AAMJIWNAANG FIRST NATION, Ont. -- The people of the Aamjiwnaang First Nation are painfully aware they make up a startling statistic that has raised eyebrows around the world, but the bigger concern for residents are the chemicals they fear are overwhelming their community and killing off their legacy.
In Aamjiwnaang, records show two girls are being born for every boy -- a scientific anomaly that has stunned researchers and that residents admit is clearly not normal.
Visitors to this reserve just outside the southwestern Ontario border community of Sarnia, Ont., are struck by the sight of dozens of massive industrial facilities spewing out smoke and their close proximity to the First Nations community of about 850.
Residents live in an area known as chemical valley -- Canada's largest cluster of chemical, allied manufacturing and research and development facilities -- and co-exist with smoke stacks and nauseating smells that carry with the wind.
The girl-boy ratio anomaly has been the subject of international study, most recently in an article published in Environmental Health Perspectives this month based on the work of researchers from the U.S. and Japan.
"To our knowledge, this is a more significantly reduced sex ratio and greater rate of change than has been reported previously anywhere," the study reads.
While many residents are reluctant to talk openly about the lack of boys being born and the worldwide attention that's been focused on them it's something that just about everyone thinks about, said 67-year-old Wilson Plain, a father of four and grandfather of five.
"We got blue skies and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with where I'm sitting. But when I zero in on (the skewed birthrate and the nearby chemical plants) I ask myself: How long is my life going to last? Will I be hit with cancer?"
The phenomenon of an increasingly female reserve snuck up on everyone a few years ago. They were surprised to learn there were enough girls in the community to field three baseball teams while there would be only one boys' squad.
Lockridge thought of her own family -- her two sisters have nine kids between them, of which there's only one boy -- and started to get worried about what was happening in the community and the possible impacts of the surrounding industrial plants.
"Sometimes I wonder why we're still alive," she said. "We always said, 'Ew, the air stinks,' but we never thought about what it could be doing to our health. We just thought somebody was watching out for us."
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