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The killing of a young bear that wandered into the city last week has upset some people.

Derek Tremblay, who works at the legislative assembly, was among those to express disappointment that the bear was shot dead instead of tranquilized and placed back in the wild.

The decision to kill an animal should not be taken lightly. Most bears that wander into our city are not persistent pests but are just passing through, and go quietly on their way without requiring intervention other than the clearing of a path.

But when they take a wrong turn and end up downtown, where many people are coming and going, the consequences of not taking action could be even more tragic.

Wildlife officers were tracking the bear, which weighed approximately 64 kilograms, for two hours before finally pulling the trigger on it near the tennis courts around 4 p.m. Such an exciting pursuit always attracts the interest of the general public and some curious people follow and potentially put themselves in harm's way.

As well, with summer vacation in full swing, children often pass the tennis courts area on their way to the Ruth Inch Pool or the nearby playground. Chances cannot be taken with children's lives.

Although this particular bear was not described as acting aggressive, it still had the potential to launch a fatal attack very quickly. Bears are incredibly agile, dangerously strong and faster than most people expect - able to reach up to 45 km/h, which the average person has no chance of outrunning.

Although we sometimes see large animals drop quickly from tranquilizers on TV and on movie screens, wildlife officer Ian Ellesworth said it can sometimes take five to 10 minutes for the sedative to take effect.

It's a shame a wild animal had to die, but the story would have been much worse had a child been maimed while wildlife officials tried to spare the life of the bear.

It's a place for those who are welcome in few other places to grab coffee, sober up, to use the bathroom or protect themselves from the rain; for that alone, Yellowknife's Dene Ko day shelter is inherently a success.

It could be improved upon -- limited by its budget, it lacks professional counselling services that could help its homeless patrons.

This week the shelter returned to operating from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. -- back to normal hours after experimenting with opening from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.

The shelter, funded as a three-year pilot project, serves close to 70 people a day, feeding sometimes 40 at mealtimes. According to one of its patrons, some employers arrive in the early hours of the morning to recruit for casual labour. These factors contribute to the success story.

Yellowknife Chamber of Commerce executive director Tim Doyle has questioned the usefulness of the shelter. He pointed out that downtown violence has not decreased, and in fact spiked in June this year; the exodus of retailers from the downtown core has not abated; and drinking, drug-use and fighting still happen in plain sight, sometimes in front of the shelter itself.

These are the symptoms of huge social issues that must be dealt with, but that responsibility lies not with the day shelter. The facility is exactly what its name suggests - a shelter, a haven for those who would otherwise be on the streets.

There's little doubt that the shelter enriches the lives of the 70 people who stop by every day, and the city would be worse off if it ceased to exist.

There was one comment that particularly stood out when Enbridge representatives participated in a community meeting in Wrigley on Aug. 11.

From the third row of seats, Morris Moses stated that Enbridge should have arrived in the community with a cheque in hand.

With passion and possibly anger audible in his voice, Moses said after years of operating a pipeline in Wrigley's backyard, the company has given the community nothing – not a skating rink, not a pool, nothing.

"You insulted us again by coming here empty handed," said Moses.

It was a statement that deserves consideration and one that First Nations and companies that want to do business in the North and in the Deh Cho will need to consider more and more.

If nothing else, the Enbridge pipeline oil spill is a cautionary lesson. It's showing First Nations that it's imperative that agreements are made before a project or development begins on their traditional land and definitely not put off until something goes wrong.

Many of Pehdzeh Ki First Nation's concerns related to the oil spill could have been dealt with quickly if the band and Enbridge had a pre-existing agreement.

Pehdzeh Ki's current concerns have shown that such an agreement should have precisely laid out how Enbridge would consult with the band in the case of a spill. Clear channels of communication and the community's expectations regarding what consultation means should have been laid out.

The question of what resources the band and its companies could provide in the case of a spill as well as who would have preferences for contracts should have also been nailed down. Finally, expectations about what forms compensation would take, whether it be a monetary payment or other options, should have been discussed.

For Pehdzeh Ki, it's already too late. The spill has happened and the band and Enbridge are struggling to see eye to eye. Even the basic question of what consultation involves, a point that everything else hinges on, hasn't been clearly answered more than three months after the spill.

First Nations and companies alike need to take notes from the hard lessons that Pehdzeh Ki and Enbridge are learning. Development projects will likely become more common in the Deh Cho as companies seek to harvest the region's resources.

By establishing clear agreements before projects begin, both First Nations and companies will benefit and some future conflicts may be avoided.

The Sunchild E-learning program is one of those stories with a happy ending.

It began in 2010 when the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation received funding from the federal government and decided to funnel it toward a program that, in essence, improves literacy levels in its students.

In its first semester in February 2010, not one of its 12 students completed a course.

In its second semester in September 2010, course completion rose to 33 per cent and in its third semester last February, that number rose again to 80 per cent.

Now, not only are students passing their courses, they're excelling.

Candace Morgan, who helps manage the program, said that last semester, the top three students had averages above 85 per cent.

