A selection of my published works, photographic, written, or both
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Photos in Bold: Hunting for Food, Shooting to Stay Grateful
Words and photos by Mason Bramadat
Photography is an amazing tool for connecting with the natural environment. Yes, it’s distracting when your hiking partner stops every five minutes for a selfie, or when you’re asked to model for the ‘gram in all your sweaty glory. There’s certainly a time and place. But the viewfinder can also keep us grounded, refocusing our attention on the beauty of our surroundings.
I started taking photos on my iPhone when I was sixteen, to capture the amazing sights I came across while exploring Yukon Territory’s endless backcountry. I wanted to share the kaleidoscopic colours of the boreal forest and the immensity of Kluane National Park's rugged mountains. To show these vast landscapes’ complexity within a single image, I carefully considered their details. I found myself tuning into the stability of ancient roots, the serenity of still tarns and the fluidity of talus slopes. Looking for compositions reminded me to pause, to cherish nature’s wonders.
This trick has proven itself to me time and time again in the backcountry, though nowhere as strongly as in hunting.
I started taking photos on my iPhone when I was sixteen, to capture the amazing sights I came across while exploring Yukon Territory’s endless backcountry. I wanted to share the kaleidoscopic colours of the boreal forest and the immensity of Kluane National Park's rugged mountains. To show these vast landscapes’ complexity within a single image, I carefully considered their details. I found myself tuning into the stability of ancient roots, the serenity of still tarns and the fluidity of talus slopes. Looking for compositions reminded me to pause, to cherish nature’s wonders.
This trick has proven itself to me time and time again in the backcountry, though nowhere as strongly as in hunting.
A windy boat ride into Dall’s sheep country at sunrise. On the Traditional Territories of the Carcross/Tagish First Nation and the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations.
To my family, hunting is a very reverent practice. Every fall for over 30 years, my dad has gone into central Yukon’s expansive natural environment to get a moose. He floats down clear rivers with sweet water, tracing through thickly wooded hills over which sandhill cranes migrate. Wherever he walks, his bootprints mix with traces left by the area’s permanent residents, including beavers, black bears and wolves. He is grateful to be a guest in their wonderful home.
One moose nourishes our family of four for over a year, and the entire process, from buying bullets to roasting ribs, is done with respect and appreciation for the animal. For example, when Dad downs a moose, he takes a moment to thank it for giving its life. He carefully keeps the meat cold, dry and clean to ensure it doesn’t spoil before it reaches our freezer. Over the past few years, my sister and I have started hunting by his side, quietly learning his respect for nature and practicing the same duty of care.
One moose nourishes our family of four for over a year, and the entire process, from buying bullets to roasting ribs, is done with respect and appreciation for the animal. For example, when Dad downs a moose, he takes a moment to thank it for giving its life. He carefully keeps the meat cold, dry and clean to ensure it doesn’t spoil before it reaches our freezer. Over the past few years, my sister and I have started hunting by his side, quietly learning his respect for nature and practicing the same duty of care.
Quietly learning from Dad’s 30+ years of moose hunting experience. On the Traditional Territories of the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyak Dun, Selkirk First Nation and Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in First Nation.
I’ve now had the pleasure of experiencing seven hunts with family and friends, for both moose and Dall’s sheep. These animals live in very different landscapes and the experience of hunting them is worlds apart. For moose, you’ll likely find yourself trudging through muddy marshes in giant rubber boots, whereas you’ll probably end up scaling vertical boulder fields with a 60-pound pack to get a sheep. In both cases, you’ll be surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery you’ve ever seen, determined to bring home the bacon.
Dad, like me, probably wished he had hooves. On the Traditional Territories of the Carcross/Tagish First Nation and the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations.
Like with any meaningful pursuit, hunting can be overwhelming. After months in the gym doing split squats, weeks prepping gear and countless hours practicing shooting, it’s easy to put pressure on yourself once you’re out there. The healthy ambition that motivates you to step into your frozen boots before sunrise can sour into a feeling of stressful urgency if you become too concerned with getting an animal. Getting caught up in this way of thinking has caused me undue worry and frustration.
A smoky, moonlit first night at base camp. On the Traditional Territory of the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations.
