WWF-Canada’s flagship report on the state of wildlife reveals persistent declines in monitored wildlife populations in Canada over the last 50 years, a 10 per cent average decline from 1970 to 2022
NATURE’S WARNING LIGHT
From the grizzly bear and black-tailed prairie dog to skinks and blue whales, Canada’s vast and diverse ecosystems are home to a wide array of wildlife.
All of this nature is deeply interconnected with the world around it. Every species and habitat plays a vital role in maintaining ecological balance.
But, like a blinking dashboard light, the trends revealed in the Living Planet Report Canada (LPRC) 2025 are warning us that the invisible threads that quietly hold life together are fraying. Human activity is disrupting natural relationships, damaging species’ habitats — their homes — and setting off ripple effects that threaten not only their survival, but the living systems we all rely on.
Though nature in Canada is declining, it is not beyond saving, if we act now to reinforce the balance that sustains us all.
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We need the world to be serious about tomorrow
When we take care
of the habitat, we take
care of the wildlife
What is the Canadian Living Planet Index?
Contributing to the Global Biodiversity Framework
EXPLORE THE REPORT FOR DEEPER INSIGHT INTO THE STATE OF WILDLIFE IN CANADA
WILDLIFE TRENDS
IN CANADA
When it comes to the state of wildlife in Canada, the trends are concerning.
For the 910 vertebrate species tracked, which account for more than half of the total number of vertebrates in the country, the latest edition of the Living Planet Report Canada finds the size of wildlife populations in Canada has fallen by an average of 10 per cent from 1970 to 2022.
This overall average accounts for species whose populations are growing as well as those that are declining. Digging deeper, the Canadian Living Planet Index (C-LPI) data reveals significantly more vertebrate species have decreased in abundance compared to those that have grown.
The current C-LPI relies on more than 5,000 records, the largest dataset yet, giving us the clearest picture of biodiversity trends in Canada since national reporting began nearly two decades ago. Read the Resources section for previous editions of the Living Planet Report Canada.
REPORT HIGHLIGHTS
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INTERCONNECTEDNESS
OF NATURE
Inter-species relationships are a cornerstone of all ecosystems. These relationships shape the functioning, stability and dynamics of ecosystems by maintaining biodiversity, energy flow and nutrient cycling. These interactions are vital for ecosystem health and resilience. When an ecosystem is both varied and balanced, it is healthy, and we all benefit.
© WWF / Troy Fleece
© Zoe Caron / WWF-Canada
© Don Getty
© VDOS Global / WWF-Canada
© Terry Kelly / WWF-Canada
ZOOMING IN ON
SPECIES' HABITATS
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© WWF - US/Conservation Media
© WWF-US / Clay Bolt
© Paul Reeves photography
© naturepl.com / Andy Rouse / WWF
INDIGENOUS PERSPECTIVES:
WEAVING TOGETHER
KNOWLEDGE SYSTEMS
Just as a range of indicators ensures a deeper understanding of biodiversity trends and their interconnectedness, so does including different knowledge systems. Indigenous knowledge is derived from generations of observation and interaction with local ecosystems, and it encompasses not only species and their behaviours, but also their intricate relationships with their environments — something that’s often overlooked by traditional scientific approaches.
An inclusive, rights-based approach weaves together these different approaches and knowledge systems and contributes to reconciliation through conservation.
Wolastoqey Nation
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Kianna Bear-Hetherington is a proud Wolastoqey woman from Sitansisk, also known as St. Mary’s First Nation, in Fredericton. She grew up swimming and fishing in the lakes and rivers of her community and always had a deep connection to the land and waters.
Listening to Elders and knowledge-keepers taught her a lot about the sacred relationship with the land and water, such as not to separate ourselves from nature, a teaching that eventually led her to work on fisheries in her community. Through her work with Wolastoqey Nation New Brunswick, the technical advisory body for the six Wolastoqey communities in the province, she has been able to deepen her understanding of her own identity.
“Wolastoq is not just a waterway but a core part of our nation’s identity. Our people have travelled, hunted and fished throughout its waters for millennia. There's a conservation ban on salmon within the Wolastoq [territory] now, but I have noticed changes over the years. A big part of that has to do with the extensive hydro dams we have on the Wolastoq [river]. And when one of the first dams went up in 1954, it completely stopped the salmon from being able to run, and that's a loss that our people still feel deeply to this day. It's not just about the salmon, though. The eels, trout and other species and medicines have also been affected. To hear an Elder speak of it, it's like these dams are clogging our arteries,” she said.
