It’s about clean water. It’s always been about clean water. Miranda Dick, Secwépemc, repeatedly emphasizes the importance of clean water when she speaks about her actions trying to stop the twinning of the Trans Mountain pipeline. She said for her whole life, stemming from her mom and dad, she’s been protecting the watershed. Her mom passed away from cancer more than 18 years ago. “She always said it was in the food we eat and the water we drink – this cancer would be contaminating our human consumption. So she always said to protect clean water, protect the berries, and protect the salmon and the deer. It’s our food supply, right?” remarked Miranda. “So I always led with that, over the course of time, protection of clean water.”

The controversial Canada-U.S. oil and gas conduit known as Line 5 could be facing its toughest challenger yet: the very watershed the pipeline's detractors are trying to protect. Spring flooding has washed away significant portions of the riverbank where Line 5 intersects Wisconsin's Bad River, a meandering, 120-kilometre course through Indigenous territory that feeds Lake Superior and a complex network of ecologically delicate wetlands.

The Simpcw First Nation has become the latest community to declare a part of its traditional territory near the B.C.-Alberta border to be protected from logging and other extractive activities. On Monday, the First Nation announced it had declared the Raush Valley watershed — home to rare temperate rainforests located in the Rocky Mountains, halfway between Valemount and McBride — as an Indigenous Protected and Conserved Area (IPCA), based on what it says is the community's inherent right over its unceded territory.

According to the promoters, the region contains some of the world's largest deposits of spodumene, a rock from which lithium — key to the energy transition and the electrification of transport networks — is extracted. Nemaska Lithium describes itself as a corporation that "intends to facilitate access to green energy, for the benefit of humanity." The Whabouchi open pit mine will be located about 30 kilometres from the village of Nemaska, in the watershed of the Rupert River, considered one of Quebec's ecological gems. "If the water becomes contaminated by the mine, I don't see how we can limit the damage to the food chain," says Thomas Jolly, who was chief of Nemaska from 2015 to 2019, stressing the importance of fishing to his community.

In a city of pinstripes and partisan power brokers, Mike Allison sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s in the wrong place — and he knows it. “I shouldn’t be here,” the denim-clad Indigenous elder suddenly says, fighting tears beneath the brim of his trademark cowboy hat. “I should be out on the land, working with my kids, teaching them values. I should be teaching them kids how to work with the environment, not fight for it.”

In the far northwest of Manitoba, the Seal River flows 260 kilometres through the thick boreal forest into Hudson Bay. It's the only major river in northern Manitoba without any dams. No roads lead to the river, and there's only one human settlement in the river's watershed. That community, the Sayisi Dene, is leading an initiative along with neighbouring Dene, Cree and Inuit communities to protect the 50,000 square kilometres of the watershed. That's an area of untouched wilderness roughly the size of Nova Scotia, which would be protected from industrial development if the community's proposal is accepted.

A group of B.C. First Nations are calling on Australian mining giant Rio Tinto Alcan to release more water into the Nechako River after a sudden die-off of endangered white sturgeon. Last month, B.C.’s Ministry of Land, Water and Resource Stewardship reported 11 dead adult white sturgeon had been found in the Nechako River — an unusual occurrence. White sturgeon can grow to six metres long and live more than 100 years. They are an endangered species with between 300 and 600 remaining in the wild. Scientists said the fish had not died from disease, chemical exposure or due to fishing, and had no signs of injury. The government then reached out to local First Nations.