During my first moose hunt, I hyperventilated while lining up a shot, my crosshairs imitating a frightened rabbit. It wouldn’t have been ethical for me to pull the trigger then; I would’ve risked just wounding the animal. Two years ago, in pursuit of a distant herd of sheep, I hiked until sunset, then laid right down on the ground to sleep. In my ambition, away from base camp with insufficient gear, I got hypothermic and so tired that I could hardly walk the next morning. Just last summer, I rushed a sheep stalk, oblivious to the breeze blowing in its direction. It smelled us and made a beeline up the mountain, into impassable cliffs. After days in the backcountry, I knew I probably smelled bad, but that was just embarrassing!
Regaining our breath, and inner peace, after a blown stalk. On the Traditional Territories of the Carcross/Tagish First Nation and the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations.
Most regrettably, getting caught up in the goal of a successful harvest undermines my appreciation for the natural wonders surrounding me. In these moments, I ignore the confident glow of golden autumn leaves, the wise expressions on weathered mountain faces or the soft tenacity of moss campion on alpine boulders. I forget how privileged I am just to be immersed in nature and my ability to meaningfully connect with it dissipates.
When I’ve been lost in this haste, photography has put me back on track. Guiding my lens through the scene, I refocus on the landscapes around me. The process of looking for shots holds me accountable, reminding me to smell autumn’s crisp air, feel the warmth of sunrise and listen to the wind’s music.
When I’ve been lost in this haste, photography has put me back on track. Guiding my lens through the scene, I refocus on the landscapes around me. The process of looking for shots holds me accountable, reminding me to smell autumn’s crisp air, feel the warmth of sunrise and listen to the wind’s music.
Soaking up the sun, eyes peeled for Dall’s sheep. On the Traditional Territory of the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations.
My experience with hunting, as well as hiking, skiing, canoeing and a myriad of other outdoor activities, has shown me that photography is a grounding practice whenever you set an objective. A great reminder that the ultimate aim is not just the summit, a particular line or a personal best time. It’s also to deeply connect with the landscape. So whatever your outdoor adventure, if you find yourself overwhelmed by the goal, try picking up your camera.
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Finding the way forward in urban green spaces
A guide to revitalizing our relationships with the land
Words and photos by Mason Bramadat
Originally published in The Tribune April 2, 2024
Three weeks ago, I had a spiritual awakening while photographing raccoons.
It all started 23 years ago. I am lucky to have been raised in Yukon Territory, where our population of around 40,000 is immersed in a patch of wilderness larger than California. Opportunities for connecting with the land are plentiful, and nature generously served as one of my primary caretakers and educators throughout my childhood. I learned to trust the trees, whose strong branches offered perfect perches for people-watching. I was taught spoken word by the ravens and their many musical calls. I was humbled by the massive, resolute power of the Yukon River, whose waters cracked and crumpled the winter’s ice each spring. Now, looking back, I realize that this wild playground also facilitated my healthy psychological development. It provided endless opportunities for happy play and mental stimulation. The amazing complexity of these ecosystems fostered my strong connection to and curiosity toward the environment. Above all, nature gave me the sense that I have an unalienable place in this world. This protective factor has supported my health in ways I may never fully understand.
When I came to Montreal to pursue my studies, I watched Mont Royal’s leaves burst into autumn colours with the same bright eyes with which I had watched wild cranberries glow translucent in the crisp morning light that follows the first frost. But soon, as I navigated the process of prioritizing my seemingly endless academic, work, and social responsibilities, I slowly forgot to make space for my relationship with nature. Under the stress and obligations that can accompany a busy student life, I lost touch with my love for the land.
Then, earlier this month, inspired by Peter Mather’s work on urban foxes, I was struck by the urge to photograph raccoons in and around the city. So one night, my trusted adventure partner Nate and I set out for the Camilien-Houde lookout on Mount Royal’s northern slope. As we walked along the park’s trails, the forest’s canopy shielded us from the city’s lights. We heard the scuttling of squirrels in overflowing garbage cans. Nervous flashes of fur leapt across our path, indicating that we had stirred up a resting rabbit. Branches scratched eerily as they danced in the breeze. Finally, we arrived at the lookout. After an hour of sitting on a cold bench, eating delicious chili and sipping local brews, out of the bushes came two raccoons. I scrambled to get my camera, snapped a few pics, and revelled in the raccoons’ polite curiosity. When we had gotten our fill, we made our way back down the mountain, giddy with success. Back home, lying in bed, I realized that our adventure had reawakened a feeling in me that had been dormant for too long. Spending time in the park had not only rekindled my connection with the land but also inspired me to investigate others’ experiences with urban nature.