In addition, students are provided with a full-time, on-site mentoring and counselling services for both mental health and career planning, and a tutor is available as well.

Word has spread so fast around town that, for the upcoming semester, they have received 30 applications for the three available spots.

In an interview with News/North, Morgan said enabling students to succeed in class is just part of the puzzle.

"This isn't just about passing, it's about passing and doing well. The potential for them to go on to whatever it is they want as a career is very, very possible," she said.

"I can only see onward and upward with the program."

The fact the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation is taking in dropouts and making stars out of them is tremendous. The fact they will have to turn away at least 27 people in September is tragic. Nearly 8,000 aboriginal people in the territory over the age of 15 do not have a high school diploma, and sunchild has to turn 27 people willing and able to graduate away at the door.

At $600 a pop, Sunchild's online courses don't come cheap, and the IRC has stretched whatever funding it has to the maximum.

The GNWT, federal government, local businesses and anyone else with a stake in promoting education in the North needs to step forward and make it possible for anyone who wants to complete their high school diploma to do so. The IRC has, against all odds, found a recipe for success, and funding shouldn't get in the way of writing more happy endings.

The territorial government is a friends and family hiring club and everybody knows it.

Its affirmative action hiring policy, adopted in 1988, was created with the intent of ensuring Northerners, particularly aboriginal Northerners, are the first in line for jobs with the GNWT. Thus the hiring designations of P1 and P2, respectively, for aboriginal and non-aboriginal residents.

There have been complaints for years that all this system really does is give less deserving job candidates an advantage over those who don't happen to have family and friends working for the GNWT, while doing little to increase the number of aboriginal residents completing high school and post-secondary school.

Of course, with more than 4,000 positions to fill, and competition for workers from the federal, municipal and private sectors, the territorial government can never fill all these jobs. In fact, according to the GNWT's latest affirmative action report in 2005, only 18 per cent of those hired or transferred during the year were affirmative action hires.

So while the territorial government favours Northerners with its affirmative action plan, there are still more jobs than there are Northerners to fill them, or more correctly, skilled Northerners.

William Turner is one such employee hired from down south last year to take on the job of policy adviser with the Business Development and Investment Corporation. He's also, in his short time in the North, managed to secure an appointment to the NWT Human Rights Commission. No doubt, this qualifies him as an aboriginal success story in Canada.

Nonetheless, Turner, a member of the Temagami First Nation band from Ontario, is taking the GNWT to court over its affirmative action policy. He claims it discriminates against Canadians from outside the NWT, particularly aboriginal Canadians, who have "mobility rights" to government jobs in most other jurisdictions in Canada.

Dene National Chief Bill Erasmus appears to agree, but was more focused on the lack of aboriginal residents in government jobs. Aboriginal residents born in our territory make up 51 per cent of the NWT population but account for only 30.4 per cent of GNWT workers, according to the 2005 affirmative action report. Erasmus argues that "our aboriginal people have not been getting the higher-end jobs with the territorial government."

But lost in this argument is the abysmal number of aboriginal students graduating from high school and receiving a post-secondary education. The government's affirmative action report puts the percentage of aboriginal high school grads at 45 per cent - far lower than the 87 per cent reported for non-aboriginal residents. More alarming, in 2004, less than five per cent of aboriginal residents in the NWT possessed a university degree or its equivalent.

In this day and age it's hard to imagine an aboriginal person with a university education being unable to get a good government job, here or anywhere else in Canada. Turner is living proofing of that.

Affirmative action in its entirety is becoming an obsolete institution. Instead, the effort should be focused on raising the level of education and training for aboriginal people. If we can accomplish that, then we'll see more of them in higher management positions with the GNWT and beyond.

Suicide affects everyone. Whether it's someone that's close to you, someone who serves you coffee or someone you don't even know, the needless loss of life is something that's felt by the entire community.

We all know the number of suicides that occur in Nunavut is substantially higher than any other province or territory in Canada. We've read the glaring headlines in the papers down south and everyone has felt the reverberating effects of suicide in their communities.

In Nunavut, ending your own life could be considered a fad. The Nunavut Suicide Prevention Strategy released last year, says, "Nunavummiut have been exposed so directly and repeatedly to suicide that they have come to accept the situation as normal."

But it's not normal.

And last week, four summer students with Kivalliq Counselling and Support Services said enough is enough and organized the Kivalliq Suicide Prevention Walk and Camp in Rankin Inlet.

The turnout of more than 80 people demonstrated that this issue is close to many hearts and is on the minds of many people. And the dozens of youth that signed up for the camp, showed that there is a need for youth programs that provide support and self-esteem building.

KayyLynn Kabluitok, one of the event co-ordinators, said her greatest hope for the camp was that the participants would walk away knowing that life is worth living regardless of the hard times.

She also hoped the youth would gain confidence, a sense of self worth, basic counselling skills and coping skills.

And if nothing else, she hoped they would make friends, so they would know there is always someone there for them.

"Communities are filled with people and our territory is filled with people and our country ... we are there for them," she said.

