It’s a Saturday in late February. Seven drift boats bob in a line, the current of the Siuslaw River fighting to push them downstream. Still, their anchors hold steady, setting up the perfect position to make a cast. An elderly man leans back in his swivel chair and lights a cigarette, his line already set. For each fishing rod in the boats, there are two on the shoreline. A quiet anticipation hangs on the air. The only sounds are the rush of water against the bank and the subtle click-click-click as a woman reels in her lure to try her luck somewhere else. Camping chairs, the rugged cooler full of beer – for everyone, it seems this is the exact place they want to be on a cloudy weekend in Oregon, and they are all here for the same reason. It’s winter steelhead season.
Though the scene is calm down below, a quarter of a mile upriver, in the clear tributary waters of Whittaker Creek, things are different. Beneath the bridge at Whittaker Creek Campground, where the creek deepens and fishing is prohibited, 50 or so steelhead swim in a tight group, their powerful dark bodies spotted with white fungus.
Steelhead are an anadromous form of the rainbow trout, meaning they spend time in the ocean, then return to fresh water to spawn, a process that is astounding for several reasons. Before the smolts, or juvenile trout are ready to leave freshwater, they begin to undergo a physiological transformation in the brackish estuary at the mouth of the river. Their internal chemistry adjusts to survive in salt water, while their scales turn a lighter silver color that acts as camouflage.
The adult steelhead at Whittaker Creek are long past this smolt stage, their frames bulky from feeding on marine nutrients. The end of their journey is near, though not all will reach their final destination. Signs of wear and tear are obvious; Some will ultimately succumb to the exhaustion of their hundred-mile journey, their bodies sinking to the gravelly bottom. But, for those that do possess sufficient strength and fortune, yet another obstacle blocks their path.
An angled barrier made of metal bars juts over the surface of the water, a fence of sorts that spans the width of the creek. On one side, a vertical slit leads to a large holding cage, marking the only viable path for the ambitious steelhead. Once inside, the fish are unable to return downstream. With this man-made structure, the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife employs some not-so-natural selection.
View of the Whittaker Creek fishing weir from the pedestrian bridge.
There are two types of steelhead in Whittaker Creek: wild and hatchery-born. In the spring, ODFW releases 70,000 smolts where Whittaker Creek meets the Siuslaw River. These hatchery fish then venture out to the Pacific Ocean, along with their wild steelhead counterparts, where they will grow for two or three years. When the fish eventually return to Whittaker Creek, volunteers with the Florence STEP (Salmon Trout Enhancement Program) sort them, releasing the native steelhead upstream and throwing the hatchery fish, which have a clipped adipose fin, back downstream.
Essentially, this process helps maintain the purity of the indigenous steelhead’s genetic makeup. John Spangler, the ODFW biologist who oversees fish management on the Siuslaw River, stresses why the preservation of resilient heredity is so important. “Fish that perform well in a hatchery environment tend to not perform well in the wild and vice versa.” Spangler says. “If hatchery fish stray from the release point they could spawn with wild fish and pass on genetic material that performs poorly in the wild and reduces survival of offspring. This could produce a downward pressure on wild stocks.”
In a 2014 study, scientists from Oregon State University not only confirmed the degradation of genetic quality when hatchery fish spawned with wild steelhead, but they also found that the rate of change was surprisingly quick. The research discovered that in just one generation, between the offspring of indigenous and hatchery-raised steelhead, there was a variation in more than 700 active genes.
Michael Blouin, a professor of interpretive biology at the OSU College of Science told the school's News and Research Communications department, “We expected hatcheries to have a genetic impact. However, the large amount of change we observed at the DNA level was really amazing. This was a surprising result.” Fundamental traits such as healing, metabolism, and resistance to disease, which have been perfected over millions of years by evolution for survival in a specific environment, could potentially unravel in a fraction of the time.
These findings solidify the differences between domesticated and wild trout, while increasing the importance of keeping the two separate. As a testament to how delicate ecosystem management is, even the rain can make this a problematic task.
Large volumes of rainfall swell the creeks and streams. Here lies the limitation of the fish weir system on Whittaker Creek. “Every year when we get a high water event winter steelhead go over the weir,” says Spangler. “We would need a higher structure to prevent migration over the weir during high water events.”
With hatchery fish able to pass the barrier across Whittaker Creek, the possibility of interbreeding is much higher. However, because constructing a taller barrier would be both an eyesore and a costly endeavor, it is a problem that doesn’t really have any feasible solution.
So why even risk interbreeding at all? Well, when the hatchery fish return to the Siuslaw, their sole purpose is not to breed, but to be caught by the many Oregonians who purchase licenses and tags each year in order to enjoy recreational steelhead angling. In a way, introducing hatchery fish to the Siuslaw River system actually acts as a buffer for the native trout population; regulations require the wild, unclipped steelhead to be released if caught, so ideally only hatchery fish are being taken from the river.
Ultimately, the opportunity to reel in a fish notorious for its vigor and fight does in fact create a sizable source of revenue in the state. In 2008, ODFW reported that 631,000 Oregon residents and non-residents participated in fishing activities, with 5.9% of all fish and wildlife related expenditures, or $147 million, benefiting local economies within 50 miles of home for said participants.
Evidence of Oregonians’ love for fishing is not difficult to find. The drizzly, Oregon winters are hardly enough to deter the most determined steelhead fishers. Even in a torrential downpour, odds are, there will be a rod on the shore and a lure in the water of the Siuslaw River. But beyond the excitement of landing a monster catch, there is much more to take into account for the future of native steelhead stocks in the Siuslaw and river systems across the United States.