logo
Emergency response to deadly Lac du Bonnet wildfire to be reviewed, reeve says

Emergency response to deadly Lac du Bonnet wildfire to be reviewed, reeve says

Yahoo18-05-2025

When Glennda Gould fled her home in Manitoba's wildfire-stricken Lac du Bonnet area this week, it wasn't because she'd gotten a notification telling her to evacuate — it was because the smoke had finally gotten so bad she felt like she couldn't stay any longer.
Gould said she was aware of the nearby fire. Before she left, she was outside watering her lawn, trying to keep the ground wet enough to protect her home if the flames approached. But she thought she'd get some notice when the blaze was getting close enough to become a threat to her.
"I was expecting, actually, someone to come to the door and say it was time to leave, or the phone to go off through the emergency notification service that we've subscribed to," Gould said. "It didn't happen."
Gould says her experience raises concerns about whether the Rural Municipality of Lac du Bonnet's local emergency response let people know to evacuate quickly enough, and whether the provincial emergency notification system should have been used.
"I think it's a learning opportunity," she told host Marcy Markusa in a Friday interview with CBC's Information Radio. "I think we rely far too much on things like Facebook and email, and not everybody has that…. I wasn't the only one who said that they didn't get a notification to evacuate."
Loren Schinkel, the municipality's reeve, said the community posted alerts on social media, used the local emergency notification system Gould said she expected would alert her, and in some cases sent people door-to-door to issue evacuation orders.
But Schinkel also noted just how quickly the Lac du Bonnet fire spread — and the fact that some areas in the community have poor cellphone reception.
"So is that the fault? You know, I can't tell you that," he said Friday. "At the end of this, we're going to sit down and we're going to do a very thorough, fulsome review of what took place here. If we can do something better, by all means, we're all for that."
The Lac du Bonnet fire — which as of Friday afternoon was estimated to be over 4,000 hectares in size — has turned deadly, taking the lives of a couple who reportedly got trapped at a family home in the municipality and were discovered on Wednesday morning.
WATCH | Manitoba couple killed in wildfire identified:
Schinkel said Friday the fire had been contained to the same boundaries that were established on Tuesday, when the blaze was first reported, and crews were dealing with hot spots to ensure it doesn't flare up again.
Why no provincial emergency alert?
When asked Thursday why Manitoba's emergency alert system — which sends alerts to radio, TV and cellphones —wasn't used to let people know about the wildfire evacuations, Premier Wab Kinew said using that tool "has been part of the discussion," but it wasn't ultimately employed because it wasn't part of the municipality's emergency plan.
"When we talk about the response, we're talking about following a plan that has been set up and drilled and practised. And because of that prep work, we don't necessarily want to change, I guess, the M.O., unless there's a serious … call for that to happen," Kinew told reporters at a news conference.
"So I can tell you that the idea of putting out an emergency alert was part of the discussions that we've had. But in the first instance, we go with the plan that's been drilled locally."
Shelley Napier, managing director of Napier Emergency Consulting, said she thinks the premier's explanation makes a lot of sense — municipal governments are "very aware" of what's going on in their own communities, and it's not necessarily a great idea to have a higher level of government come in to overrule local plans, which are approved every year by the province, she said.
"They are stringent plans. They are tested, they are exercised, they are updated every single year," said Napier, who was previously a regional emergency manager in Manitoba's Interlake area before retiring from a 33-year career with the provincial Emergency Management Organization.
"There isn't a community that wants another level of government dictating stringent, 'you must do this, you must do that' [rules]. And the government doesn't work like that with the municipalities."
While that alert system may not have been part of Lac du Bonnet's emergency plan, Reeve Schinkel said Friday he would be open to using "anything that benefits communication" in the future.
"Our hearts go out to the people that feel that, you know, we've failed them," Schinkel told Markusa on Friday. "And if we can improve in some fashion, we'll certainly do that."
Having a plan one thing — knowing it another
Lac du Bonnet evacuee Michelle Potter said she tried to grab as many things as she could before leaving her home in the area this week, not knowing if it would still be standing when she was allowed to return.
Potter said she soon realized just how ill-prepared she was for that kind of emergency. Her daughter, Emily Potter, was in a similar situation, and said she'd encourage people to have "a more extensive evacuation plan" than they did.
WATCH | Lac du Bonnet residents recount evacuation as wildfire raged nearby:
"I know that I didn't have any plans, and I think you need to be tapped in with your … local RM and your local town, and know what's going on at all times," Emily said on CBC News Network this week.
"Nobody plans for something like this to happen, but you need to be able to get out quickly."
Emergency consultant Napier said while it's important for communities to have solid plans, what's crucial is reviewing and practising those plans, so municipal staff and residents actually know what to do the moment they're thrust into an emergency.
"An emergency plan is simply words on paper in a binder. It's not going to keep you safe," Napier said.
"We can't predict when we're going to get another large-scale tornado. We can't predict when the weather is going to be like this, and it kicks up so hot. But I know this from my career in emergency management, that being prepared is going to save your life."

