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Oceans North

Harvesting as a Way of Life and Source of Income in Wemindji

Harvesting as a Way of Life and Source of Income in Wemindji

Aaron Janzen |  December 8, 2025

In many Indigenous communities, harvesting remains a cornerstone of the local economy. Today, however, the practice of harvesting and the traditional livelihoods it supports face significant barriers, from the loss of traditional Indigenous knowledge to the high cost of equipment. What can be done to ensure that harvesting continues to thrive as a part of everyday life? In Eeyou Istchee, the Cree territory of northern Quebec, a relatively little-known harvester support program—which has run for nearly 50 years—may have an answer to this.

Pushing off from the shore in Wemindji, you can see both the community as it stands and clues to its past and future. Rising above the houses is the red ochre mountain from which the community derives its name: “Wemindji” is a contraction of the Cree words “wiimin” and “uchii,” which together mean “ochre hills.” On the shore of the nearby Maquatua River stands the oldest building in town, the Hudson Bay warehouse. It dates to 1959, when the community was moved here from the Old Factory trading post. Behind the warehouse, a new school is being rapidly constructed next to the baseball diamond, where children are playing; in between and behind the houses stand tipis, faint trails of smoke rising above them, indicating that fish is being smoked, and traditions continued.

In many Indigenous communities, harvesting and related activities—as well as the knowledge, skills, and relationships that come with it—remain a cornerstone of the local economy. Harvesting provides nutritious food while sustaining culture and social bonds, encouraging stewardship, strengthening health, and enhancing overall community well-being.

However, both harvesting and the traditional livelihoods it supports face significant barriers, from the loss of critical Indigenous knowledge and land skills to the high cost of equipment, or the separation from traditional territories and land-use changes that have disrupted peoples’ access.

What can help lower these barriers and ensure that harvesting continues to thrive as a part of everyday life? In Eeyou Istchee, the Cree territory of northern Quebec, a relatively little-known harvester support program—which has run for nearly 50 years—may have an answer to this.

The Cree Harvesters Economic Security Program provides Cree families with a guaranteed income, benefits, and incentives to pursue harvesting and related activities as a way of life. This summer, I travelled to Wemindji, one of the communities of the region, to learn first-hand how the program works, meet some of the harvesters who rely on it, and see the role it plays in this unique community.

To guide me through the program—and through the many islands, hidden shoals, and rocks lurking below the surface of the Maquatua River—I travelled with Dawson Asquabanesku to his family’s camp.

Image – Dawson guides us away from his family camp along the banks of the Maquatua River. For ten years, he has lived at this this camp during certain seasons with members of his family to harvest as part of his participation in the ESP. | Photo by Aaron Janzen

Dawson, his partner Trisha, and their kids are the youngest of three generations that live at the camp during different seasons. Dawson has been coming here for about ten years; he started at age 18 to spend more time out on the land with his grandfather and uncle, learning from them while helping them harvest and do chores around camp.

The presence of these different generations living together out on the land is mutually beneficial: the younger generations benefit from the transfer of knowledge and skills from older generations through observation, guidance, practice, and storytelling, while the older generation benefits from physical capabilities and support that the younger generation provides.

The benefits of this time spent on the land also extend beyond those present at camp. As we drew near, Dawson pointed out where he plans to build a new cabin. It’s a short distance from the annual fish camp he is organizing to provide fresh fish to community members that reside in town—just one of the ways active land use supports broader wellbeing in this region.

Dawson’s family camp and the many others like it across Eeyou Istchee represent the continuation of traditional Cree livelihoods that are rooted in their knowledge, language, culture, and sustainable harvesting practices. This way of life has remained viable in part due the foresight of Cree elders and the Cree Nation Government during the negotiation of the James Bay Agreement, as well as the continued investment and careful management of key programs and supports led by the regional Cree Trappers Association (CTA) and the local Wemindji Trappers Association.

The foundation of these supports is the Economic Security Program for Cree Hunters (ESP), funded by the province of Quebec and administered by the ESP Board and the regional CTA. This program, which has been in operation since 1975, provides beneficiaries with a daily allowance of $90 for each day spent at camp harvesting or doing harvesting-related activities. This income ensures that hunting, fishing, and trapping, as well as the labour involved in preparing supplies and caring for camps, remain part of a viable way of life.

Dawson’s grandfather has been participating in this program since its inception, enabling his family to live on the land and breaking a trail for future generations—including his grandson and great-grandchildren. The program continues to be popular, with 169 beneficiaries (112 family units) in Wemindji participating in 2024.

Image – Wemindji, viewed from the Maquatua River. “Wemindji” is a contraction of the Cree words “wiimin” and “uchii,” which together mean “ochre hills.” | Photo by Aaron Janzen

In addition to the ESP program, the Wemindji Trappers Association (WTA) provides further support for harvesters through programs that include subsidies for fuel and transportation, as well as loans for cabins and expensive equipment purchases like ATVs, snowmobiles, and boats. The WTA also helps supplement the income of ESP beneficiaries by contracting them to run fish camps (like the one planned by Dawson), remediate goose habitat, clear snowmobile and ATV trails, and support elders out at their cabins with challenging physical activities like chopping wood. This comprehensive system of supports reduces or eliminates many of the barriers to harvesting that other northern Indigenous communities face.

The social and cultural benefits of this system are significant and wide-ranging: Harvesting improves health outcomes, traditional food intake is associated with Cree language proficiency, and there is a positive influence on the transfer of Cree knowledge and skills, as both older and younger people share time together in camps. The practical experience of living on the land and learning from their elders produces individual harvesters, like Dawson, who are highly skilled, knowledgeable and able to support access to traditional foods for the broader community by guiding part-time hunters or by sharing harvested food with community members, particularly elders.

There are many positive environmental outcomes of the ESP, as well. The continuation of traditional livelihoods maintains an environmental stewardship ethic that is rooted in the deep relationship between people, the land and the waters. This can be seen in cultural institutions such as the tallymen (Indoh-hoh uchimaau) system. Tallymen oversee the harvesting in trapline areas and communicate with harvesters to ensure overharvesting, wasteful and harmful practices are avoided, thereby strengthening and providing Indigenous stewardship. This extends beyond harvesting, as tallymen are continually gathering knowledge about the health of the land and are well placed to participate in engagements and consultations around development projects that might impact those areas. More broadly, harvesters are invaluable resources for monitoring environmental and wildlife health and supporting and conducting research.

Making our way back to Wemindji, evidence of Eeyou Istchee’s flourishing traditional harvesting culture was visible everywhere, from the family camps dotting the islands to the canoes dotting the shoreline, and I was struck once again by the integration of traditional Cree culture and livelihoods with the modern economy of the town. During a period of rapid change, the community and landscape here both continue to thrive in large part because of the commitment, and investment, over 50 years that has ensured that traditional livelihoods remain a part of everyday life.