Curious about what value urban nature brought to different people, I reached out to Lisa Mintz, an environmentalist who has been involved in multiple projects aiming to save green spaces from construction in Montreal. Like me, Mintz’s appreciation for nature began at home, having had access to a cottage and a large green space near her home in Toronto. However, when she moved to Montreal, she felt a void. She eventually realized that losing access to those green spaces deprived her of the psychological and spiritual benefits they had once offered.
Then, she discovered the raw, tangled beauty of the Saint-Jacques escarpment, a strip of forested land four kilometres long which, according to Mintz, has hosted over 70 species of birds, as well as deer and brown snakes. In 2015, Mintz was shocked and disturbed to see that a section of this forest had been levelled by bulldozers. She joined with other community members who shared her appreciation for the green space, and together they moved to protect it. In this process, Mintz founded Sauvons la Falaise!—an initiative that at first cleared pathways, removed garbage, documented wildlife, and filled bird feeders in the escarpment. In doing so, the group’s members made this stretch of urban nature their own and demonstrated just how valuable its preservation was to their community. Finally, in 2020, the City of Montreal announced that a green corridor would be added to the base of the escarpment, that trees and other vegetation would be planted to extend the forest, and that the area would eventually be designated as a grand parc.
In addition to her efforts to ensure the escarpment’s preservation, Mintz has enabled more people in the community to learn and reap the benefits of green spaces. She also co-founded UrbaNature, an organization dedicated to outdoor education, promoting the mental, physical, and spiritual benefits of being in nature. UrbaNature hosts university researchers and offers programming for people of all ages, including nature walks and summer day camps. All of these programs are run in green spaces around Montreal, often within the Saint-Jacques escarpment. Mintz, who teaches some of them, noted that kids have expressed their amazement at discovering the wide range of activities nature has to offer. Ultimately, her work illustrates the invaluable role that green spaces play as sites of education, recreation, and healing.
The psychological and spiritual value found in the outdoors was echoed during my interview with Chris Barrington-Leigh, an associate professor at McGill, jointly appointed to the Department of Equity, Ethics and Policy and the Bieler School of Environment. One branch of his research focuses on the economics of well-being, where he measures people’s subjectively reported life satisfaction to better understand the effects of various economic and social conditions, changes, and policies. I was excited to learn that Barrington-Leigh also loves to spend time in nature, including climbing gnarly routes in British Columbia’s Bugaboos mountains, cross-country skiing, running, and bird watching in Montreal’s green spaces.
Interestingly, Barrington-Leigh reported that the most important predictors of life satisfaction are social, referring to factors like our relationships, sense of identity, and feelings of belonging. He emphasized that these predictors must be defined broadly. For example, “relationships” should extend to include connections beyond humans, like how Nate and I bonded with the raccoons. Similarly, our understanding of both “identity” and “belonging” should include our connections to the land. This more comprehensive definition of what it means to be social informs a better understanding of well-being and life satisfaction.
It seems then that green spaces are ripe with opportunities to develop connections that can support our life satisfaction. And for people like me, who come to the city with an already-established relationship with nature, where else can we go in the city to maintain this connection? It’s abundantly clear that urban nature has great value. Although grassroots activists like Mintz and the team at Sauvons la Falaise! can undoubtedly have a major impact and successfully protect particular green spaces, change needs to occur at the policy level to ensure that these areas’ value is recognized across the board. This could, for example, ensure that residents don’t wake up to find the forests they once bird-watched bulldozed without warning.
I spoke with Kwetiio, who is one of the Kanien’kehá:ka Kahnistensera (Mohawk Mothers), an important voice in the struggle against the New Vic Project. When she looks at the nature that remains in the city today, whether that be the rising expanse of Mount Royal Park or simply a flower growing from a crack in the sidewalk, she wonders if the people around her understand how they came to be on this land. Do they know the rich and long history of the Kanien’kehá:ka in these green spaces, and if so, do they realize that hostile settler colonialism led to the cold urbanism that surrounds us today? To her, the roots of the big trees in Tiohtià:ke tell this history well. Their connections to this land go much deeper than those of two-and-a-half-inch trimmed grass. In Kwetiio’s eyes, the manicured nature we have today is a painful souvenir of what she and the Kanien’kehá:ka Nation had stolen from them.
