Canadian trapper Ray Gall tries to keep his balance on a dam and cautiously approaches a large black beaver that has become entangled in one of his traps.
Few people in this country can still make a living from this business, which dates back 400 years when the first indigenous people sold furs to people from Europe.
But thousands of Canadians, including those of Indigenous origin, still work in this now heavily regulated industry.
“It’s the oldest profession” in Canada, says Gall, 47, a city water worker who spends his free time trapping foxes, wolves and coyotes in the woods about a three-hour drive north of Toronto.
“There will always be a need for trappers, whether the market is there or not,” he comments, before untrapping the beaver carcass and packing it in a backpack, which he slings over his shoulder.
With human encroachment reducing animal habitats, winters getting shorter due to climate change, and fur prices falling, “trapping is getting harder and harder,” according to 70-year-old Indigenous trapper Tom Borg.
“It’s part of our heritage and it’s part of us. That is hard. It’s like having a piece of ourselves taken away from us,” he says, looking bleak.
The market is struggling under pressure from the boycott of luxury brands, the absence of Chinese customers since the pandemic began and now the loss of two key markets of Russia and Ukraine since Moscow invaded.
But Robin Horwath, head of the Fur Institute of Canada and executive director of the Ontario Fur Managers Federation, is optimistic things are about to turn around.
The situation is now “stable,” he says, having “dropped to a low point in the cycle.”
Furs tied up in bundles for auction
Canada is the world leader in the production of wild fur. In the 2019/2020 season, around 415,000 furs will be sold for a total of 13.8 million Canadian dollars (about 10 million euros).
At North Bay’s last major fur auction, about 350 kilometers north of Toronto, brokers are busy reviewing bids ahead of the big event, which is taking place online for the third straight year due to the pandemic.
In a huge warehouse, tens of thousands of animal skins – including lynx, foxes, wolves and black bears – hang in bundles on shelves, sorted by size, color and quality.
With catalog and pencil in hand, the broker Michel Roberge acts as the eye and hand of the foreign buyers, for whom he meticulously inspects each fur.
“Because it’s a luxury market, we’re the first to be affected in the event of a crisis,” says the Montreal retailer.
Coyote fur trim
Growing pressure from animal rights activists in Europe and North America has resulted in several major luxury brands such as Dolce & Gabbana, Burberry and Chanel phasing out the use of fur.
“The fur industry has been around for a long time, it’s our oldest, and it’s risen and fallen many, many times over the past 400 years,” said Mark Downey of Fur Harvesters Auction in North Bay.
“Canada Goose exiting the fur trade… was definitely a black day for the industry.”
But he’s sure other brands will fill the “void” left by the Canadian company, which announced last year that it would soon phase out the use of coyote fur on the hoods of its parkas – a feature that helped five decades ago has to keep the faces of adventurers warm in arctic climes.
Canadian industry will also struggle with a lack of access to markets in Ukraine and Russia – the latter is the second largest in the world but is being hit by internationally imposed economic sanctions.
“The war between Ukraine and Russia is a big handicap because our (other) big buyers from Greece, Italy and Turkey… sell their manufactured (fur) products to Russia and Ukraine,” Downey explained who is affected by the sanctions.
“But (the industry) will come back,” he said. “The demand is huge”, especially in Asia. (AFP)
This article was previously published on FashionUnited.uk. Translation and editing: Barbara Russ