Wolastoqey Nation
Kianna Bear Hetherington not palitahasit Wolastoqewi-ehpit ’cey Sitansisk. Qeni-macekit, naci-tkahsomuhpon naka natamehpon qospemihkuk naka sipuwihkuk nit ewikit. Mecimi-te-na ’koseltomon ktahkomiq naka ’samaqanol.
Etoli-tpostuwat kehcikotonelici naka kcicihtuwinu, ’tokehkimsin ’kihcitomitahatomon ktahkomiq naka ’samaqan naka weci skat ’cepehlosihq. Nit weci-maceluhkatok etolamhotimok ewikit. Nit qenoluhket Wolastokuk, qeni-kinuwikemit ihik kamahcin Wolastoqewi-neqtuhkomikkil, wicuhkemkun eli-aqami-nonasit.
Kat tehpu nit Wolastoq sip, kenuk-ote-na nilun nit eli-pomawsuwinuwiyek. Nkisi-yaliyahtipon, nkotunkahtipon, naka natamhotipon Wolastokuk kis kehsamqahkil kehsikotok. Toke nkolahmakepon ntamewanen polamok Wolastokuk, kenuk kis komac kisi-acehtasu yut sip elomikotok. Elinaqahk kpihikonol kisihtasik. Kisihtasik amsqahsewey, 1954 elikotok, polamok ma-te kisi-pithawhomuhtiwiyik, naka mecimi-te toke nkilutomonen psi-te keq kisi-ksihkahtuwek. Kat tehpu polamok, nkisi-ksihkahlannuk-ona katiyik, skuhtomuk, kotokik nomehsok naka weyossisok, naka ’pisunol. Tahalu itom pesq kehcikotonet, “Psi-te yuhtol kpihikonol—tahaluhp toke kpocoqiyik nmoshunapennuk.”
Miawpukek First Nation
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Ross Hinks has spent most of his life living on Miawpukek First Nation, a small Mi’kmaq community in Conne River, Nfld. Hinks grew up fishing on the river with his father — their livelihood depended on what they could get from the land and sea. He’s worked for the Nation for roughly 45 years and now serves as the community’s director of natural resources where he advocates for Miawpukek’s involvement in development projects.
Over the course of Hinks’s life, he's seen dramatic changes in the region's species and says a lot of that is because of development. For decades, the community hasn’t been given the opportunity to provide input into the development of its natural resources and he says that despite the current focus on reconciliation, unfortunately this hasn’t changed much.
“We certainly can express our concerns and talk about the past, but at the end of the day, what is slated to go ahead usually goes ahead anyway,” Hinks said. “So you could say all you want, it doesn't make much of a difference.”
Despite this, Hinks and Miawpukek haven’t given up hope. The community routinely has boots on the ground, fighting to protect its territory’s environment and ensure sustainability for its people.
Miawpukek First Nation
Ross Hinks suel teli-pkitawsit wikit Miawpukek L’nue’kati. Apje’jk l’nue’kati etek Conne River, Ktaqamkuk, wejkwikwetjek Hinks ekwitamepnik wujjl ula sipu – mimajuaqnmuew wejiaq ta’n koqoey weja’tu’tij maqamikew-iktuk aqq apaqtuk. Elukewaji Miawpukwek natamiaw 45 te’sipunqekl aqq nike’ nikanus tel-maliaptmumk koqoey wejiaq maqamikew-iktuk aqq nutaknutk wjit Miawpukek teli-wiaqa’luj eltumk mtmo’taqney lukwaqn.
Teli-pkitawsit Hinks, nemitoq tetuji-pilua’sik tel-milamuksultiliji mimajultiliji aqq tel-milamu’k sqaliaqnn ula eymumk aqq teluet tela’tekek eltumk mtmo’taqney lukwaqn. Metla’sipunqekl, mu iknmuaj wutan wiaqpin wesku’tasik eltumk mtmo’taqney lukwaqn wjit koqoey wejiaq maqamikew-iktuk aqq teluet tlia’j na wesku’tasik apiksiktuaqn, mu tal-pilua’sinuk teleyuj.