But Kwetiio also sees urban nature as a beautiful reminder of the connectedness of all nature—of Creation. It reminds her that everything—air, water, earth, life—depends on one another to exist in harmony. Today, most people disrespect this relationship by using the land without recognition of all that it provides. Kwetiio believes that everyone has a responsibility to be grateful for the beauty, nourishment and connections that nature offers.
Looking forward, Kwetiio envisions a world wherein people look deeper into the land, to read the history and lessons written on its roots. She dreams of a more harmonious society, in which we allow green spaces to grow wild. Let us celebrate the beauty of Creation, instead of trying to control it. Instead of mowing down grass to get rid of mosquitoes, Kwetiio suggests we plant corn. She encourages us to garden, and in doing so, learn to lovingly tend to plants like they are our children. Kwetiio knows, and as a professional gardener I agree, that in raising plants, the more you respect them, the more beautiful they become. This is the kind of social knowledge that we stand to gain from engaging in reciprocal relationships with our green spaces. Let us nurture these spaces, and in turn, cultivate a culture of mutual caretaking and stronger communities.
In the end, it’s not just about what nature does for people, it’s also about what we can do for it.
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Lessons from the hunt
Words and photos by Mason Bramadat
Originally published in The Tribune March 19, 2024
It was on my first hunt, six years ago, that a bear charged me. I was pretending to be a moose.
My dad and I were crossing the Secret River, deep in Yukon Territory’s wilderness, in our motorboat. It was the first evening of the hunt, and we wanted to explore the shore opposite our camp. Stepping onto the sandy bank, we saw a fresh set of moose tracks. I followed Dad’s gaze, quietly learning from his 30 years of experience hunting in this habitat. I noticed willow branches with nibbled ends, trees with their bark rubbed off, tufts of wiry fur stuck on twigs, and giant piles of chocolate-covered-almond-looking droppings—all signs that we were in this elusive species’ territory.
Dad motioned for me to give a call, so I cupped my hands to my mouth and emitted a guttural “oo-uua”, mimicking a bull, or male, moose. Silence fell, just for a second—then, the violent cacophony of a large animal crashing toward us through the woods. My mind raced as I loaded my rifle. If it was a bull—identifiable by its antlers—I planned to bring it down with the perfect shot, just like I had rehearsed in the months leading up to the hunt. We’d bring home enough meat to feed our family for over a year.
But out of the woods, barrelling right at us, came a black bear! Thankfully, it stopped fifteen feet away, but my heart jumped to my mouth as I looked for its next move. I breathed a great sigh of relief when it bolted back into the forest. Dad and I grinned at each other. What an epic start to the hunt!
Only one minute later, I was rushing to load a bullet into the chamber again. A bull moose, onshore just ahead of us! I tucked the rifle into the crook of my shoulder and rested my elbow on the side of the boat. Big mistake. I couldn’t get the moose in my sights because the gunwales rocked too much. “Shoot! Shoot Mase, shoot!” urged Dad’s strained voice. But I couldn’t risk a bad shot that might just wound the animal. I wanted my performance to be perfect. I lifted my elbow and held the rifle freehand. By the time I found my crosshairs, the moose had trotted off into the trees, gone. Maybe our only opportunity for success, and I had failed.
I couldn’t fall asleep that night in our tent, tossing and turning in my embarrassment. Dad’s voice ricocheted around my head, urging me to shoot. Eventually, I drifted off to the sound of wolves howling in the distance.
I carried that feeling downriver for the next three days of our trip. Prowling through the golden autumn forest, every falling leaf sounded like hoofsteps. Around each riverbend, clusters of ancient driftwood appeared in the distance, shining like antlers. Trudging through the river’s maze of sloughs, every mountainous pile of fresh droppings brought a new opportunity to redeem myself.
The fourth evening, Dad called a bull to within 10 feet of us. In the three seconds I took to line up a shot, the moose got spooked and ran. A second chance, gone again.
