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Doris Terri EnzoeSub-Chief
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Terri Enzoe was born on hazú (the barrenlands). Her parents, Elizabeth (Nitah) Enzoe and Billy Enzoe, named their daughter Doris (pronounced Door-ass), the Dënesųłıné version of Terese. Later, travelling by canoe, the family moved to Reliance, where there was a trading post, then eventually to Snowdrift as Łutsël K’é was then known. In the fall time, the family would relocate to the bush to trap and harvest, returning to the community at Christmas. The rest of the year, Billy Enzoe did odd jobs. Terri was raised with a foot in two worlds, though her heart is on the tundra.
Today, Terri, who lives in Łutsël K’é with her partner Andy, takes every opportunity to be out on the land, most often travelling with her son, Kyle, who she describes as “made for the bush.” (Terri is mother to three other children and grandmother to six.) When she’s in town, Terri can be found fixing meat, tanning hides, and sewing—her expertly crafted designs are available through Caribou People Creations.
Terri was a familiar face at the community meetings that were critical to the establishment of Thaidene Nëné. When she thinks about Thaidene Nëné, Terri recalls those meetings and the elders’ commitment to protecting the land for younger generations. “The elders knew that development was coming and that it might destroy our water and our animals,” Terri says. The elders called the area of land they wanted to protect, Thaidene Nëné. “Thaidene means long time ago, the old timers,” Terri explains. “Thaidene Nëné is where our ancestors used to live long time ago.”
It was Terri’s sister, Gloria Enzoe (now Shearing), who started Ni Hat’ni Dene, which means “watchers of the land” in Dënesųłıné, in 2008. Terri and her son, Kyle, applied because they were looking for a man and a woman to serve as guardians. Terri saw the utility in that approach: “That way you can bring young girls and young men out, to teach them both how to live off the land.”
Over ten summers, Terri worked closely with young women and men from the community, sharing her knowledge of how to live on the land, but also Dënesųłıné language and culture. She recalls, “We showed them spiritual places, burial sites, the places where our ancestors used to live. We showed them where you have to be quiet, where you have to pay the water. We showed them that this is a good place for stopping when it’s windy. This is a good place for fishing. And we’d tell them how it used to be long time ago.”
Terri has many stories from the decade that she spent travelling the land and water with Ni Hat’ni Dene. There was the time, for instance, they were winded for five days at the Ni Hat’ni cabin at Talthelie Narrows. Terri, Kyle, and the four summer interns busied themselves setting and pulling a net for fish sampling. Together the group processed 17 trout and 67 jumbo whitefish. Just as they finished, they turned around and there was a moose. After fixing the meat, the group travelled back to town. “I went to the store and told everyone, ‘There’s lots of fish, lots of moose.’ I spent the rest of the day giving away fish and meat,” Terri remembers with a big grin.
Today, Terri is a member of the Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation council and Sub-Chief of the community. In that capacity, she is supporting and helping to guide Łutsël K’é’s work in Thaidene Nëné.
Terri believes strongly that the success of Thaidene Nëné is directly related to youth: “We have to motivate our young people. We have to tell them how we used to live and how we’re going to live today. The life cycle has all changed now—it’s so different—but we still have to keep our old ways of living if we want to keep Thaidene Nëné.” This sharing of knowledge is critical to the future of the Indigenous protected area. Terri likens the way forward to a path: “If you follow those footprints, it will go on to the next generation and the ones after that. If you don’t, it stops there. The path ends. Then there’s no Thaidene Nëné.”
When he’s not advocating for his people and Thaidene Nëné, Darryl loves spending time on the land with his family, including his five children. Darryl was taught to travel and live on the land by his grandparents, George and Celine Marlowe and Henry King and Maryrose Boucher, and his parents, Kenneth and Elizabeth Boucher. He also found a skilled and willing mentor in his father-in-law, Archie Catholique, who’s been taking Darryl out hunting by boat and skidoo since he was 16.
It is not just the skills needed to be a hunter that were passed on to Darryl, but also Dënesųłıné ethics: “When we go out, we go out as a group. We hunt together and stay together. We help each other, we take care of each other. We also respect the land and the animal. Every time we harvest an animal, we are grateful. We put down tobacco. We say thank you to the animal’s spirit. That animal giving its life allows us to provide for our families.”
