Lt.-Colonel William Wood's 1913 plan for animal sanctuaries in Labrador is a practical document, not a theoretical treatise. It emerges from a specific institutional context: the Fourth Annual Meeting of the Conservation Commission of the Dominion of Canada. Wood frames his proposal as a 'Second Supplement' to earlier papers, and he is candid about his sources of expertise—acknowledging both credentialed specialists and the 'first-class experts' among his fishing, sealing, and trapping acquaintances. The text's voice is direct and occasionally wry, as when he notes that some of these local experts 'will be greatly astonished to find that they are called so now.'
A Plan Built on Local Knowledge
Wood insists that effective conservation requires local participation. His proposed budget of $5,000 per year allocates $3,000 for five boats, each staffed by two local men, patrolling 200 miles of coast from Kegashka to Bradore. 'Local men are essential,' he writes, because 'strangers, however good otherwise, would be lost in that labyrinth of uncharted and unlighted islands.' The plan divides the coast into five beats—Romaine, Harrington, Tabatière, Shekattika, and Bradore—and adds a sixth inspection boat with a trained naturalist and a provincial game warden. Wood's attention to practical details, such as requiring motors capable of at least six knots and coordinating with the Dominion Fisheries Protection Service, underscores his aim for an actionable, not merely aspirational, scheme.
Tensions Between Exploitation and Preservation
Wood opens his argument with a sharp critique of resource extraction: 'An eagerly exploiting people in an easily exploited country, we are only too apt to live on the capital of all our natural resources.' He cites reckless railways that 'burn forests which ensure a constant flow of water for irrigation, navigation, power plant, and fish,' and notes that 'the presence of a construction gang generally means the needless extermination of every animal in the neighbourhood.' Yet his own plan accommodates limited local use—allowing residents to take certain eggs before June 1 or June 15, and to shoot after September 1 without a license. These exceptions, he argues, 'will not endanger the bird life there.' The document thus embodies a tension between absolute protection and the subsistence needs of coastal communities.
A Jurisdictional No-Man's-Land
A recurring theme is the administrative neglect of the Canadian Labrador coast. Wood describes it as 'the most neglected part of Canada,' caught between Dominion and provincial jurisdictions: 'The Dominion stops short by water as decidedly as the Province does by land. So an ideal place is left defenceless between the two, as if expressly made for the Commission to conserve.' He notes that the region lacks voting power, making it politically vulnerable: 'being dependently human, it can hardly pass over the whole North Shore of voters in order to give special protection to the little, voteless No-Man's-Land.' This observation reveals Wood's awareness that conservation is as much a political as an ecological challenge, and his plan is designed to work within—and around—existing governmental gaps.
Readers should approach this document as a historical artifact of early Canadian conservation thought, not as a finished policy. Wood's proposal was never fully implemented, but its detailed budget, reliance on local knowledge, and attempt to balance protection with traditional use offer a revealing snapshot of Progressive-era environmentalism. The text rewards attention to its small, telling phrases—the 'gull broth' that is 'the local equivalent of chicken broth,' the 'red-handed offenders' to be consigned to provincial courts—that ground abstract ideas in the specific conditions of the Labrador coast.
Reading Wood's careful plans for Labrador wardens and egg-taking allowances, I remembered my grandfather's quiet ledger of hive inspections—how he marked which frames held brood, which hives needed feeding. That same tenderness for precise, local care surfaces in Manual of the apiary — Background and Themes, though with more wax than seabirds. Both books trust small, patient hands with fragile lives.