By some miracle, we saw another bull on our way back to camp. It was 300 yards away, quite the distance, and I was trembling. I whispered “no shot”, and Dad dropped it with two perfectly placed rounds. He smiled, we shook hands, and three days of tension melted from my body. When we got to the moose, we nestled our hands into its warm fur and thanked it for its life. Our family is forever indebted to this animal––it helped nourish and build us.
Looking back, I realize how great a learning experience the hunt had been. It is easy to put a lot of pressure on yourself when the stakes feel high. And when doing important work, being diligent is essential. I now see the private lessons it offered, which for years after I had been too self-absorbed to understand. When I missed my shots, the hunt asked me to accept my own inexperience with humility. It told me to be patient with myself and to focus on growth instead of perfection. Most importantly, it gave me gratitude for the land’s precious gifts, black bears included.
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it's the little things :)
A study of seasonal textures
By Mason Bramadat, Photo Editor, The Tribune
Originally published in The Tribune March 16, 2024
Fujifilm XE-2 camera with Fujinon XF 18-55mm F2.4-4 R LM OIS lens and iPhone SE 2
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Montreal students flock to Ottawa to demand Canadian government call for a permanent ceasefire in Gaza
Words by Jasjot Grewal, photos by Mason Bramadat
Originally published in The Tribune November 28, 2023
Content Warning: Mentions of death, violence, genocide, domestic abuse, and rape
On Nov. 25, thousands of people from all across Canada marched in Ottawa to stand with Palestine and demand that the Canadian federal government call for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza. The event was organized by the Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM), the Association of Palestinian Arab Canadians, Labour 4 Palestine, and the International League of Peoples’ Struggle Canada. Groups including Solidarity for Palestinian Human Rights (SPHR) McGill and PYM Montreal mobilized dozens of buses for hundreds of Montrealers to travel to Ottawa. Thousands gathered in the field in front of Parliament Hill at 1 p.m., listening to speeches and chants from various organizers and guest speakers, and then marched around downtown Ottawa beginning at 3:30 p.m.
According to Al Jazeera, following the Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel that killed 1,200 people and resulted in roughly 240 others being taken hostage, Israel has targeted medical infrastructure, destroyed and damaged over 278,000 residential buildings, and cut off access to water and electricity in Gaza. Over 14,854 Palestinians have been killed, of which more than 6,150 are children, as of Nov. 27. On Nov. 22, Israel and Hamas agreed to a four-day pause in fighting and the release of a number of hostages. The temporary truce, which came into effect on Nov. 24 at 7 a.m., also dictates that humanitarian convoys and relief aid be let into Gaza. As of Nov. 27, the deal has been extended by two days, according to Qatar. Israel has released more than 100 imprisoned Palestinian and Hamas has released 58 Israeli hostages as of Nov. 27, according to The Washington Post.
Speakers on Parliament Hill demanded that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau condemn the Israeli government’s actions and call for a permanent end to the war instead of a pause. Previously, Trudeau has attested to Israel’s “right to self-defence.” In an interview with The Tribune, PYM member and media spokesperson Yara Shoufani called for the Canadian government to demand an end to the violence in Gaza and the release of thousands of Palestinian prisoners.
“Gaza has been under blockade for over 17 years, whereby Israel controls Gaza’s access to air, land, and sea, effectively making an open-air prison. We’re here to demand that the siege be lifted and demand an end to Canada’s complicity in Israel’s genocide,” Shoufani said. “Currently, there are [around 10,000] Palestinians who are held hostage in Israeli prisons. Some of them are children, some of them are under administrative detention [….] So, we’re calling for the liberation of all our prisoners and the liberation of Palestine.”
Sophie Arseneault, BA’ 23 and another march attendee, emphasized the need for institutions to also abide by the demands posed to the government in an interview with The Tribune.
“I find that academic institutions such as McGill have a really big responsibility given the platform that they have, but also in terms of the weight that they hold in research and in academic publications to call for a government to again be held responsible in its responsibility to uphold international humanitarian law,” Arseneault said.
In an interview with The Tribune, Alex*, a member of SPHR McGill who attended the march, pointed out the importance of representing the student front in the movement for Palestinian liberation in Ottawa and called out McGill for its Israeli investments. One of McGill’s investments includes $515, 381 into Lockheed Martin—the world’s largest arms producer, which provides the Israeli military with air and ground weapons. McGill additionally invests $500,000 into Airbus—an aerospace corporation that has partnered with Israeli Aerospace Industries to develop surveillance drones used in Gaza.