And to show youth that they're not alone, the summer students started the Yellow Ribbon Campaign. The ribbon signifies that the person wearing it is willing to talk or listen to someone in need of support.

If this campaign takes off, the long-lasting effect it has on Nunavut could be astounding.

The suicide walk and camp opened a dialogue that, with the help of the Yellow Ribbon Campaign, can continue. Maybe it will make the topic of suicide less taboo.

Maybe it will help the healing process for those who have been left behind. And maybe it will make people realize that suicide is not a legitimate option.

We can only wait and see what the lasting effects are, but we can hope and continue to work to put a stop to the needless loss of life.

The NWT has no shortage of needs and emerging among them is more than $200 million in renovations to Stanton Territorial Hospital.

The 23-year-old facility, based in Yellowknife but used by people from every NWT community, needs structural upgrades and vital equipment replacements. This expensive undertaking is on the agenda for 2014-15.

The question is: where the money is going to come from?

The GNWT is already closing in on its debt limit, owing $515 million with a cap set at $575. That limit had to be raised by $75 million last year to allow the territorial government to take on the $182-million Deh Cho Bridge.

Western Arctic MP Dennis Bevington went to Ottawa earlier this year with a bill to increase the NWT's borrowing power to 70 per cent of its revenues; this year that would be $951 million.

Bevington argued that the federal government is carrying debt that's twice its annual revenue, so it would be hypocritical to continue limiting the NWT to around half its own revenue.

The bill passed first and second reading in Parliament and as of February it was on its way to the Standing Committee on Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development for debate.

Then came a May 2 federal election and the proposal to raise the NWT's debt limit was consequently discarded.

Bevington went on to defeat Liberal-turned-Conservative candidate Sandy Lee at the NWT polls, but she didn't disappear for long.

A former NWT health minister, Lee received a federal appointment in July. She was quietly selected as NWT director of regional affairs for federal Health and CanNor Minister Leona Aglukkaq.

Asked about his election rival popping up in a patronage appointment, Bevington told News/North, "I trust she will respect the relationship established through the electoral process between constituents and the elected member of Parliament."

In other words, don't step on my toes or throw up roadblocks.

That is fair enough to say. Even so, one of the best things Lee could do for the NWT is to lobby for the cash to complete the Stanton renovations.

As a health minister for several years speaking to the current federal health minister, now her boss, Lee could persuade Aglukkaq and Harper to make the money flow - whether through a one-time contribution from Ottawa or as part of the raising of the NWT debt ceiling.

Meanwhile, politics, being what they are, will never truly be set aside.

Lee is not ruling out another run at the Western Arctic MP seat. She can remind voters in four years that it was her work behind the scenes, and the Conservative Party, that gave NWT residents the gift of better health.

Two communities are grieving this month following the deaths of three men in two separate boat accidents.

Brothers Tommy and Noah Kalluk of Arctic Bay were found dead in their capsized boat July 30 about 40 km south of the hamlet. Noah Metuq of Pangnirtung died Aug. 1 after falling overboard in Cumberland Sound and being swept away from his boat by the current. According to RCMP, he spent three to five minutes in the water before being picked up by a passing boat, but was pronounced dead at the community's health centre.

None of the men was wearing a life-jacket.

In 2005-2007, Nunavut had the highest rate of deaths by drowning in Canada - 17.3 per 100,000 population, as compared to the national average of 1.5. And in 80 per cent of Canada's drowning deaths in 2005-2007, the victim wasn't wearing a life-jacket.

Many people in the north are skeptical that wearing a life-jacket can make a difference to your chances of survival after a boat accident, because the water here is so cold.

But recent research has shown that wearing a life-jacket reduces the chance of drowning, even in Arctic waters, as it can take up to an hour to become fatally hypothermic - not minutes as is commonly thought.

Dr. Gordon Giesbrecht at the University of Manitoba illustrated this vividly in 2008 when he recruited nine volunteers to undergo cold water immersion tests. The project, which took place in an Ontario lake in April just after its ice cover had melted, was dubbed Cold Water Boot Camp. From this and other studies, Giesbrecht devised the one-10-one rule of thumb.

One minute: that's how long the initial shock of landing in cold water lasts. The shock causes you to take a deep and sudden gasp and then hyperventilate. Wearing a life-jacket is vital to keeping your head and face out of the water while you try to stem your panic and get your breathing under control.

Ten minutes: that's how long you have to try and rescue yourself, before the cold incapacitates you, numbing your fingers and limbs, and you begin to lose your ability to swim.

One hour: it takes at least an hour for body temperature to drop to a fatal level, even in 4C water, but due to cold incapacitation, drowning can happen quickly. A life-jacket with a collar that's designed to keep a person's head above water even when they're unconscious buys time for rescuers to reach victims.

Wearing a life-jacket may not be enough to prevent all deaths from boating accidents, especially if rescue is more than an hour away. But paired with other safety measures, such as never travelling alone and carrying some means of sending a distress signal, it gives you a fighting chance in an environment that's unforgiving.

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