“Kisi-wi’titen koqoey sespete’tmu’k aqq wsku’tesnu ta’n ki’s kis-tliaq, katu elmi-kespiaq ta’n koqoey ki’s kisutasik tla’siktn tla’sitew.” Hinks teluet. “ Na kis-tluetesk ta’n ketu’-tluen , katu mu tali-istua’tekenuk.”
Tlia’j, Hinks aqq Miawpukek mu pejilita’sulti’k. Lnue’katik kiskatpultijik, matnaqatinew ikatmnew wksitqamuey wmitkiuaq aqq ketlewa’tunew teli-wtuapsulti’tij wikmawa.
Taloyoak Umaruliririgut Association
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Abel Aqqaq has spent his entire life in the small hamlet of Taloyoak, Nunavut, the northernmost community on the Canadian mainland. Nestled between the Gulf of Boothia and the M’Clintock Channel in an area locally known as Aqviqtuuq, Aqqaq grew up on the land with his father, where he learned to hunt seal and caribou and trap Arctic foxes. Now he’s working as the Lead Guardian for the proposed Aqviqtuuq Inuit Protected and Conserved Area Guardians Program his community’s Hapumiyiit (Inuit Guardians) and with ArctiConnexion to ensure the preservation of his territory’s species and land.
Over the last several decades, most of the changes in species that Aqqaq has noticed in Taloyoak have been minor, like fewer ring seals on the south side of the M’Clintock Channel, with the biggest changes centering around migration routes.
And while the community has been boosting its environmental monitoring with trail cams and marine sampling, Taloyoak’s residents, especially hunters like Aqqaq, have been long aware of the changes happening in their territory. As resource extraction continues increasing in the north, the community is focusing heavily on protection to ensure that mining doesn’t happen in Aqviqtuuq.
“Wildlife is very important for us up here, it's our only garden,” Aqqaq said. “It's our only place where we get our country food, so it's very important that we take good care of what we have.”
Taloyoak Umaruliririgut Association
ᐄᐳᓪ ᐊᖅᑲᖅ ᐃᓅᓯᓕᒫᖅ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᐅᑕᐅᕗᖅ ᕼᐊᒻᒪᓚᑦᑯᑦᓂ ᑕᓗᕐᔪᐊᕐᓂ, ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ, ᐅᐊᖕᓇᖅᐸᓯᐅᓂᖅᐹᖓᓂ ᓄᓇᓕᖕᓂ ᑲᓇᑕᒥᐅ ᓄᓇᖅᐱᖕᒥᐅᑕᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂ. ᑕᐅᕙᓐᓇ ᐃᓂᓕᒃ ᐊᑯᓐᓂᖓᓂ ᐃᑦᑐᐊᖅᑐᕐᕕᐅᑉ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᖃᒡᒋᐅᕋᐅᑉᓗᓗ ᑕᐃᔭᐅᔪᒥ ᐊᕐᕕᖅᑑᕐ. ᐊᖅᑲᖅ ᓄᓇᒥ ᐱᕈᖅᓴᓂᑰᕗᖅ ᐊᑖᑖᒥᓂᓗ ᐃᓕᓐᓂᐊᖅᓯᒪᓪᓗᓂ ᓇᑦᓯᖅᓯᐅᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ, ᑐᒃᑐᓯᐅᕈᓐᓇᕐᓂᕐᒥᒡᓗ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑎᕆᒐᓂᐊᕐᓂᒃ ᒥᑭᒋᐊᕐᓂᐊᖃᑦᑕᕐᓂᕐᒥᒃ. ᒫᓐᓇᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᐱᓕᕆᔨᐅᓕᖅᑐᖅ ᑖᒻᓇ ᓯᕗᓕᕆᔭᐅᕙᖕᓂᖅ ᕼᐊᐳᒻᒥᔨᐅᓂᖏᓐᓂ ᐱᒋᐊᖅᑕᐅᓯᒪᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᕐᕕᖅᑐᖅ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᓴᐳᓐᓂᐊᖅᑕᐅᖁᔭᖓᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐱᑕᖃᐃᓐᓇᖁᔭᐅᓂᖓᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖓᓂ ᐃᓄᖕᓄᑦ ᕼᐊᐳᒻᒥᔨᐅᓕᖅᐳᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᐃᓚᒋᔭᐅᓪᓗᑎᒃ ᑖᒃᑯᓄᖓ ArctiConnexion−ᑯᓐᓄᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᐃᓐᓇᕈᓐᓇᖁᓪᓗᒋᑦ ᐊᕕᒃᑐᖅᓯᒪᓂᖓᓂ ᐆᒪᔪᐃᑦ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᓄᓇᖏᑦ.
