Something astonishing happened on Canada’s west coast in late August and early September, something that took my breath away. The sockeye salmon returned to the Fraser River in such vast numbers that fishery scientists could scarcely believe what was happening. In July, they predicted a run of 11.4 million salmon. Four weeks later, when the sockeye began massing at the mouth of the Fraser, they bumped up the estimate to 25 million.
Then, on September 1st, as the fish began their arduous journey upriver, researchers came up with a new figure. As many as 34 million fish, they calculated, had entered the river–the largest Fraser River run since 1913. People flocked to the docks, snapping up fish at a $1 a pound. Barbeques sizzled, and all Vancouver seemed to be caught up in a kind of salmon euphoria, a caloric contentment that looked to be contagious.
Lurking just beneath the festive surface, however, was a deep puzzlement. Recent years have seen a catastrophic decline in the Fraser River sockeye stocks, most likely due to a lethal combination of overfishing, habitat loss, climate change and diseases spread by fish farms. Last year, fewer than 2 million sockeye turned up–less than 2 percent of the river’s estimated peak levels–prompting the Canadian government to launch an official public inquiry into what had gone so terribly wrong.
Some people now think that we have nothing further to worry about: all the alarm, they say, was bogus. The Fraser River sockeye are doing just fine.
But I don’t think we can afford to be so cavalier. Taken together, the five species of wild Pacific salmon feed more than 137 coastal animals, from grizzly bears and wolves to eagles and marbled murrelets. And the nitrogen-rich scraps from these salmon feasts fertilize the stately cedars and Douglas firs in Pacific rainforests. Indeed some ecologists call these woods the salmon forest.
Over the past few weeks, nature has given us a something of a reprieve with the Fraser River sockeye run. Maybe there’s still time to get serious about protecting it.
Terrific video and write-up, Heather!
As a born and raised BC boy, I invoke my right to rant on this topic, and I will apologize in advance for taking up so much space.
When the Canadian media proclaimed we were experiencing the largest sockeye salmon return in 100 years, I was as amazed as everyone else, but probably for different reasons.
The early settlers of British Columbia once boasted that the salmon were so plentiful in the “mighty Fraser River” that they could almost walk across the water on the backs of the fish. I’m guessing this year’s run of 34 million sockeye pales in comparison to the runs of a century ago, estimated in excess of 100 million annually for this tastiest of species alone.
This “reasonably good year” does not spell the end of the ongoing troubles. For evidence, just look at the recent ramblings from the antagonists in this story – commercial fishers, First Nations, sports fishers, fish farm operators, foreign fleets, fish processors, bureaucrats, scientists, et al.
My biggest worries are over the haphazard approach to urban planning that results in the loss of marshland, spawning grounds, creeks and other sensitive habitat; and our collective unwillingness to curtail and/or reverse the damage caused by a century of industrial and pharmaceutical pollutants in the water.
Yes, we try, but …
Storm sewers and roadside ditches continue to carry untreated petrochemicals and other pollutants directly into hundreds of thousands of B.C. creeks, rivers, lakes and other waterways. These hydrocarbons are always at their highest concentrations in the first few rainfalls after a dry spell, particularly at the end of summer, which is exactly when the fish leave the ocean to return to their spawning grounds. That’s not to mention the dozens of rule-breaking idiots who use the cover of darkness to dispose of their toxic waste in fish-bearing waterways.
And pardon me for bringing this up in ‘polite company’, but modern human sewage contains a toxic soup of pharmaceuticals – including hormones, pain killers and psychoactive substances, both legal and illegal. Few people knows what impact this melange of medications has on marine life, and even few are doing anything about it. Many BC communities still pump raw sewage into the open environment.
Further, the impact of dozens of new run-of-river hydroelectric facilities in B.C. will not be known for years.
However, dams, irrigation systems and other water diversion projects operate by virtue of lowering the natural water flow, and that plus the resulting increase in water temperature is known to be detrimental or ‘deleterious’ to salmon.
And finally, farmed fish are fed a steady diet of antibiotics and industrial foodstuffs, and might more accurately be labelled as ‘pharm’ fish. Regardless, their habitat should be land-based with proper run-off controls, they need to labeled as ‘farm fish’ when sold, and consumers should be able to find out what they’ve been fed and specifically what medications they’ve been given.
Dan: I found myself agreeing with every point you raise on this subject. The destruction of the west coast salmon runs in North America has been really hard to watch. I live just a block from a small salmon stream and my husband and I walk along it every morning as we take our lab out for a walk. During the fall, our prime delight is in spotting the returning salmon in the stream. But this spring, somebody dumped a toxic chemical into the stream, killing all the young salmon. We were heartbroken and hope that our stream will also be given another chance–as the Fraser River has– with returning Coho.
It’s true that you learn something new every day! Salmon is my favorite fish, but I didn’t realize that the left-over pieces from other animals dinner were so nutrient filled that it helped the forest! Very interesting! Thank you for sharing.
Thanks, Meredith. All this research made me realize just how intricately connected all the various parts of these forests are.
Why is called a “forest”? A forest is more of a diversity of living things, right? But, why salmon forest? Are these the salmon fish that go back up to the river when they are old?
People sometimes call it a salmon forest because the dead salmon contribute so many nutrients to the forest floor. And yes, these are the mature salmon who have spent a year or more in the ocean before returning to their birth-river or stream.