As Waswanipi tallyman Johnny Cooper prepares to have a second toe amputated following an unfortunate accident two years ago, he’s going to the media in hopes of finally receiving justice from the Cree forestry company that he blames for robbing his liberty and livelihood.
“Let me say that it is without prejudice of any specific person that I tell my story,” Cooper told the Nation. “It’s more me that’s annoyed for being ignored by the forestry company. It’s been two years, and we still haven’t gotten anywhere – I froze my foot and I’m about to lose another toe.”
On the frigid morning of January 3, 2022, Cooper went out in search of dry wood to warm his cabin in the bush, where he spends up to 240 days a year. He is responsible for trapline W-16, 60 km north of Waswanipi, where he loves taking grandchildren for boat rides and hunting excursions.
With sled and chainsaw, he took his snowmobile that day to an open area recently cut by Mishtuk Corporation, a band-owned company – of which Cooper was the first director general in 1984. Heading back for lunch around noon, he took a 9-km ride to check on the logging site.
Coming over a hill, it was clear the loggers hadn’t respected his request to not cross a trail used by ancestors to access the trapline’s southwest side. Attempting to navigate between a gravel pit and sloping hill as he investigated further, a snow-drift forced his snowmobile into an eight-foot hole.
After trying for hours to extricate his machine, Cooper realized the sun was setting. Since he’d left his snowshoes where he was cutting firewood, he was forced to trudge back through three feet of snow armed with just a packsack and thermos of tea when the temperature was minus-28.
“It was cold as hell,” recalled Cooper. “The north wind was coming in off the swamp really hard and I kept walking. Finally, around 9 o’clock I was halfway across my destination. When I see my camp, I’m really happy. I was tired, burned out, freezing cold.”
Alarmed at his frozen face, his worried wife quickly roared the fire, made hot tea and removed his icy boots. After trying a few days to thaw out his foot and recover, Cooper returned to the community for medical help. His brothers came to free the skidoo – it took six men.
“About a week later, my family members came to see me and said this wouldn’t have happened if they respected the consultations about not crossing the trail,” said Cooper. “My sister said your whole livelihood is in the bin and you’re our providing hunter. Now we’re going to lose you – sue their ass.”
With Cree Nation Government people taking pictures for a report and Mishtuk’s president immediately suggesting an out-of-court settlement, Chief Irene Neeposh directed the band lawyer to draft an agreement-in-principle, seeking an amiable solution that protected other tallymen from such situations.
However, Mishtuk responded to Cooper by saying that the company was unaware of the incident and to expect a call from their lawyer. When a meeting was eventually arranged, there was no willingness to accept the proposed settlement but only a complaint about Cooper’s family who had apparently pleaded his case.
“I had the impression he was trying to make it an internal conflict within the family,” Cooper said. “I came to Montreal to see another lawyer for a second opinion, a firm very well known by the Crees. He said we represent a lot of Cree companies, and our firm does not go against any Cree – we can’t handle your case.”
Heading back north for medical visits, specialists and therapies, Cooper’s inquiries to Mishtuk went unanswered. Staggering from special shoes and a cane to balance his walk, a woman hollered out her window: “Johnny, stop drinking!” His right foot’s nerves are damaged, a toe is turning black and, newly sensitive to the cold, he can no longer snowshoe.
Browsing through past consultation meeting minutes and mappings, the conciliator had assured there were “certain access roads to be modified to prevent problematic crossings over traditional trapline trails.” While the ribbon line for loggers to follow ended before the trail when Cooper checked in autumn, the ribbons had changed when he returned in winter.
“They just kept going, wrecked my trail, built a road over it,” lamented the 69-year-old tallyman. “It can’t be a human error. The people they hired are given maps with areas of interest. If there’s no ribbon there they just keep going. It was too late; the machines had already completed the thing.”
Although nearly all Waswanipi tallymen have grievances over disrespected forestry agreements, the bureaucracy involved with the provincial forestry board makes litigation more challenging. Cooper is well aware that the 2002 Paix des Braves agreement included a settlement with forestry companies – he was the official translator during those negotiations.
Mishtuk, on the other hand, was not included in the agreement. Cooper knows of another tallyman who successfully took them to court. While he hasn’t yet pursued the case with another lawyer, but he said if media attention doesn’t work then he’ll have no choice.
A Mishtuk spokesperson said that these are only allegations and had no further comment.
“I’m treading very lightly with this thing for community respect,” explained Cooper. “I respect these people, but they don’t seem to have respect for me. Even the former Chief said, ‘Johnny, you waited too long. Just go to court. If they wait that long, they don’t respect you.’”
A gifted singer-songwriter whose “Bless Me Now” video has 71,000 views, Cooper is reflective about the sad turn his life has taken. Still puzzled by why the consultations weren’t respected, Cooper questioned the communication lapses that repeatedly ignore tallyman wishes.
“This is my last resort,” shared Cooper. “There is no new horizon for me. I’ve seen all kinds of things happen. If this is the only way some people will understand, let it be so.”