While Darryl loves to visit Ts’ąkuı Theda (Lady of the Falls) and Kaché (Fort Reliance), all of Thaidene Nëné is special for the chief, which is why he feels so strongly about the community’s decision to designate it an Indigenous protected area: “We are protecting the heart of our traditional territory from development for the long term. We want to ensure that our way of life, our culture, our land, our water, our animals will be protected for many years to come.”
In protecting Thaidene Nëné, the community of Łutsël K’é is seeking to realize the vision of their ancestors through guidance provided by the elders. Darryl explains, “Everything that we have done is for the future. That’s what our elders used to say: yunedhé xa, which means for the future. All of this work is for future generations. We are leaving them a legacy.”
Darryl wasn’t even born when the discussions of a park first surfaced, but he is honoured to have been able to be part of the process in recent years. In particular, he is proud of the way the community has worked with other partners to have portions of the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area designated as a national park reserve, a territorial protected area, and a wildlife conservation area: “I’m glad we took the initiative to develop relationships with two crown governments. At a time when people are talking about reconciliation, we are an example for the rest of the country.”
In addition to providing the heart of the community’s traditional territory with long-term protection from development, Darryl envisions other benefits for the community as they work to develop a tourism and conservation economy through Thaidene Nëné, including employment that is sustainable and meaningful for Łutsël K’é Dene.
Darryl is particularly enthusiastic about the possibilities afforded by Ni Hat’ni Dene. As Darryl notes, “It’s a dream job for people because they get to spend time out on the land.” As importantly, the community relies on the guardians “to ensure that people are being respectful of Łutsël K’é’s traditional territory.” At present, all of the guardians are men. Going forward, Darryl would like to see women on the crew: “They can inspire and open up opportunities for younger generations.”
With a national park reserve and territorial protected area within its borders, Thaidene Nëné will welcome visitors from across the territory, the country, and around the world. Darryl would like to remind visitors that Thaidene Nëné is sacred for the Łutsël K’é Dene, but also that the community depends on the land to sustain itself and its way of life: “Our elders modelled respect for the land. It is our responsibility as young leaders to do the same and to pass this teaching on to others.”
Returning to Canada, Larry immersed himself in Indigenous history and struggle. He became particularly interested in land claims, which led him to do a Masters in Environmental Studies at York University. Larry explains, “I was trying to critically understand the land claims process that required people to map their stories, that enframed Indigenous perspectives in lines on a map.” Larry conducted his graduate research with the Innu Nation in Labrador, marking the beginning of a professional relationship that continues today. After completing law school at the University of Victoria, Larry returned to Labrador, where his work with the Innu Nation focused on Indigenous lands and resource management strategies.
Larry’s introduction to the NWT came through the Canadian Boreal Initiative (CBI). As a relatively new organization in the early part of the new millennium, CBI was unique in bringing together Indigenous peoples, NGOs, and industry to recognize their shared interest in protecting the boreal forest: “CBI was trying to find a balanced approach, with a shared vision of protecting at least half of the boreal and using best management or stewardship practices on the reminder, all in a way that would advance Indigenous rights.” The Innu Nation with Larry as their legal counsel was at the table, as was Herb Norwegian, a key architect of the Dehcho Land Use Plan. Eventually, Larry would become the Executive Director of CBI, a position he held from 2005 until 2011.
It was during Larry’s time with CBI that he got to know people in Łutsël K’é. The community, with “the Steves” at the helm, was already looking at options for protecting their territory. Larry came on board to help Łutsël K’é identify different models and resources that could help advance their cause. In 2010, when Łutsël K’é formally entered into negotiations for Thaidene Nëné, Larry joined the table as LKDFN’s legal counsel, and his visits to the NWT became more frequent. Eventually, it just “made sense” for him to be here full time, and he relocated to Yellowknife, where he is now the partner responsible for the northern office of Olthuis Kleer Townshend (OKT), a nationally prominent Indigenous rights law firm.
While Łutsël K’é was committed to protecting their ancestral territory, they were equally concerned with having an agreement that would protect their rights as Łutsël K’é Dene. As the lawyer on the negotiating team, Larry took on many of the drafting responsibilities. More than putting words to paper, Larry’s task was to “make the words clear so that community members could see what they wanted translated into language that was legally enforceable.” It was also Larry’s job to push back against the government, and to create space for creative solutions.