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

In Motherhood, Can We Stop Using the Phrase ‘One and Done‘?
In Motherhood, Can We Stop Using the Phrase ‘One and Done‘?

Vogue

time11 hours ago

  • Vogue

In Motherhood, Can We Stop Using the Phrase ‘One and Done‘?

Just the one? So, are you one and done? Oh…he's an only child? I've been asked innumerable iterations of this question—typically by total strangers—since I had my son five years ago. But after experiencing postpartum depression not once, but twice, I've been ambivalent about having another baby, so my answer to this invasive, all-too-common inquiry is complicated. Some days, the language we use to talk about 'only' children makes me feel judged, or somehow less than mothers with multiple kids. Other days, I feel annoyed that questions about family planning have become as quotidian as discussing the weather. Either way, these conversations have made it clear just how many people still believe that when it comes to children, one is the loneliest number. If we remove emotion from the equation and look solely at the data, it makes sense why more families are deciding to stop at one. A recent study showed that in 2025, the average cost of raising a child until the age of 18 in the US is $300,000. This figure doesn't account for the cost of post-secondary education, which in Canada (where I am from) is expected to rise to over $100,000 for a four-year university education. In Canada, one-child families are already the most common type, representing 45% of households with kids, while the average American family downsized from 3.7 children in 1960 to 1.9 currently. With these economic pressures alone, it seems only logical that the one-child family trend will continue. But logic doesn't seem to be the leading influence when we're talking about adding more kids to the mix. In her 2013 book One and Only: The Freedom of Having an Only Child, and the Joy of Being One, Lauren Sandler writes that the reason the decision is so nuanced is because 'children are a desire, not a calculation.' I've observed how my own desire to do the 'right' thing for my child has made the age-old arguments for a second that much more persuasive. We all know them: A sibling is a lifelong friend for your child, they can keep each other busy, they'll never be lonely! It helps with socialization and learning to share. More children can share the responsibility of caring for their aging parents. There's just as much, if not more, rhetoric about the problematic nature of only children. In the late 1800s, two child psychologists coined the term only child syndrome to describe the negative traits that their research showed only children often possess, including being spoiled, selfish, maladjusted, and anti-social. I want the world for my son, of course—and yet I'm still not sure if I am up for doing it all over again. It's why I've found so much comfort in a viral TikTok video from a self-described 'one & done mom,' who argues that being a mother of one allows women to choose motherhood as well as themselves. The comment section is filled with proud moms sharing what they've been able to do with their lives by deciding not to have a second child—from travelling to reaching career goals and having more time to do the things they love.

