But why do caribou actually matter?

They’re amongst our first residents for starters.

When the last ice age ended, caribou were one of the first animals to repopulate North America. Why? Because caribou have evolved hooves that grow longer in the winter and act like a snow-plow/cramp-on hybrid that gives them the ability to navigate deep snow and slippery ice better than almost anyone.

These super hooves? It helps them eat. Which helps us!

Lichen – whether in the high alpine or on the trunk of an old growth tree – is the caribou’s specialty. But lichen isn’t a plant – it’s part algae and part fungus and that means, aside from allowing soil to be its super awesome self, it’s also critical in converting carbon to oxygen, especially in harsh climates.

And because it’s not a plant, it can’t be seeded. So how does it grow? Because of the caribou of course, who are basically lichen’s own personal Amazon Prime.

Caribou cover thousands of kilometres from their lichen-rich winter habitat to where they give birth and where males smash their antlers against one another to prove dominance.

In fact, no terrestrial animal migrates further than the caribou. Which means literally no other animal can distribute lichen as effectively or as far as the caribou.

Which is great.

The lichen they depend on requires specific habitat to thrive – like old growth forests found along the valley bottoms on the western side of the Rockies. As this forest type disappears, caribou are forced to move again. Spending more energy, sure, but also forcing caribou to cross more avalanche terrain – a major predator during the winter.

Habitat change also means new opportunities for moose and deer – and the whitetail, don’t-ya-know, is basically an invasive species in caribou habitat. And why does that matter? It’s unnatural competition for food and the introduction of new species can even alter the chemistry of a forest.

But worst of all?

When we develop a landscape, we usually leave behind roads, which we then use for fun and guess what? If we, say, ski and compress a high snow pack into an easy to navigate trail, predators who aren’t super keen on hard work, all of a sudden have a superhighway to new prey. Like caribou.

And for all these reasons, as you’ve probably heard, caribou are in a spot of bother.

There are seven subspecies – each having evolved slightly differently within their various ranges to help both animal and ecosystem thrive – and all populations are in decline. The decline isn’t new – it started way back when we first built a railway across Canada – but the problem is getting a bit worse.

In the last twenty years, caribou numbers have dipped by 30% nationally. The mountain caribou subspecies, which calls Mount Robson home, numbers fewer than 2000. In the world.

If we lose caribou, an ecosystem loses a piece of its puzzle – an interconnected web becomes a chain, becoming easier to break. Natural process – like lichen transportation – gets lost and the ramifications? Well, we just don’t know.

Caribou are not a keystone species – they don’t affect every aspect of the food chain – but they might be the most important indicator species, given the size of their range, helping us understand the health of all life where they live. And because caribou are also an umbrella species, by saving them, we can also save other life where they’re found.

So, that’s why caribou matter.

How to save them? Can we save them? That’s the question and there are no easy answers.

But here’s the good news: just as we’ve all had a role – directly or indirectly – in the decline of caribou, we can all have a role – directly or indirectly – in finding a better balance – for caribou, for people, for nature, for all.