Larry, having worked both as a negotiator and as legal counsel at land rights negotiation tables since the early 1990s, notes that every negotiation has a similar rhythm. “Parties bring their interests to the table and then try to fashion an agreement that works,” he explained. What was different about the Thaidene Nëné negotiations, Larry says, was that while the community mandate was clear, the direction given to government officials was less so and thus more open to creative interpretation. In the end, Łutsël K’é’s vision was able to prevail, something that, in Larry’s words, “doesn’t happen in conventional land claim negotiations, where governments have very firm lines.”
Less than two years into implementation, Larry’s hopes for the Indigenous protected area are already being realized. “I had hoped that Thaidene Nëné would provide inspiration to other communities wishing to protect their land and way of life.” And this is exactly what is happening. Larry is involved with several Indigenous conservation initiatives in the North that are able “to draw on the example of Thaidene Nëné and make it their own.” Larry also sees the impact that Łutsël K’é’s work is having beyond the North. He says, “I’ve stayed very close to the evolution of the discussion on how conservation functions at scale, but in particular how conservation can become anti-colonial. Thaidene Nëné is situated at the forefront of that conversation. It is a global model for conservation.”
The transformative power of Thaidene Nëné is evident in Łutsël K’é as well, visible in the work of the Thaidene Nëné Department, the Ni Hat’ni Dene Guardians, and in the community more broadly. “LKDFN members are seeing new futures and new possibilities that don’t require them to be anything other than who they are,” Larry observes. “This is such a change from the past, when white people said now you have to ‘do this or be that’. Łutsël K’é Dene get to be who they are and decide how they will manage their protected area.”
Though Larry has been working with Łutsël K’é for more than a decade, he feels like he has only “begun to scratch the surface of what Thaidene Nëné has to offer.” When asked about special places in the Land of the Ancestors, he makes note of Ts’ąkuı Theda (Our Lady of the Falls, Ɂedacho Kúe (Artillery Lake), and the village site at Kaché (Fort Reliance). Upon further reflection, though, he says, “It’s less a particular place than the impression of the entirety, the vastness. You can fit whole countries into Thaidene Nëné.”
For Larry, the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area is truly reflective of Łutsël K’é’s vision. “I had the good fortune to spend time with the elders in the early years and their vision was clear,” Larry recalls. “Protect the land, protect the Łutsël K’é Dene way of life, and ensure that future generations are able to use the land the way the ancestors did.” Now, when Larry visits Thaidene Nëné, he sees “the land as it was, and as it will always be.”
Today, Terri, who lives in Łutsël K’é with her partner Andy, takes every opportunity to be out on the land, most often travelling with her son, Kyle, who she describes as “made for the bush.” (Terri is mother to three other children and grandmother to six.) When she’s in town, Terri can be found fixing meat, tanning hides, and sewing—her expertly crafted designs are available through Caribou People Creations.
Terri was a familiar face at the community meetings that were critical to the establishment of Thaidene Nëné. When she thinks about Thaidene Nëné, Terri recalls those meetings and the elders’ commitment to protecting the land for younger generations. “The elders knew that development was coming and that it might destroy our water and our animals,” Terri says. The elders called the area of land they wanted to protect, Thaidene Nëné. “Thaidene means long time ago, the old timers,” Terri explains. “Thaidene Nëné is where our ancestors used to live long time ago.”
It was Terri’s sister, Gloria Enzoe (now Shearing), who started Ni Hat’ni Dene, which means “watchers of the land” in Dënesųłıné, in 2008. Terri and her son, Kyle, applied because they were looking for a man and a woman to serve as guardians. Terri saw the utility in that approach: “That way you can bring young girls and young men out, to teach them both how to live off the land.”
Over ten summers, Terri worked closely with young women and men from the community, sharing her knowledge of how to live on the land, but also Dënesųłıné language and culture. She recalls, “We showed them spiritual places, burial sites, the places where our ancestors used to live. We showed them where you have to be quiet, where you have to pay the water. We showed them that this is a good place for stopping when it’s windy. This is a good place for fishing. And we’d tell them how it used to be long time ago.”
