VANCOUVER—When flooding last year broke open a fish ladder that allowed spawning salmon to get upriver near Cache Creek, B.C., locals trained as “guardians” from the nearby First Nation responded to the disaster first.

They’d been warning about a growing hole in the critical fisheries structure — which looks like a stairway covered in water — for years. When it tore open, they followed their training and jumped into action.

“One of our group saw the hole escalate,” recalled Art Antoine, demonstrating the size of the breach by holding his arms out wide.

A guardian watchman with Bonaparte First Nation, Antoine spoke to the Star wearing a collared forest-green shirt emblazoned with “Protector” on the back and “Territorial Patrol” patches on the arms.

“You wouldn’t believe the power of the water,” he recalled. “We put in a fish fence to catch the fish, but the flash floods wiped out the nets and washed our fence out; we reset it but that broke too. We lost about 10,000 fish last year.”

The flash floods, which have been worsening every year from melting snow, washed away salmon that had swam for weeks to get inland from the sea.

“Damn right, our fish are our life,” Antoine lamented. “And after all the moose population we lost to the Elephant Hill Wildfire, we’re at the front line of climate change.”

His band’s patrol and monitoring group is just one of many that have blossomed across B.C. and, more recently, Canada.

The idea behind the growing guardian watchmen movement is to maintain “eyes on the land.” Indigenous communities send teams out on Indigenous territories and waters to monitor and respond to emergencies, ensure laws are followed and collect data on the local effects of climate change. It was Coastal First Nations guardians who were first on-scene when a tugboat sunk off Heiltsuk Nation territory in 2016.

But at the second-ever conference of the National Indigenous Guardians Network, held in Vancouver on Tuesday, a series of leaders intimated that their movement has its sights set beyond simply monitoring emergencies and land use. They aim to one day enforce Indigenous law, which they said is a key element of sovereignty.

“We’re tired of what we’re seeing,” Antoine said, “and we’re taking back control. We need to know where the next flash flood is going to be and understand how to stop it.”

That point was echoed by another guardian, Dave Porter of Kaska Dene Nation, who told more than 300 delegates from across the country that Indigenous Peoples are best placed to watch over their lands because they’ve known their territories for millennia.

“We are part of the land and water and have been for thousands and thousands of years,” Porter said. “With our history as strong, independent nations from coast to coast to coast, it’s our responsibility in turn to look after the land.

“The guardians are the eyes of the land, combining traditional knowledge and modern science. And with climate change the defining issue of our time … Indigenous guardians must be our first line of defence against the destruction from climate change and to help rebuild our nations.”

Haida Nation pioneered the idea decades ago with the B.C. First Nations’ land-patrol program. The model has now spread to every corner of the country.

One of the largest guardian teams is that of the Coastal First Nations of B.C., an alliance of bands on the West Coast that have combined their training and resources, with the aim of protecting the environment, fostering sustainable development and “enhancing community well-being.”

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Elodie Button is a stewardship training co-ordinator for Coastal First Nations’ Great Bear Initiative, a training program in partnership with Vancouver Island University. She said students receive a series of university-accredited certificates in courses including environmental monitoring, leadership and natural-resource management. Future plans include archeology and enforcement and compliance training, she said.

“It’s hands-on, experiential learning in the field,” Button said. “For the past few years, this program has really been our life. We’re talking about a lot more than a technical training program, though. Students really have the opportunity to learn from the land.”

Australia pumps millions of dollars into Indigenous patrols in its arid northern region, which is traditional territory to Indigenous Peoples. Guardians across Canada want the Crown here to see the benefits and to follow suit with increased funds.

With lofty long-term goals, the program is appealing to many First Nations as well because it is an immediate way to create jobs in remote areas often faced with high unemployment.

“These alliances are all about the lands, which are under pressure everywhere,” explained Valerie Courtois, director of the Indigenous Leadership Institute, the Guardian Network’s founding organization.

“This matters so much, because there absolutely is a significant return on investment, that turns into improved literacy and education, reduced rates of incarceration and even reducing violence against women,” said Courtois.

Courtois, who is Innu from Mashteuiatsh First Nation in Quebec, explained that after the success of the Haida’s program, the Innu followed suit with the second pilot project. It has since become well-established and expanded.

Another successful training program that has been running for several years brought leaders from the north down to Vancouver for the national conference.

“We’re bringing community members back onto the land,” said Corrine Porter, executive director of the Dena Kayeh Institute, which brings together Indigenous Peoples spanning the northern B.C.-Yukon border to learn and experience wildlife management, scientific data collection and elders’ knowledge.

Her guardian watchmen program, called Dane nan yḗ dāh, patrols the land but also engages young people directly in the wilderness, something she described as a transformative experience for many of them.

“To have young people training with elders,” she said, “they’re engaging as true stewards of our lands.”

Correction — March 14, 2019: This article was edited from a previous version that misstated the titles of Elodie Button and Corrine Porter.

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