs and all kinds of critters that live in there with that leaf; there’s little birds that have nests in there. Butterflies, bees, frogs, snakes, even the fish that are close by, because that stuff goes into the creeks. The only thing you don’t kill is a rock."

McNichol — who can trace his Benny roots to his grandfather, who moved there from Whitefish Lake to work a trap line, not to mention shield his children from the residential school system — said his people still rely on the land for sustenance and he worries that eventually there will be human health consequences to the spraying.

"That’s what we always survived on," he said. "Nowadays it’s hard because they’re cutting and spraying areas, but sometimes you’ve got no choice but to eat the food or you’ll starve. That’s the food we usually eat, the fish and that, so sometimes you just have to eat it and hope for the best. But eventually it’s going to kill you."

McNichol said a number of native families settled in Benny and there are burial spots that he’s determined to protect from logging activities.

"I’m prepared to take whatever steps are necessary," he said. "I’m not going to let them walk over us and our families’ graves."

He said his father Simon fought in the Second World War as a sniper, and won medals in Europe for his boxing prowess, but when he returned, had a hard time making a go of it in the Benny bush.

"He came home broke and tried to make a living with trapping on snowshoes, but snow machines came in following his tracks and robbed his traps," he said.

McNichol is now trying to revive his father’s trap line in order to teach native — and non-native — youth about wilderness living, but worries the wilderness won’t be preserved much longer if the current timbering pattern continues.

"It’s not just about me and my native rights," he said of his campaign to preserve the Benny forest, noting there is strong support among Geneva Lake cottagers and residents to curtail timbering and spraying.

"It’s for everyone else around here who loves to come to hunt and fish," he said. "It’s to help protect what we have here."

jim.moodie@sunmedia.ca