Terri has many stories from the decade that she spent travelling the land and water with Ni Hat’ni Dene. There was the time, for instance, they were winded for five days at the Ni Hat’ni cabin at Talthelie Narrows. Terri, Kyle, and the four summer interns busied themselves setting and pulling a net for fish sampling. Together the group processed 17 trout and 67 jumbo whitefish. Just as they finished, they turned around and there was a moose. After fixing the meat, the group travelled back to town. “I went to the store and told everyone, ‘There’s lots of fish, lots of moose.’ I spent the rest of the day giving away fish and meat,” Terri remembers with a big grin.
Today, Terri is a member of the Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation council and Sub-Chief of the community. In that capacity, she is supporting and helping to guide Łutsël K’é’s work in Thaidene Nëné.
Terri believes strongly that the success of Thaidene Nëné is directly related to youth: “We have to motivate our young people. We have to tell them how we used to live and how we’re going to live today. The life cycle has all changed now—it’s so different—but we still have to keep our old ways of living if we want to keep Thaidene Nëné.” This sharing of knowledge is critical to the future of the Indigenous protected area. Terri likens the way forward to a path: “If you follow those footprints, it will go on to the next generation and the ones after that. If you don’t, it stops there. The path ends. Then there’s no Thaidene Nëné.”
When he’s not advocating for his people and Thaidene Nëné, Darryl loves spending time on the land with his family, including his five children. Darryl was taught to travel and live on the land by his grandparents, George and Celine Marlowe and Henry King and Maryrose Boucher, and his parents, Kenneth and Elizabeth Boucher. He also found a skilled and willing mentor in his father-in-law, Archie Catholique, who’s been taking Darryl out hunting by boat and skidoo since he was 16.
It is not just the skills needed to be a hunter that were passed on to Darryl, but also Dënesųłıné ethics: “When we go out, we go out as a group. We hunt together and stay together. We help each other, we take care of each other. We also respect the land and the animal. Every time we harvest an animal, we are grateful. We put down tobacco. We say thank you to the animal’s spirit. That animal giving its life allows us to provide for our families.”
While Darryl loves to visit Ts’ąkuı Theda (Lady of the Falls) and Kaché (Fort Reliance), all of Thaidene Nëné is special for the chief, which is why he feels so strongly about the community’s decision to designate it an Indigenous protected area: “We are protecting the heart of our traditional territory from development for the long term. We want to ensure that our way of life, our culture, our land, our water, our animals will be protected for many years to come.”
In protecting Thaidene Nëné, the community of Łutsël K’é is seeking to realize the vision of their ancestors through guidance provided by the elders. Darryl explains, “Everything that we have done is for the future. That’s what our elders used to say: yunedhé xa, which means for the future. All of this work is for future generations. We are leaving them a legacy.”
Darryl wasn’t even born when the discussions of a park first surfaced, but he is honoured to have been able to be part of the process in recent years. In particular, he is proud of the way the community has worked with other partners to have portions of the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area designated as a national park reserve, a territorial protected area, and a wildlife conservation area: “I’m glad we took the initiative to develop relationships with two crown governments. At a time when people are talking about reconciliation, we are an example for the rest of the country.”
In addition to providing the heart of the community’s traditional territory with long-term protection from development, Darryl envisions other benefits for the community as they work to develop a tourism and conservation economy through Thaidene Nëné, including employment that is sustainable and meaningful for Łutsël K’é Dene.
Darryl is particularly enthusiastic about the possibilities afforded by Ni Hat’ni Dene. As Darryl notes, “It’s a dream job for people because they get to spend time out on the land.” As importantly, the community relies on the guardians “to ensure that people are being respectful of Łutsël K’é’s traditional territory.” At present, all of the guardians are men. Going forward, Darryl would like to see women on the crew: “They can inspire and open up opportunities for younger generations.”
With a national park reserve and territorial protected area within its borders, Thaidene Nëné will welcome visitors from across the territory, the country, and around the world. Darryl would like to remind visitors that Thaidene Nëné is sacred for the Łutsël K’é Dene, but also that the community depends on the land to sustain itself and its way of life: “Our elders modelled respect for the land. It is our responsibility as young leaders to do the same and to pass this teaching on to others.”
Returning to Canada, Larry immersed himself in Indigenous history and struggle. He became particularly interested in land claims, which led him to do a Masters in Environmental Studies at York University. Larry explains, “I was trying to critically understand the land claims process that required people to map their stories, that enframed Indigenous perspectives in lines on a map.” Larry conducted his graduate research with the Innu Nation in Labrador, marking the beginning of a professional relationship that continues today. After completing law school at the University of Victoria, Larry returned to Labrador, where his work with the Innu Nation focused on Indigenous lands and resource management strategies.
