Finland's Husky Safaris: A Hidden Animal Welfare Crisis

While travellers glide through the snow-covered landscape, dozens of dogs pull heavy sleds, often for hours at a time, in freezing cold and sometimes without adequate breaks.

From the outside, they appear strong, well-groomed, and friendly — yet many of them live under conditions far removed from the romantic image conveyed by brochures. In numerous operations, the investigation found, the kennels are too small, poorly insulated, or simply inadequate. Some animals spend the nights outdoors, in temperatures well below freezing, without sufficient shelter. Dogs with particularly thin coats or those that are ill suffer from the cold; some are afflicted by joint problems, tooth decay, or untreated injuries.

Some of the husky farms are not officially registered at all. This allows operators to evade state oversight, and no one knows exactly how many dogs are actually employed in the industry. Estimates speak of several thousand animals. This lack of transparency opens the door to further abuses: illegal breeding, puppy trading without health checks, inadequate feeding. In some cases, dogs are even reported to have been imported from other European countries without valid vaccination records. The authorities are aware of the problems, but lack the staff, funding, and clear legal instruments to address them. Sled dogs are classified neither unambiguously as pets nor as working animals, and consequently fall into a legal grey zone.

Economic pressure is compounding the situation. Winter tourism in Lapland is growing rapidly, and husky tours are a bestselling product. The more tourists arrive, the more dogs are needed, and the more intense the competition among providers. Many tour operators themselves know little about the origins or living conditions of the animals they advertise. Transparency? Nowhere to be found. The industry profits from an image of naturalness, yet the reality is an industrial structure in which dogs are reduced to units of labour.

For animal welfare organisations, the conclusion is clear: this development is not merely a moral problem, but a systemic one. They demand that working dogs — such as those pulling tourists or performing in leisure parks — finally be brought under binding European protection regulations. Authorities should be required to inspect operations regularly, penalise violations, and shut down kennels that fail to meet minimum standards. Tour operators should be obliged to work exclusively with certified providers who demonstrably ensure the welfare of their animals.

Travellers themselves also bear responsibility. Anyone booking an adventure in the far north should look beyond the picture-postcard idyll. Reputable providers communicate openly about housing, feeding, and animal care; they offer genuine insight into their kennels and maintain transparent partnerships with veterinarians. Tourists who deliberately choose such providers make a statement against the silence — and against the commercialisation of animal labour.

What begins as a winter fairy tale can easily become an ethical imposition if we close our eyes. The dogs that toil for these experiences deserve more than mere admiration: they deserve protection, care and respect. The Eurogroup for Animals report makes it strikingly clear: Finland's snowy landscapes harbour not only beauty, but also responsibility. For the magic of the North to remain more than a product of exploitation, clear laws, courageous decisions and an awareness are needed that animal welfare must not be a side issue, but the benchmark for every form of tourism that calls itself “close to nature.”