“The goal of a mass rally like this is to show the strength we have in numbers, and to demonstrate the sort of popular power of the movement,” Alex said. “It’s deeply important that McGill is able to follow in a call for a ceasefire and publicly condemn the genocide in Palestine. But also, as we put pressure on the Canadian government, we also have to recognize that McGill as an institution is complicit in Zionism for its investments in weapons manufacturers and exchange programs to Israel.”
In a message to the McGill community on Nov. 2, Principal and Vice-Chancellor Deep Saini wrote that a university “should remain impartial with respect to political questions” and should focus on upholding institutional values. McGill’s Director of Institutional Relations, Michel Proulx, echoed this sentiment in a written statement to The Tribune, stating that McGill’s scope is limited to what happens at the university.
“Weighing in on geopolitical crises around the world lies beyond a university’s mandate and role. Our academic mission is most faithfully served when institutional views are limited to what happens here on our campuses, so that all students, faculty, and staff feel included as members of our community, regardless of their identities and personal beliefs,” Proulx wrote.
Proulx additionally explained that McGill became a signatory of the United Nations Principles for Responsible Investment (UN PRI) in July 2022, which is a global network for investors who adhere to environmental, social, and governance (ESG) considerations in their investments. Fund managers select investments on behalf of McGill in accordance with UN PRI principles.
“99 [per cent] of McGill’s Investment Portfolio assets are managed by those who follow an ESG Policy or are signatories of the UNPRI. Only 70 [per cent] of assets were managed according to these principles in 2016. When selecting investment management firms, the [Office of Investments] sees ESG integration as critical,” Proulx wrote. “McGill does not invest in individual stocks or companies. McGill selects fund managers based on key criteria, which include risk, rate of return and adherence to ESG principles, among other considerations and remains active in evaluating fund managers’ performance and investment processes.”
At around 3:30 p.m., the crowd dispersed to Wellington Street—the road in front of Parliament Hill—to begin marching east toward Dalhousie Street. Accompanied by drummers, organizers of the event chanted “Free, Free, Palestine,” “So-So-So-Solidarité, avec, avec, avec la Palestine,” and various other refrains into megaphones.
In an interview with The Tribune, Ruby Belson, a Jewish attendee who travelled from Montreal, explained that their attendance was motivated by personally experiencing forms of oppression in the past, alluding to their sign which read “Rape Survivors for Palestine.” Belson emphasized the necessity to separate Judaism from the actions of the Israeli state.
“I’m a survivor of domestic abuse, and I’m a survivor of rape. I see what’s going on in Palestine, I see the oppression and I relate on a minute scale as an individual who has experienced oppression,” Belson said. “I just can’t believe that my people […] are using our faith to commit genocide [….] I don’t want my religion to fall into the pits of Zionism.”
Tracy Teif, a Jewish mother among the protestors, expressed the sorrow that she has felt over Israel’s actions. She echoed the need for distinction between Judaism and Israel in an interview with The Tribune.
“I don’t know how we walk back from what we’ve done. I’m Jewish, and I’m a Jewish mother,” Teif said. “The more we stand up and say no to genocide, the more people will understand that Israel is not Judaism.”
Some supporters rushed to the roofs of nearby public buildings, waving Palestinian flags, lighting flares, and chanting from the rooftops. Upon reaching the intersection of Dalhousie Street and York Street, the march turned left on York, heading toward Sussex Street. Marchers approached the Ottawa sign situated on York, which was adorned with children’s coffins covered in Palestinian flags, kids’ toys, and small bags tied up to illustrate a child’s body.
Marchers then turned toward Sussex, heading back to Parliament Hill. Once again, supporters flooded the field in front of Parliament Hill. Speakers gave their closing remarks, thanking attendees for travelling from across Canada to be present for the event. They encouraged everyone to mobilize strikes on Nov. 29 in schools, unions, and businesses, in support of Palestine. The event officially ended at around 5:15 p.m., at which point a few hundred people remained gathered in front of the Office of the Prime Minister and Privy Council.
*Alex’s name has been changed to preserve their confidentiality.
Bus tickets for The Tribune to travel to Ottawa were discounted by PYM. This did not impact the writing or editing of the piece.
This piece was updated at 11 p.m. on Nov. 28 to include an additional comment from McGill.
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