Larry’s introduction to the NWT came through the Canadian Boreal Initiative (CBI). As a relatively new organization in the early part of the new millennium, CBI was unique in bringing together Indigenous peoples, NGOs, and industry to recognize their shared interest in protecting the boreal forest: “CBI was trying to find a balanced approach, with a shared vision of protecting at least half of the boreal and using best management or stewardship practices on the reminder, all in a way that would advance Indigenous rights.” The Innu Nation with Larry as their legal counsel was at the table, as was Herb Norwegian, a key architect of the Dehcho Land Use Plan. Eventually, Larry would become the Executive Director of CBI, a position he held from 2005 until 2011.
It was during Larry’s time with CBI that he got to know people in Łutsël K’é. The community, with “the Steves” at the helm, was already looking at options for protecting their territory. Larry came on board to help Łutsël K’é identify different models and resources that could help advance their cause. In 2010, when Łutsël K’é formally entered into negotiations for Thaidene Nëné, Larry joined the table as LKDFN’s legal counsel, and his visits to the NWT became more frequent. Eventually, it just “made sense” for him to be here full time, and he relocated to Yellowknife, where he is now the partner responsible for the northern office of Olthuis Kleer Townshend (OKT), a nationally prominent Indigenous rights law firm.
While Łutsël K’é was committed to protecting their ancestral territory, they were equally concerned with having an agreement that would protect their rights as Łutsël K’é Dene. As the lawyer on the negotiating team, Larry took on many of the drafting responsibilities. More than putting words to paper, Larry’s task was to “make the words clear so that community members could see what they wanted translated into language that was legally enforceable.” It was also Larry’s job to push back against the government, and to create space for creative solutions.
Larry, having worked both as a negotiator and as legal counsel at land rights negotiation tables since the early 1990s, notes that every negotiation has a similar rhythm. “Parties bring their interests to the table and then try to fashion an agreement that works,” he explained. What was different about the Thaidene Nëné negotiations, Larry says, was that while the community mandate was clear, the direction given to government officials was less so and thus more open to creative interpretation. In the end, Łutsël K’é’s vision was able to prevail, something that, in Larry’s words, “doesn’t happen in conventional land claim negotiations, where governments have very firm lines.”
Less than two years into implementation, Larry’s hopes for the Indigenous protected area are already being realized. “I had hoped that Thaidene Nëné would provide inspiration to other communities wishing to protect their land and way of life.” And this is exactly what is happening. Larry is involved with several Indigenous conservation initiatives in the North that are able “to draw on the example of Thaidene Nëné and make it their own.” Larry also sees the impact that Łutsël K’é’s work is having beyond the North. He says, “I’ve stayed very close to the evolution of the discussion on how conservation functions at scale, but in particular how conservation can become anti-colonial. Thaidene Nëné is situated at the forefront of that conversation. It is a global model for conservation.”
The transformative power of Thaidene Nëné is evident in Łutsël K’é as well, visible in the work of the Thaidene Nëné Department, the Ni Hat’ni Dene Guardians, and in the community more broadly. “LKDFN members are seeing new futures and new possibilities that don’t require them to be anything other than who they are,” Larry observes. “This is such a change from the past, when white people said now you have to ‘do this or be that’. Łutsël K’é Dene get to be who they are and decide how they will manage their protected area.”
Though Larry has been working with Łutsël K’é for more than a decade, he feels like he has only “begun to scratch the surface of what Thaidene Nëné has to offer.” When asked about special places in the Land of the Ancestors, he makes note of Ts’ąkuı Theda (Our Lady of the Falls, Ɂedacho Kúe (Artillery Lake), and the village site at Kaché (Fort Reliance). Upon further reflection, though, he says, “It’s less a particular place than the impression of the entirety, the vastness. You can fit whole countries into Thaidene Nëné.”
For Larry, the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area is truly reflective of Łutsël K’é’s vision. “I had the good fortune to spend time with the elders in the early years and their vision was clear,” Larry recalls. “Protect the land, protect the Łutsël K’é Dene way of life, and ensure that future generations are able to use the land the way the ancestors did.” Now, when Larry visits Thaidene Nëné, he sees “the land as it was, and as it will always be.”