Inviting Salmon Back to a Wild River

Salmon are in decline, but the scenic Gualala River in California gets a plan to start salmon restoration.

Jun 06, 2021

sockeye salmon — *Sockeye salmon, Photo by Feng Yu on Shutterstock*

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If you missed the last issue, here it is: The Evolving Rights of Wild Animals

We speak for the river
whose voice echoes in silvery fish
slipping through green waters,
tasting their way to a once-born home.

IN JULY, 2006, I WAS VISITING KETCHIKAN, a town in Alaska's scenic Inside Passage. The day was gray, and it was drizzling lightly, that fine rain that's more like a liquid mist than rainfall. As I walked through town, I came to a stone bridge that arched over a small river. Pausing on the bridge to look down, I saw what looked like red-orange jewels in the dark water— sockeye salmon, about 18-24 inches long. They were swimming against the current, pushing their way upriver to the place where generations of salmon relatives before them had been born.

That memory of long, red sockeye thrusting through a cold river in misty rain stayed with me. Maybe it was because we were both engulfed in a watery world. Perhaps it was witnessing the endurance and tenacity needed for salmon to make their long journey back to where they were born— to spawn and then die. Maybe it was knowing those strong fish can leap 6-10 feet at a time to scale waterfalls. Or perhaps it was the beauty of those fiery-colored fish, who get their hue from the tiny krill and zooplankton they eat out at sea.

A journey with a thousand perils

Salmon have an almost mythological place in the history and lore of the Pacific Northwest. Their journey can take them a thousand miles or more from the river to the sea and back. Along the way, they may experience as many perils as the mythical Greek hero Odysseus did in his years-long quest to return home. Salmon face dangers from hungry predators, rivers blocked by dams and illegal gill netting, adjustment to salt and freshwater environments, exhausting long-distance travel, and now climate disruption.

Fifteen years after my sockeye encounter, I'm again focused on salmonid fish as I volunteer with a local land trust with goals to bring back salmon to the Gualala River in California. This 40-mile long river meanders through redwood forests and defines the western border portion of Sonoma and Mendocino Counties. It has historically held coho salmon, also known as “silvers,” that average about 28 inches long.

I say "historically" because some scientists say salmon are now "extirpated" from the Gualala River. Extirpated is a clinical word that's as cool as the chilling rain of the Pacific Northwest. It means "rooted out or destroyed from a particular area." It's a word on the road to extinction.

Wild salmon are in decline across the Pacific Northwest. So how did we get here, and how can we turn it around? This article explores ways to support this fish that holds such a deep bond to its native river, and why we should.

A river is a current of energy

Most life in a river flows downstream: insects, fish, leaves, and plants, pulling the nutrients downstream with it.

Salmon and other salmonid fish like steelhead swim upstream, so they are known as anadromous fish. "Anadromous" comes from two Greek words— ana=up and dromos=running. Salmon are "up running" fish, so they reverse that flow to bring needed nutrients to the mid-upper reaches of a stream or river where they spawn.

How vital is this nutrient energy to a river? Nutrients provide the raw materials that life needs. Salmon put on most of their weight out at sea, then swim back to the rivers. Biologists have discovered that where salmon live, other species flourish. One hundred thirty-seven species (137) have been documented as dependent on salmon throughout the Pacific Northwest: 41 mammals such as orcas, bears, and river otters, 89 birds such as bald eagles, Caspian terns, and grebes, and even a handful of reptiles.

Five main species of salmon live in North American waters: chinook, coho, chum, sockeye, and pink. My local rivers, the Gualala and Garcia River in Mendocino County, have historically hosted coho and chinook.

The fish nurture the trees

When salmon return to the streams of their birth to spawn and then die, their remains are eaten by animals or dragged into the nearby forests. In the circle of life, the nutrients from those salmon enrich more than just the birds and animals. They nurture the soil, fungi, plants, and trees as well. Where there are salmon streams, healthier forests grow.

“It's no accident that when you look at a map of Pacific Northwest conifer forest coverage and salmon spawning streams, they overlap.”
Keith Parker, Senior Fisheries Biologist, California Yurok Tribe, from “Revitalizing a River” by Juliet Grable in Save the Redwoods League magazine

You could say that salmon are fish that hold an ecosystem together-- a keystone species.

Born in a river, but living almost two years or more of their life out in the ocean, salmon shift energy and nutrients from the river to the sea and back again to land-based birds, animals, trees, and people who consume them. In science-speak, salmon are an "ecological process vector" between the ocean, estuaries, and freshwater environments.

Totem salmon

Pacific Northwest indigenous groups have recognized salmon's importance to people and the entire food chain for millennia. Respect for the salmon engenders a strong bond between salmon and people. Some Washington State tribes still refer to themselves as Wy-Kan-Ush-Pum “Salmon People,” and salmon are honored as a totem animal across the Pacific Northwest. The fish has attributes of determination, adaptability, fertility, strength, and renewal.

Salmon was a crucial "gift of food" and a part of the community's spiritual and cultural identity.

