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'It's the best job ever' Yellowknifer joins fisheries officers on Great Slave Lake
Cody Punter
Northern News Services
Published Tuesday, July 16, 2013
SOMBA K'E/YELLOWKNIFE
It is 9 a.m. on a clear Saturday morning with barely a breeze on the water as Great Slave Lake glistens in the sun. This is the kind of morning fishers live for, but for fisheries officers Gerald Fillatre and Greg Kinsman, it's just another day at the office.
Fisheries officer Gerald Fillatre explains some of the regulations for sport fishing in the NWT to Nelson Muchekeni, during a patrol on Great Slave Lake on July 6. - Cody Punter/NNSL photo
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"It's the best job ever. In the summer you're in a boat and in the winter you're on a snowmobile," says Kinsman, who has only been a fisheries officer for the past year.
"It's great, you get to be outside and deal with people."
Between them, Fillatre and Kinsman make up a third of the six-fishery-officer force in the NWT, and half the force based in Yellowknife, which now has four officers, up from two last year.
Together, the six officers are responsible for enforcing fisheries-related offences for 13 per cent of Canada’s landmass.
With that much land to cover it can be difficult to catch offenders. However, to help be more efficient, the officers keep a log of what areas are popular at certain times of year.
"For example, Yellowknife River is popular in the spring, because it is the first place to open up. Then it's Prelude and other small lakes, then Great Slave," says Fillatre, who has served as a fisheries officer for 13 years.
Based on data from previous logs, the officers focus their attention on patrolling one area at a time.
"Normally we'll blitz an area. We'll do one week on Prelude one week on Great Slave," says Fillatre. The officers also do foot patrols along the shorelines, and for the first time this year, they have partnered with the Department of National Defence to conduct fly-overs for select fisheries.
"We're pretty excited about that. It gives us a capability we never had before," says Fillatre.
Their primary means of patrolling remains by water.
As they leave the dock on July 6, Fillatre explains that although fisheries officers are also capable of performing search and rescue operations, their main responsibility is to enforce the Fisheries Act, which dates back to the time of Confederation. Under the act, the officers are primarily concerned with policing three types of fishing: commercial, aboriginal and sport.
As they approach their first boat of the day, the officers see two men setting a net that fit into neither of those categories – they are aquatic ecologists doing a scientific fish study on the environmental impacts of Giant Mine.
After verifying the researchers' documentation and making sure their gear complies with regulations, one of the ecologists informs the officers that he noticed several unmarked nets when they were doing tests further down the bay earlier in the week, adding they recorded the nets' GPS co-ordinates.
The officers thank the ecologists for their help before driving away.
"The public reporting infractions is huge for us," says Fillatre as they head out towards the East Arm.
"Most people are happy to see us out there protecting these resources. We actually get a fair amount of complaints from people, saying 'why weren't you there?'"
It isn't long until the officers spot the first sports fishers of the day gathered on the east side of the lake across from Con Mine. Before approaching, Kinsman pulls out a pair of binoculars to see if anyone on the six boats is fishing. No one has a line in the water, but Kinsman sees fishing rods and tackle, so the officers decide to approach.
The officers ask to check their licences before they head out. Fisher Charlie Kudlak says he has been fishing on Great Slave Lake for 25 years, but that this was the first time he has ever been stopped by a fisheries officer.
"You'll get one guy who says he hasn't been checked in 25 years, then another one will complain that he's been checked three time this summer," jokes Fillatre, as he checks licences.
One member of the group is unable to provide a licence, and says he forgot it in his truck. Although the officers have the option of issuing a fine for not being able to produce a licence, they issue him a notice that he must to produce proof that he has a licence within three days.
As he drives away, Fillatre explains why he did not issue an order to appear in court.
"We're not just out there to charge people," he says "Our goal is to get people to voluntarily comply."
A dozen people were charged with fishing without a licence in the territory last year. Fillatre says fishing without a licence is the most common charge, followed closely by fishing with a barbed hook, which is illegal in the territory, and possessing more than the allowed quota of fish.
However, he adds the officers have already charged 12 people this year, a statistic Fillatre attributes to having two additional officers based permanently in Yellowknife.
The licences cost $20 and are a valid for one calendar year. Although there are no set fines for infractions related to the Fisheries Act, the average fine for fishing without a licence is usually several hundred dollars.
Later in the afternoon the officers find the unmarked buoys the researchers informed them about, in a small bay near Horseshoe Island. There are no nets attached to them. The area is also near a designated commercial fishing area, so they continue south to check that nets being used are the right size, and that they have not been left in the water for more than 30 hours, which they do by checking to make sure the fish in the net are healthy. Every net checked is complies with the regulations.
The officers do a loop and come back on the west shore of Yellowknife Bay, checking several commercial nets and aboriginal nets, and meeting with sport fishers along the way. As we pull back into the dock, officer Kinsman spots what looks like an unmarked buoy near Latham Island.
If the net does not comply with regulations, the officers will seize it and hold it as evidence against the owner.
Upon further inspection, it turns out the buoy is marked but the writing is fading. Although there is no infraction, Kinsman records the serial number on the buoy, and will call the owner of the net later, to ask that the nets be better marked.
By the time the officers are back on dry land, the officers have stopped over 30 boats, and checked nearly a dozen commercial and aboriginal nets but found no infractions. As the officers prepare to write their daily report, Fillatre calls the day a success, even though no one has been charged.
"We'd rather educate 10 people before we charge one," says Fillatre. "The big thing is letting people know that we're out."
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