I was brainwashed into wearing a hijab. But Britain mustn't introduce a burka ban
I was brainwashed into wearing a hijab. But Britain mustn't introduce a burka ban

Yahoo

time20 hours ago

  • Yahoo

I was brainwashed into wearing a hijab. But Britain mustn't introduce a burka ban

I can still recall the first tentative day that I stepped outside my home not wearing my usual hijab but with my own pixie-cut hair on display and a breeze on my ears – a completely new feeling to was six years ago when I was 31 and studying for a master's degree in philosophy at the Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada. At the time I was married with a three-year-old son. I had worn the hijab since the age of nine, and had always felt it was part of the package of being a Muslim, but in recent years I had begun to have doubts. Islam has a set of rules which cover various aspects of Muslim life, from religious practices to personal matters. I had always been curious about these laws, and had previously completed a master's degree in Islamic studies. But the more I learnt the more I felt that the methodology of Islamic jurisprudence (the theory and philosophy of its rules) was problematic for women. I couldn't help seeing the laws, including wearing mandatory hijab, as essentially misogynistic. Wearing a hijab was also not common in Vancouver, which made me stand out considerably. For the first time I experienced what it truly meant to be a visible minority and it took a heavy toll on my mental health. One day, my son kept refusing to take my hand as we boarded the bus. The tired driver, concerned about safety, snapped at me that I needed parenting advice. I was deeply upset, but then found myself wondering if such a minor incident would have affected me so deeply if I hadn't been wearing a hijab? I questioned myself. As much as I love Islamic spirituality, did I really want to carry its 'flag' when I no longer believed that flag represented something good?It was a few days later that I wrote a post on social media, relaying this incident to my friends and colleagues and explaining that while I was still explicitly Muslim, I would no longer wear the hijab. The next day, when I walked into the university, I had mixed emotions of uncertainty, excitement and freedom. There were a few awkward encounters with colleagues who didn't recognise me. But most people were understanding, and I have not worn the hijab since. The decision was a key moment for my Muslim identity. For it seems being a Muslim woman today is tiresomely linked to wearing a hijab or burka. There is always a great debate. Should you cover your hair? Your face? Are these items symbols of oppression or merely an expression of faith? Oh, and we know how these topics fire up the public imagination. Sparks flew just recently in the House of Commons when Sarah Pochin, the Reform UK MP for Runcorn and Helsby, called on Sir Keir Starmer to 'ban the burka'.'Will he,' she asked from the back benches. 'In the interest of public safety, follow the lead of France, Belgium, Denmark and others and ban the burka?' Thankfully, the question got rebuffed by both the Prime Minister and Pochin's Reform UK colleagues, who said it was not their policy. But it still left me – now a post-doctoral researcher at the University of Manchester – feeling sad and threatened. I worried I might have been wrong in my perception of Britain as a liberal and tolerant place for different religions. Mainly what I struggle with, however – whenever the issue flares up in Parliament – is how on earth politicians think they can prescribe to women how to deal with such a complex and personal issue. For in my case alone, my perception of being a Muslim has changed considerably over time – and I am only 37. I grew up in Iran's capital, Tehran, a super-crowded city that was beautiful to me in many ways. I was surrounded by a loving, happy family, who were religious, but me especially so. As a child, I donned the hijab (the burka isn't big in Iran), and began fasting and praying. I came to love the three elements of Islam: the spirituality, the practising, and the community. And because I was an anxious child, I found an incomparable comfort from reading passages from the Koran and common prayers, while the rituals and rules calmed my busy mind and gave me a sense of satisfaction. I also benefited from the Muslim community that was shaped around anti-imperialist political ideas in Iran. I studied a chemical engineering degree at Sharif University in Tehran, but then – like so many of my educated friends – got married at 22 and moved to London (we had an almost semi-arranged marriage and are now divorced), and it was here that I first encountered the diversity of religious life. Unlike in Iran, I began to see that being religious could go with all types of lifestyles, and it gave me a new perception of how I could live. When we moved to Vancouver in 2017 (I wanted to study in America but Trump had banned Iranians from entering the US), I still wore my hijab. But my dislike for the misogynistic essence of Islamic laws which shaped the culture of my community began to grow. Politically I was also changing. I came to see the scale of crime and deception from the Islamic Republic in Iran, and I came to detest its version of anti-imperialism and its suppression of women. I did not want to give up on my spirituality but I began to refine my version of being Muslim, starting with removing the hijab. When I moved back to London in 2020, to begin a PhD in philosophy at the London School of Economics, my own beliefs were strengthened by those I met. In the prayer room at the university, for instance, I was very pleased to find Muslims like me with no hair covering befriending women in the full burka, and bonding over their common interest in Islam's spirituality. Now – six years on since I first removed my hair covering – I feel psychologically better. I have begun to think that although I had a happy childhood, I was perhaps brainwashed in some respects and probably missed out on exploring my feminine side and having a diverse social life. Now, I have chosen a version of being Muslim that is true to me, and to some extent I think I have inspired my own friends to do the same. As for the draining debate about the burka, I believe Muslim women wear it for all sorts of reasons. They may think it is part of a package of rules which is meant to strengthen their willpower and bring about a special type of spirituality. While I may think the rule is misogynistic, it does not imply that those who observe it are misogynists. But I also understand why some find it very offensive or dangerous. It is natural, perhaps evolutionary, to want to see someone's face in order to connect. And obviously, wearing a burka highlights that the person is an immigrant, and we know many in the UK do not like immigration. Still, the decision to wear a burka or not must be decided by the women themselves. It is very paternalistic for a government to decide how a person might practise their religion. Also, should it be banned, the Muslim community would be enraged. This is what happened in Iran in 1936 (before the Islamic Republic took over in 1978). The Shah Reza Khan Pahlavi banned head coverings in a bid to modernise the country. But that violation has remained in people's memories for generations. Despite the current hatred towards the Islamic Republic and mandatory hijab, people still rage for having their choice taken away. You have to remember, a ban does not just affect the one person wearing the burka. A large circle around that person will feel violated, regardless of whether they are Muslim or not. Also, even discussing such a ban can, I fear, cause a rise in Islamophobia. If you have a hidden tendency towards Islamophobia, and something public like this happens, it may only embolden you. Hopefully, however, nothing like this will happen. I have always felt there is something special about Britain – in how it treats Muslims and religions in general, and in how diverse and liberal it is in this regard. I really hope it stays that way. As told to Gwyneth Rees Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.