ᐊᓂᒍᖅᓯᒪᓕᖅᑐᓂ ᐊᒥᒐᓴᐅᓕᖅᑐᓂᒃ ᖁᓕᐅᓈᖅᑎᖅᓯᒪᔪᓂ ᑭᖑᓕᕇᒃᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᕐᕌᒍᓂᒃ, ᐊᒥᓲᓂᖅᓴᐃᑦ ᐊᓯᖑᖅᓯᒪᓂᖏᑦ − ᓲᕐᓗ ᐊᒥᓲᖏᓂᖅᓴᐅᕙᓕᕐᓂᖏᑦ ᓇᑦᑏᑦ ᑕᐅᕙᓂ ᓂᒋᖅᐸᓯᐊᓂ ᐱᑕᖃᖅᐸᓚᐅᖅᑑᒐᓗᐊᑦ ᑕᐅᕙᓂᖅᐸᓯᒃ ᖃᒡᒋᐅᕋᖅᒥ − ᐊᖏᓂᖅᐹᓂᒃ ᐊᓯᖑᖅᓯᒪᓕᕐᒪᑕ ᑕᒪᑉᑯᐊᑦ ᐱᑕᖃᓕᕌᖓᒥᒃ ᓇᐅᒃᑰᕐᕕᒋᕙᒃᑕᒥᒍᑦ.
ᓄᓇᓕᖕᒥᓂ ᐱᒋᐊᑎᑦᑎᓯᒪᓕᖅᐳᑦ ᐊᕙᑎᓕᕆᓂᕐᒥᒃ ᓇᐅᑦᑎᖅᑐᐃᕙᖕᓂᖏᓐᓂ, ᐊᑐᖅᐸᓕᖅᓱᑎᒃ ᐊᐅᓪᓛᕐᕕᒋᔭᒥᒍᑦ ᐊᔾᔨᓕᐅᕈᑎᓂᒃ ᐊᒻᒪᓗ ᑕᕆᐅᕐᒥᒃ ᐃᒪᕐᒥᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᓴᒐᒃᓴᓂᒃ ᑲᑎᖅᓱᐃᕙᖕᓂᖅ, ᑕᓗᕐᔪᐊᕐᒥᐅᑦ ᐃᓄᐃᑦ, ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒃᑎᑦ ᐊᖅᖃᖅᑎᑐᑦ, ᐊᑯᓂᐊᓗᒃ ᖃᐅᔨᒪᔨᒋᔭᐅᓕᖅᑐᑦ ᐊᓯᖑᖅᐸᓪᓕᐊᓯᒪᔪᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᕗᒻᒥ. ᓄᓇᒥᐅᑕᓂᒃ ᐲᔭᐃᕝᕕᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᖏᓐᓇᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᒃ ᐅᔭᕋᖕᓂᐊᖅᑎᓄᑦ ᐅᑭᐅᖅᑕᖅᑐᒥ, ᓄᓇᖏᓐᓂ ᐱᓗᐊᖅᑐᒥᒃ ᕼᐊᐳᒻᒥᔭᐅᕙᓪᓕᐊᓕᖅᐳᑦ ᐅᔾᔨᖅᑐᑦᑎᐊᕈᒪᓂᕐᒥᓄᑦ ᐅᔭᕋᖕᓂᐊᕐᕕᐅᖁᔨᖏᓐᓂᖅ ᐊᕐᕕᖅᑑᕐᒥᒃ.
“ᐆᒪᔪᐃᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐊᓘᖕᒪᑕ ᐅᕙᑉᑎᓐᓄᑦ ᑕᒫᓂ, ᓂᕿᒃᓴᖅᑖᕐᕕᒋᕙᒃᑕᑐᐊᕆᒐᑉᑎᒍᑦ,” ᐅᖃᓚᐅᖅᑐᖅ ᐊᖅᑲᖅ. “ᑕᒫᖓᑐᐊᑦᑎᐊᖅ ᐃᓄᒃᓯᐅᑎᒪᕆᖕᓂᒃ ᓂᕿᑖᕐᕕᐅᕙᖕᒪᑦ ᓄᓇᒋᔭᕗᑦ, ᑕᐃᒪᐃᓂᖓᓄᑦ ᐱᒻᒪᕆᐅᕗᖅ ᓴᐳᒻᒥᔭᐅᑦᑎᐊᕆᐊᖃᕐᓂᖏᑦ ᑕᒪᒃᑯᐊ ᐊᖑᓇᓱᒡᕕᒋᕙᒃᑕᕗᑦ.”
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Ellen Firth comes from a big family in Inuvik, in the northwestern corner of the Northwest Territories, where she was raised on the land until she was nine years old when she was forced to come into town and attend residential school. With a home base in the city, she now spends as much time as she can with her family out on the land at their cabin.
The 63-year-old raised several of her own children out on the land and now, with 14 grandkids, she’s showing the ropes to the next generation. A talented hunter, trapper and fisher, Firth knows how important it is to pass on her knowledge to her family and community. She also hopes to teach at the local school in Aklavik.
She has noticed big changes at her cabin over the last five years. The weather is getting warmer, blueberries are ripening earlier, beavers are taking over, fish are declining and the water levels are low. Firth believes that returning to a more traditional way of life, educating the youth in the community to respect the land, and putting a bounty on beavers are just some ways to help the territory remain healthy.
“The beavers, they're damming up everything — that's why we have such low water,” she said. “Ten years from now you won’t be able to make it out of one river to the next because of the beaver dams.”
Ellen Firth vizhehk’oo zhit giinleih, Inuvik, Northwest Territories gwats’àt diinchuh, gwatat diik’iindhat, vaghaii vanchoh nak’oh zhàk dhitin dài’ zheh danh gè’tr’oonahtan gwizhìt heelyaa geenit tr’oonjik. Kaiik’it gwizhit zheh di’in ts’àt jùk gweendoo gwatat dachan zheh di’in danh shik dizheh k’oo hàh diinch’uh.
Vaghaii 63 diinch’uh, ditr’iinin kat tthak gwatat diik’iindhat, jùk vicheii 14 goonlih ts’àt jùk agidanh chan gaguunahtanh. Nidhizrii, khyah t’ah’in ts’àt łuk kadi’in gwizhìt duulee nilii, dizheh k’oo ts’àt dikaiik’it t’angiinch’uu kat jidii gahdandaii gaguuhanahtan gwijiinchii goonlii ahdandaih. Aklavik danh gè’tr’oonahtan gwizhìt tr’iinin kat gaguuhanahtan gadiinjizhit.
Nagwidadhat ihłoo gwinli’ guuzhik gwatat vizheh goo’aii gwa’àn gwiiyeendoo ejuk goonlii gwinah’inh; gwindoo gwiniidhaa, jak zheii gwiiyeendoo khanh jidii tłok nijaazhih, tsèe’ gwiiyeendoo giinleii, łuk leii kwaa ts’àt chuu zhàk diinch’uh. Yeenoo nits’oo gwatat tr’igwiindài’ gwik’it tr’igwindaii, keej’it kat nan nits’òo chidhaa’ee gaguutr’oohanahtan ts’àt gwiiyeendoo tsèe’ nitr’ahaazrii tr’igwiłtsaii jì’ jii nikhwinagoo’ee gwa’an srìi tr’igwiheendaii, Firth jii gukiinjizhit.
“Tsèe’ kat nanii’ol leii gahtsii k’iighè’ chuu zhàk diinch’uh,” nuh. “Tsèe nanii’ol k’iighè’ jùk gwats’àt nagwidhat ihłak juutin tł’ee duuyeh han kak khehtak tr’igwahahtsah.”
Being on the land is in Annie Buckle’s blood. She has spent most of her life calling what we now know as the Northwest Territories home. Spending time at various family members' cabins growing up, where she was taught to live culturally and traditionally, the Gwich’in Elder now lives just outside of Aklavik.
“I said before I retire I was gonna go back on the land and live the way I want to live, because I never had that chance when I was working all the time,” Buckle said.
Now with a cabin and fish camp of her own, Buckle is passing on the culture and traditions she learned growing up to her nieces and nephews and their families.
