Following hard-won sea otter recovery, First Nations call for a new hunt
A raft of sea otters anchored in giant bladder kelp in Morro Bay, California. Photo by: Flickr/Andrew A Reding [CC BY-NC-ND 2.0]
By Sonal Gupta
Half a century ago, sea otters were on the brink of extinction along British Columbia’s coast. Pulled from the frigid, untamed waters of Alaska, these charismatic creatures were brought back to their ancestral habitat. Today, they thrive through kelp forests and rugged inlets, celebrated as a symbol of one of conservation’s greatest comebacks. But with their return has come an unexpected reckoning, leading some First Nations to ask for the return of hunting — a practice that has been outlawed for generations.
Mariah Charleson, the 37-year-old chief councillor of Hesquiaht First Nation, grew up paddling in Hot Springs Cove, which was once rich with clams and Dungeness crabs. Just across from her childhood home, the seabed teemed with shellfish and crab traps were set regularly across the cove. But over the last decade, shellfish have vanished as sea otters consume the same clams, crabs and other marine species that Hesquiaht families have relied on for generations.
“A child now wouldn’t grow up seeing any of that. When I was a child, that was part of daily life. Now, it’s no longer possible,” she said.
Sea otters consume roughly a third of their body weight each day, decimating shellfish beds. In response, some Nuu Chah Nulth community leaders urge the Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) to establish a regulated sea otter hunt — a way for communities to reclaim stewardship and balance ecological and cultural needs.
Sea otter harvesting was a tightly regulated practice among Indigenous communities, said Cliff Alteo, an elder from the Ahousaht First Nation. “It wasn't about destroying a population or anything like that. It was about managing and protecting a food chain,” he said.
Historically, the communities carefully managed harvest zones by killing sea otters and anchoring their bodies around the urchin beds. “It was a sign to the other sea otters to stay out of that area,” Charleson said. “That's something that our ancestors would have done.”