Manitoba’s Burning

When fire season comes in May, it’s not just the forest that’s breaking

It could be happening anywhere. And maybe that’s why so many people aren’t paying attention.

A large swathe of Rural Canada is burning. Entire towns emptied, forests scorched, families displaced. And not just any families—often the ones too easy for the rest of the country to overlook: First Nations communities, remote workers, seniors in under-resourced towns. The people who bear the brunt of disaster long after the news cycle has moved on.

What’s happening in Manitoba should not be normal. But it’s becoming so.

This week, as smoke from northern Manitoba drifted across the Great Lakes and dimmed skies in Michigan, something that should have sounded like a warning came across more like a shrug. Another fire. Another evac order. Another emergency. We brace for them now like weather.

But this one deserves your full attention.

By yesterday, May 31, more than 17,000 people had been evacuated from northern and central Manitoba. Entire towns—Flin Flon, Creighton, Cranberry Portage, Lynn Lake, and First Nations communities like Mathias Colomb Cree Nation and Pimicikamak—were cleared out as fires encroached. Flin Flon, a city of 5,000, is nearly emptied. Power failed. Roads closed. The military has stepped in. The Canadian Interagency Forest Fire Centre has raised the national preparedness level to Level 5—its highest possible rating—indicating that national firefighting resources are fully committed and interagency coordination is underway. More than 125 U.S. firefighters have also been deployed to assist.

That’s in May. Before the fire season even starts in earnest.

The wildfires have already burned over 200,000 hectares in Manitoba alone—triple the annual average. This is no longer a fluke. This is a signal.

The Cause Isn’t a Mystery

Meteorologists and climate scientists are aligned on what’s fueling these fires: an Omega block weather pattern and an early, brutal heatwave. The jet stream warped into a stagnant loop—like the Greek letter Ω—parking high pressure and heat over the Prairies for days. No rain. No wind. Just dry heat, searing peat, and windborne flame.

We’ve seen what Omega blocks can do. In 2021, one stalled over British Columbia, trapping extreme heat that broke national temperature records and incinerated the town of Lytton in a matter of hours. In 2003, a similar block contributed to a heatwave across Europe that killed more than 70,000 people. These are not benign patterns—they are amplifiers of disaster.

Farmers and foresters know the frustration and futility of stalled systems like this. These patterns aren't unprecedented, but their frequency and severity are clearly rising. Without modern agriculture, soil conservation, forecasting, and firefighting interventions, we might already have seen disasters on the scale of the Dust Bowl—or worse. The question now is how long we can hold the line, and how bad it gets when we can’t.

It’s not just hot. It’s record hot. Temperatures have been 12–13°C above normal in parts of Manitoba. And it’s no coincidence. Climate Central reports this heatwave was made five times more likely by climate change. The science is mounting: as the Arctic warms faster than the equator, the jet stream weakens and buckles, creating more of these stuck systems—Omega blocks—that deliver persistent extremes.

Not every wildfire is caused by climate change. But when wildfires ignite in May, in record-breaking heat, and are fueled by a stalled jet stream and unrelenting high pressure—then yes, climate change is the accelerant. Weather systems stall. Fires start. And stay. The pattern is undeniable.

What Officials Are Saying

Prime Minister Mark Carney convened the federal Incident Response Group as the fires escalated, coordinating national resources to support Manitoba’s evacuation and emergency response. The Canadian Armed Forces were dispatched to assist with airlifts from remote communities, and Carney has remained in direct contact with Premier Wab Kinew throughout the crisis.

“The scale and complexity of these air evacuations cannot be overstated—and neither can the unwavering dedication of the teams executing them.” ~ Prime Minister Mark Carney

In addition to military support, the federal government has pledged ongoing logistical assistance and emergency funding. The response acknowledges the scale of suffering on the ground—and the reality that, increasingly, the burden of climate-linked disaster is falling on those least equipped to shoulder it.

A few days ago Premier Kinew declared a state of emergency, calling it “the largest evacuation effort in the history of the province.”

"The military is being called for help here because of the sheer scale of the 17,000 folks that we move relatively quickly." ~Wab Kinew

The Canadian Armed Forces have been deployed. Emergency flights are evacuating isolated northern communities. But First Nations leaders are sounding the alarm too: they say evacuees—especially those relocated to Winnipeg—are finding inadequate shelter and support. Hotels are full. Families are stranded. The need is urgent.

Who’s Affected

This is not a drill. This isn’t theoretical. It’s happening now, to:

• Urban residents of Flin Flon and Creighton

• Hundreds in Cranberry Portage and Lynn Lake (one time home to For Better or For Worse’s, Lynn Patterson)

• Entire First Nations communities like Pukatawagan and Cross Lake, flown out by military aircraft

• Seniors. Kids. Workers. Everyone who calls these places home

Many are First Nations families whose housing and infrastructure were already precarious before the smoke rolled in. They are not just escaping fires. They’re navigating a system that often leaves them behind.

What You Can Do

If you’re watching this from a safe distance, here are ways to help:

1. Donate

   • Canadian Red Cross: Direct wildfire relief

   • Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs: Indigenous-led support

   • United Way Winnipeg: Emergency services & housing

2. If You Live in Manitoba

   • Offer temporary housing via local agencies

   • Check with shelters and community centers for needed supplies: food, clothing, toiletries, bedding, baby gear

3. Amplify Their Voices

   • Share verified updates

   • Listen to the stories and calls for assistance of evacuees and community leaders

   • Challenge the narratives that treat this as inevitable or seasonal

4. Push for Action

   • Contact your MP or MLA/MPP. Ask what long-term prevention and climate adaptation plans are being funded. Let them know that you believe it’s a priority.

   • Support climate resilience initiatives—especially those led by Indigenous communities who know their land best.

This Is the New Season

It’s not “fire season” anymore. It’s a new season entirely. One that’s starting earlier, burning hotter, and leaving more people in the path. This isn’t about returning to normal. It’s about recognizing that normal is gone—and that silence, apathy, or denial won’t stop what’s coming next.

We have to show up. With truth. With resources. With action.

Because fires like this, so early in the year, are a sign of things to come. And no one should have to flee their home, any time of the year. Especially not in communities that have already been pushed to the margins—communities that too often burn first, wait longest, and rebuild last. If we can't center them now, in crisis, then when?