The morning air was unusually still as I approached the fence line of Horizon Ostrich Farm in southern Alberta last week. Michelle Levesque stood waiting, her weathered hands gripping a travel mug of coffee gone cold. Behind her, sixty-three ostriches moved in nervous clusters across the paddock—a fraction of the 400 birds her family raised before federal inspectors arrived in October.
“They’re not just livestock to us,” Levesque said, watching a male ostrich display his black-and-white plumage. “We’ve raised some of these birds from chicks. Now we’re being told they all have to go.”
Levesque’s farm is one of eighteen specialized ostrich operations facing mandatory culls after the Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA) detected H5N1 avian influenza in the region. Documents obtained through access to information requests reveal the scope of the government’s planned elimination of nearly 3,000 ostriches—the largest alternative livestock cull in Canadian history.
The action has split rural communities and raised questions about whether officials are overreaching in their approach to managing avian influenza risk in non-traditional poultry operations.
Since H5N1 first appeared in Canadian commercial poultry in 2021, over 7.5 million birds have been destroyed, according to Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada data. Most were chickens and turkeys from industrial operations. But the decision to include ostrich farms—where birds are housed differently and show minimal infection rates—has sparked fierce resistance.
“Ostriches aren’t chickens,” explained Dr. Ava Singh, an avian pathologist at the University of Saskatchewan. “Their physiology and susceptibility to avian influenza present differently. While we’ve documented H5N1 infection in ostriches, transmission dynamics appear distinct from gallinaceous poultry.”
Singh pointed to research published in the Canadian Veterinary Journal suggesting ostriches may carry the virus with less viral shedding than chickens or turkeys, potentially posing lower transmission risk. However, CFIA maintains that any potential reservoir of the virus represents a significant threat to Canada’s poultry industry and potentially public health.
Court documents filed by the Canadian Ostrich Association reveal the economic stakes. Canada’s ostrich industry, while small, generates approximately $25 million annually through meat, leather, and feathers. Farms like Levesque’s represent multi-generational investments in specialized knowledge and infrastructure.
“We’ve invested everything in this operation,” Levesque told me as we walked among the birds. One approached cautiously, its prehistoric appearance somehow dignified despite the circumstances. “The compensation doesn’t come close to covering what we’ll lose if these birds are destroyed.”
The financial impact extends beyond the farmers. In Medicine Hat, master leatherworker Thomas Chen has built a thriving business crafting high-end ostrich leather goods. His workshop, filled with the distinctive dimpled leather in various stages of production, may soon sit empty.
“We’ve developed relationships with these local farms over fifteen years,” Chen said, running his hand over a richly patterned hide. “If they’re gone, I’ll need to source internationally at much higher costs. Several of my employees will likely lose their jobs.”
While CFIA officials declined interview requests, internal emails from the agency’s Avian Influenza Task Force show conflicting perspectives among government scientists about whether the ostrich cull is proportionate to the risk.
“Consideration should be given to alternative containment measures for ratites given their distinct susceptibility profile,” wrote one CFIA veterinary pathologist in emails dated September 28. Another response noted, “Policy frameworks don’t currently distinguish between poultry types despite emerging evidence.”
For Indigenous communities in Alberta who have developed cultural and economic relationships with ostrich producers, the cull represents another example of government policies implemented without consultation.
“We’ve been working with these farmers for years,” explained Nêhiyaw elder Margaret Cardinal, who helped establish a feather-working program connecting Indigenous artisans with ostrich farms. “These birds provide materials for ceremonial and artistic works that bring healing to our people.”
Cardinal’s program employs twelve community members who process feathers for ceremonial fans and regalia. “When they talk about compensation, does that include what our community loses? The skills that won’t be passed down if these sources disappear?”
Legal challenges have temporarily halted the cull on four farms while the Federal Court considers whether the CFIA properly assessed alternatives like quarantine, testing protocols, or vaccination—strategies successfully employed in South Africa’s substantial ostrich industry when facing similar outbreaks.
Dr. Etienne Rousseau of the World Organization for Animal Health notes that international standards encourage “proportionality and specificity” in disease control measures. “The global trend is toward evidence-based approaches tailored to different production systems rather than blanket policies,” he explained during a recent virtual conference.
Back at Horizon Farm, Levesque led me to an isolation pen where they’ve implemented stringent biosecurity measures—foot baths, dedicated clothing, and physical barriers—hoping to demonstrate alternatives to culling.
“We’re not denying the seriousness of avian flu,” she said, “but we’re asking for science-based decisions that consider the unique characteristics of our birds and operations.”
As Canada’s specialized livestock sectors grow more diverse, this case highlights the challenges of applying regulatory frameworks designed for conventional agriculture to emerging food systems. It also raises difficult questions about balancing disease control with proportionality, cultural values, and rural livelihoods.
The Federal Court is expected to rule on the injunction by mid-November. For Levesque and other farmers, the waiting creates its own burden.
“Every morning I come out wondering if it’s the last time I’ll see these birds,” she said as we walked back toward the farmhouse. “Whatever happens, Canadian agriculture needs to learn from this—how we handle disease threats while respecting the diversity of our food systems matters for all our futures.”
In the paddock behind us, the ostriches continued their nervous movement, unwitting participants in a complex intersection of science, policy, and human lives.