“The river is like the blood that flows through our veins. We're river people; we're fish people. The river feeds a lot more than physical bodies. It feeds our spirits.”
Keith Parker, Senior Fisheries Biologist, California Yurok Tribe, from “Revitalizing a River,” by Juliet Grable, in Save the Redwoods League magazine.

Scientists have now officially endorsed indigenous river ecology practices. This indigenous care involved using fishing weirs or wheels to catch and monitor fish populations, building habitat ponds for juvenile fish, and keeping the rivers clean. It also involved careful consideration of when to harvest with the goal of sustainability. So, for example, the first run of salmon might not be fished, in deference to keeping the population strong.

It's no secret that when the indigenous people were forcibly evicted from their lands over a hundred years ago, most careful river cultivation stopped, and the damage began.

Locally, the Gualala River is now listed by the EPA as “impaired,” and salmon haven’t been seen here for years, although the salmonid steelhead fish still have a small presence.

The reasons for coho disappearance in the Gualala River

Salmon likely haven't been plentiful in the Gualala for many decades. Why?

Poor land-use practices such as logging near the riverbanks reduced the shade, created hotter spots, and raised water temperature. Salmon prefer cold water between 40-50 degrees F.
Erosion, again from practices such as logging or road building near the river, caused increased sedimentation and large gravel banks. There is a surprising map part way down this page of recent timber harvest plans (THPs). It shows the Gualala River flanked by about 350 acres of logging along half of its main river channel.
Drawing too much water out of the Gualala watershed for human use reduced the water levels and flow.
Overfishing may have been a culprit too, as pioneer/colonial settlers arriving in the region had no notion of sustainability practices for over 100 years. Today, salmonid fishing in the Gualala River is limited to catch and release.

Coho salmon — *Coho jumping upstream, Photo by Brandon on Unsplash*

How do we support an impaired river for salmon recovery?

1. As with any problem, first stop the destructive practices. On the Gualala, this includes the damaging practice of logging trees near the Gualala River, and siphoning out too much water from the watershed for human use.

2. Build a coalition of local and regional groups who care about preserving the river for the human and non-human species.

That's starting to happen. Here are some of the groups involved.

Redwood Coast Land Conservancy (RCLC) is a local land trust with a coastal conservation mission. With federal and state grants and the support of local residents, RCLC recently purchased the 113-acre Gualala River estuary and surrounding lands known as Mill Bend, which includes about a mile of the river near its outlet into the sea. RCLC has also invited local Pomo Nation people to get involved.
Friends of Gualala River (FoGR) has partnered with the Center for Biological Diversity (CBD) on an Endangered Species Act lawsuit to protect a handful of threatened or endangered species living in or around the Gualala River, including coho salmon. Here's their Salmonid and Watershed Restoration article.
National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) has offered to help RCLC with restoration efforts.
Gualala River Watershed Council has done river work on salmon recovery.

3. Combine 21st-century science with proven historical practices to help nature restore the river ecosystems.

A partnership of experience and innovation is working in other regions: the Sacramento Delta, Garcia River, Mattole River, Klamath River, and further north.

Jacob Katz is a self-described "born with gills" senior scientist working with California Trout in the Sacramento Delta. I attended his recent FoGR Zoom call on “Recovery and Resiliency in California salmonids.” He described experiments he had done in the Delta area to see which river habitats grew the largest fish, including salmon.

Katz reminds us that helping restore fish populations requires people to think like a fish. Where are the places to hide from predators? Where are the suitable spawning beds? Where are the food sources?

The Delta is a human-engineered place where rivers have been channeled into steep banks with levees to prevent flooding. In the areas where the rivers were allowed to flood over into nearby rice fields or inlets, the young fish followed and thrived in the muddy shallows, avoiding larger predators, finding more biological material for food, and growing at least 50% larger. Fish instinctively know where to go when given choices. What we can do is give them better options and honor their native intelligence.

Creating a fish-friendly river

Another scientist, Lauren Hammack from Prunuske Chatham Inc, spoke on a recent RCLC call about creating the conditions salmonid fish need in the Gualala River. She said juveniles need protected spots in the Mill Bend estuary: nooks and crannies, log jams, deep pools with wood for cover, creek inlets, and wetland vegetation.

Restoring salmon is a goal that can improve a whole river, nourishing dozens of species (including humans), growing healthier forests, and holding off the cold grip of extinction for even more animals and birds. A glimmer of hope exists in the recent sampling of Gualala River water that showed slight environmental traces of coho salmon DNA. So there are a few intrepid survivors still left.

The recovery process can be long, the work demanding, the outcome uncertain, but we have a powerful partner on our side-- Mother Nature. Locally, it's time to speak up and protect this river ecosystem. If we do, coho salmon can once again swim the jade waters of a wild and scenic river, helping dozens of other species to thrive.

Note: All opinions are my own and do not reflect the organizations working to restore salmon. Robin A.

Adventure reading on salmon restoration

Totem Salmon, Life Lessons from Another Species, by Freeman House.

“Totem Salmon is both a lyric ode to a charismatic animal and a memoir of one man’s calling to a regenerative life’s work.” A Whole Earth review about a true, sometimes dramatic, story of a man with a mission to save the salmon on the Mattole River in Humboldt County, CA.

A canoe trip along the Gualala River (1.5 minutes)