FEMA grant fuels goat-powered fire mitigation in Sacramento County
FEMA grant fuels goat-powered fire mitigation in Sacramento County

CBS News

time2 days ago

  • CBS News

FEMA grant fuels goat-powered fire mitigation in Sacramento County

Goats have become an all-too-familiar sight in the Greater Sacramento Region when California's wildfire season approaches. As we enter mid-June, goats are hard at work in Mather taking out dry brush to try and mitigate fires. But this year, Sacramento County says they're working with extra dollars to help those mitigation efforts, being awarded a FEMA grant just shy of $200,000. This means the county can cover areas prone to fire that they couldn't before. "In years past, we've had a large number of fires break out at our properties, and it's tragic, and we don't want to see it again," said Ken Casparis, county spokesperson. The county showed us a large section of land that the goats just mowed down, leaving no dry brush in sight. It's evidence of just how much vegetation these goats can take out in critical areas. "It's pretty much areas that are difficult for our manned crews to get to, and then if we have a lot of large open spaces, that would take a lot of staff time," Casparis said. Tim Arrowsmith, a managing partner of Western Grazers, a Northern California goat grazing company, says about 600 of his goats can get through a couple of acres. He says they rest in the winter and that the dry grass does little to keep them nourished. Arrowsmith said the goats need to be provided "minerals, a lot of salt and molasses" to stay healthy during the grazing season. Nearby neighbors couldn't be more thrilled about the visitors. "I love them because they're taking the fire hazard away from the perimeter of the neighborhood," said Adam Sotherland, who lives in the area. "It's nice having the furry creatures running around the neighborhood."

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store