Over her time living in Gwich’in territory, she has noticed a lot of differences in the species, land, water and weather around her and believes climate change to be a culprit. She’s noticed animals travelling closer to town and how the fires farther south affect the air quality in the north.
Buckle hopes that with a commitment by her community, dedicated leadership and the creation of Nation-based laws to protect the environment, they’ll have a fighting chance.
Annie Buckle gwatat gwindaii gwiiyeendoo vidaa zhit diinch’uh. Gwindaii tthak jii Northwest Territories danh gwiindài’. Diink’iindhat guuzhik vizhehk’oo nihłinehch’i’ gwatat guukaiik’it danh guuvah t’iinch’ù’, ezhik dài’ anjoo kat nits’oo Dinjii Zhuh gugwindaii gaguunahtan, jùk Aklavik ehghee gwich’inh.
“Gwitr’it t’igwił’in gehk’oh gwiniindhat gwichih gwatat gwits’ee hihshaa ts’àt nits’oo gwihdaii nihthan gwinjik gwihihdaih, gwitr’it t’igwił’in guuzhik jii gwinjik sheenjit goo’aih kwàh,” Buckle nùh.
Jùk Buckle gwatat zheh ts’àt łuk k’it di’in ts’àt diik’iindhat guuzhik nits’oo gwatat tr’igwindaii vatr’ooniłtin gwik’it vyuu kat ts’àt guuzhehk’oo gaguutr’oonahtanh.
Gwich’in nành kak gwindaii guuzhik nin, nan ts’àt chuu ejuk diinch’uu gwinah’inh, jii t’àt diinagoo’ee ejuk t’igwinjik k’iighe’ akoo dagoonch’uh niindhanh. Nin kat kaiik’it eghee kagugwah’aih ts’àt yi’eenji’ guk’an k’iighe’ north gwa’an vàh tr’idazhak gwiizuu gwinah’inh.
Dikaiik’it ts’àt vichit kat nan k’andehtr’inahtii gwidagwidįį’e’ gahahtsaa k’iighè’ nan gwiiyeendoo k’atr’ahnahtyaa, Buckle jii geenjit diinjidizhit.
Blueberry River First Nation
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Jared Davis, a member of Blueberry River First Nation in northeastern B.C., is the Cultural Protection Manager with his community’s Lands Department. After earning a degree in Native studies from the University of Alberta, he realized “there is only so much you can learn from a book and how important it is to reconnect with community and be on the land.” He moved back after he graduated.
Working as a cultural protection manager gave Davis a better understanding of the area’s people, wildlife and habitat and how his First Nation practices their treaty rights to hunt, fish and trap.
“We have deer and caribou, but definitely the moose and the elk are the most significant species that we hunt. We don't fish as much. There is fishing and ice fishing, but it’s not so much for food or sustenance for us. We mostly are big game hunters, as it is in our traditions and culture. Lots of dry-meat making and we have a lot of hard processing that leads to a lot of cultural material for moccasin making, fine art and ribbon-skirt making.’’
THREATS TO WILDLIFE
IN CANADA
To bring back biodiversity, we need to reduce the threats that are causing wildlife populations to decline and put proven conservation solutions into action. Even though we know a lot about what’s driving these declines, many of the biggest threats are still common today — and some have even accelerated since 1970.
On land, the most common pressures on wildlife populations assessed in the C-LPI include growing human populations, expanding cities (and infrastructure) and the conversion of land to farmland and livestock grazing. Marine populations are primarily affected by shipping, fishing and pollution.
Although threats to biodiversity exist across most habitats in Canada, areas under direct human pressures — particularly in the more densely populated south — experience the highest intensity. In these regions, multiple threats often overlap, increasing their cumulative impact. In marine ecosystems, the intensity of cumulative threats tends to decrease with distance from the coast, suggesting that terrestrial human activity can have significant downstream effects on ocean ecosystems.
When threats are introduced and allowed to intensify, the inherent interconnectedness of nature means that there can be a variety of compounding and cascading effects.
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SOLUTIONS FOR recovery
To stop and reverse wildlife loss in Canada and around the world, we need to find ways to meet human needs without further harming species or degrading and destroying their habitats. There is no one-size-fits-all solution — it will take coordinated action from communities, industry, government and others. But we know we must: