My Journey as a Veterinarian Without Borders in Canada’s Far North
Bringing compassionate, community-led veterinary care to Canada’s most remote regions, and finding purpose along the way.
Words by Dr. Michelle Tuma, Companion Animal Veterinary Specialist with Veterinarians Without Borders North America
Growing up in a subarctic region of Canada—Yellowknife, Northwest Territories (NWT)—I was a typical little girl who loved animals and dreamed of becoming a veterinarian one day. What I didn’t realize back then was just how unusual our access to veterinary care was compared to the rest of Canada. At that time, Yellowknife—the capital city and home to nearly half the population of the territory—had only one veterinary clinic with one veterinarian. It was also the only veterinary clinic in the entire NWT, a territory of around 45,000 people.
The shortage of veterinary professionals in Canada’s Far North is not new—and it remains a challenge today, much like it does across North America. For several years, Yellowknife was served by two brick-and-mortar veterinary clinics, each staffed by a single veterinarian, along with my house call practicewhich I launched in 2020 during the height of the pandemic. However, one of the clinics unexpectedly closed this past summer, leaving the city once again with only one physical clinic—still run by a single, hardworking, and deeply dedicated veterinarian—alongside my mobile practice. So now, 30 years after that 8-year-old girl dreamed of this life, there are only two veterinarians in town—including me.
Two veterinarians to provide care for a small city’s pet loving population is not enough, but at least we actually do have a couple vets in town. That is not the case for the rest of the NWT. There are 32 additional communities—some connected by road, others accessible only by plane—and not a single permanent veterinarian in any of them.
Our neighboring territory, Nunavut (NU), faces a similar challenge: 25 fly-in-only communities and zero local veterinarians for a population of around 40,000 people. These regions face significant logistical, geographic, and systemic barriers that limit access to essential services, including animal care. For communities where animals play vital roles in companionship, hunting, and protection, this lack of access to care has wide-ranging impacts for both animal welfare and human health.
This is where organizations like Veterinarians Without Borders North America (VWB) come in. VWB is a global organization that applies One Health principles to help communities strengthen animal, human, and environmental health. I am now the Companion Animal Veterinary Specialist with VWB, but my journey with this amazing organization began in 2018, and my passion for equitable access to veterinary care was sparked many years before then.
My childhood dream of becoming a veterinarian became a reality when I graduated from the Western College of Veterinary Medicine (WCVM) in 2014 and returned home to Yellowknife. Coming back home to work in private practice felt like a natural step—it felt good to serve the people and pets who shaped who I was.
But as I immersed myself in clinic life, I couldn’t ignore the bigger picture: large distances between communities, significant economic and logistical barriers, and a near-complete absence of consistent care.
These challenges couldn’t be solved inside the walls of a clinic. So I began collaborating with out-of-territory mobile veterinary teams and outreach organizations. As a born-and-raised Northerner, I was uniquely positioned to bridge gaps between visiting veterinarians and local communities. I was familiar with the people, the realities, and the challenges on the ground.
Between 2015 and 2019, I worked with various groups on temporary veterinary clinics in remote Indigenous communities across Northwest Territories and Nunavut. It was during this time that I found a mentor whose deep understanding of Indigenous-led animal health initiatives shaped how I approached this work.
I learned that effective care in the North means more than just showing up with supplies—it means listening to hear, building relationships, and always prioritizing community direction and priorities over outside assumptions.
I learned that effective care in the North means more than just showing up with supplies—it means listening to hear, building relationships, and always prioritizing community direction and priorities over outside assumptions.
In 2018, I shared these insights with the board and committees of VWB. That conversation turned into action: I was asked to help design and lead a Northern pilot program that could deliver sustainable veterinary outreach in the North. I led the program from 2019 to 2021, and in 2022, we secured long-term funding, transforming it into an operational and growing initiative.
Our work within the VWB Northern Program is about working with remote, Indigenous communities—not just in them—and centers on purpose-driven practice: veterinary care rooted in equity, sustainability, and community partnership.
We are driven by a One Health, community-first approach and believe that access to veterinary services shouldn’t depend on geography or income, and should be based on the community’s identified needs and priorities. For the North, solutions that are built to last must be community-led, community-driven and culturally respectful.
We focus on local capacity strengthening, youth and adult engagement and building trust through consistency. Our work supports both animal and human well-being, recognizing how closely the two are connected in Indigenous culture.
This philosophy comes to life in my day-to-day work. A typical day for me looks different from traditional clinical practice. It begins months earlier, collaborating with community leaders to identify priorities and design an approach that fits their needs. Once plans are in place, I help organize volunteers, advertise upcoming clinics, and hire local residents to support administrative and outreach efforts.
When it’s time to travel, I pack the equipment—about 750lbs worth—into totes and fly into communities where we set up temporary clinics in spaces like fire halls or recreation centres. Over the next few days, our team provides everything from wellness exams to spay and neuter surgeries, and everything in between, often working long hours in makeshift settings.
There are always challenges—equipment that doesn’t arrive, supplies that fail, or the constant need to improvise with limited resources—but those moments also reveal the creativity, collaboration, and resilience that define this work.
By the end of each clinic, it’s not just about the number of animals helped; it’s about the relationships built, the skills shared, and the trust strengthened between veterinary teams and the communities we serve.
The work isn’t always easy. It’s logistically complex, emotionally charged and, often, under resourced. But it’s also incredibly fulfilling. Every flight into a fly-in community, every conversation with a local youth curious about becoming a vet, every animal helped—it all reminds me why I became a veterinarian in the first place.
In a profession where burnout is real and compassion fatigue runs high, this kind of purpose-driven work can be a powerful antidote. It’s a reminder that veterinary medicine isn’t just about procedures and protocols—it’s about integrity, equity, and respect.
The Far North of Canada may seem remote, but the challenges we face are shared across underserved and rural regions around the world—including in parts of the U.S. Our work in the North—led by community voices and driven by respect—offers a model for what’s possible when we let purpose lead our practice.
To my American colleagues who may just be learning about this work: I invite you to consider the broader definition of what it means to be a veterinarian. Consider how purpose-driven veterinary medicine could look in your own practice and communities.
Whether you are visiting rural counties, tribal lands or urban neighborhoods with limited access to veterinary care—the challenges are similar and your impact could be profound. There’s a growing opportunity to shift our profession from transactional to relational and equity-driven. You don’t have to move North to find purpose—you can build it wherever you are by showing up, listening deeply, and staying curious.
For me, this work is where my skills meet my values. It’s where I’ve found fulfillment in a profession that can, at times, lose sight of its heart. And I want others to know, this path is possible. There is space for you in this kind of work. It’s not always easy, and it’s never fast. But it is meaningful. And more than that, it’s necessary.
The journey toward fully supported, equitable access to veterinary care in Canada’s North and beyond is far from complete, but it’s deeply worthwhile. And I’m honored to play a small part in the solution—right here at home.
Dr. Michelle Tuma was born and raised in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada. She graduated from the Western College of Veterinary Medicine (Saskatchewan, Canada) in 2014 and moved back to her hometown to practice. Since 2015, in addition to working in private practice, Dr. Tuma has partnered with multiple northern animal welfare organizations to increase equitable access to veterinary care in remote First Nations and Inuit communities across Canada’s Arctic. She has been working with Veterinarians Without Borders North America/Vétérinaires Sans Frontières Amérique du Nord to expand their northern reach since 2019, and also owns and operates a house call practice in Yellowknife.