Author of The Quest for the Golden Trout
Douglas M. Thompson
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The American Fisheries Society blurs the lines

9/1/2015

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The American Fisheries Society (AFS) that includes more than 9000 members took umbrage with my piece The Cost of Trout Fishing in the New York Times (NYT) last April. They call my piece inaccurate and complain about fundamental misunderstandings in fisheries management. I can assure the readers that all my facts were meticulously referenced and were carefully fact-checked by the editorial staff at the NYT. I was actually amazed at the amount of behind the scenes work and factual confirmation that went into a short op-ed piece of this nature. I stand by what I said in the NYT and I thought it would be useful to do a little factual checking on the claims AFS made in their editorial.

The AFS editorial seems to intentionally blur the facts through a change in terminology and misdirection with the stocking numbers they use. At the heart of the issue is a somewhat disingenuous tactic and alteration in wording AFS uses to switch the discussion from my focus on native versus nonnative species in the NYT piece, to an argument of hatchery versus wild trout in their response editorial. As AFS is fully aware, wild trout could be either native or nonnative. The National Park Service, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and U.S. Forest Service have all taken action to remove non-native trout or prevent their spread with barriers because they are impacting threatened and endangered species, including native trout species. The fact that AFS was unwilling to focus on the topic of native versus nonnative trout stocking is very disheartening.

AFS leads off its editorial disputing the fact that fishing pressure has had and continues to have an important impact on trout populations. Robert Behnke, a.k.a. “Dr. Trout,” THE expert on native trout in the U.S. attributed the presumed extinction of Alvord trout to stocking of nonnative trout, not habitat loss. With regard to Gila and Apache Trout he said in his book Trout and Salmon of North America, “the impact of hybridization with stocked rainbow trout has been the major cause of the great decline in both Gila and Apache Trout.” The U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) data sheet on rainbow trout further support this claim. The problem with cutbows and hybridization of nonnative rainbow and other native cutthroat trout is also well documented. Behnke stated “Appalachian brook trout has been greatly reduced by nonnative trout.” And he said “The introduction of nonnative brown trout and brook trout probably hastened the demise of the bull trout.” To ignore the fact that stocking of nonnative trout hurts native trout and is a function of fishing pressure is naive and misinformed. The simple fact that state and federal hatcheries need to stock 130 million trout every year, many of them nonnative species, highlights the continued roll that fishing pressure plays on native trout populations.

In a fairly interesting twist, AFS and I used the exact same source to document the numbers of annual fish stocking in the United States. In 2008, M. A. Halverson wrote an article “Stocking Trends: A Quantitative Review of Governmental Fish Stocking in the United States, 1931–2004” in the AFS publication Fisheries. I carefully used Halverson’s data to determine the number of trout stocked each year. AFS decided to also lump in bass, pike, walleye, salmon, etc. to report the 1.75 billion fish of all species stocked each year. They then point out that most fish are stocked as juveniles and are very small in size. They conveniently ignore the statement by Halverson that “96% by weight of the fish stocked by the federal government in 2004 were salmonids and more than 40% of the fish stocked by the federal government were rainbow trout.” If we use Halverson’s numbers and also include state hatcheries, 91.6% of stocking by weight is salmonids and 63.7 % of stocking by weight are trout (This total does not include stocking of landlocked Atlantic salmon and Kokanee salmon for purely recreational fishing). Because the total weight of fish produced is a direct function of the amount they are fed and the time fish spend in a hatchery, the weight of stocked fish is a much better measure of the resources allocated to raising these trout than the total number of fish. The AFS decision to focus on numbers of all fish stocked instead of weight of trout, very conveniently hides the fact that the vast majority of rearing and feeding effort at state and federal hatcheries is focused on trout production for recreational angling.

AFS disputes some of the pellet production numbers as well. They claim that reduction fisheries are expected to support modest growth in the future. This subject is an incredibly complex and political issue in itself. In 2011, NOAA and USDA jointly authored a publication (M. B. Rust et al., The Future of Aquafeeds (Silver Spring, MD: NOAA/USDA Alternative Feeds Initiative, November 2010), which made the following statement;

 “… as stocks of pelagic or reduction fisheries used for feed, direct consumption, and bait are limited and already fully utilized.”

In particular, the statement “already fully utilized” is important because it indicates that the agencies believed the catch limit was set at the maximum sustainable yield. In 2012, NOAA revised their evaluation of the Atlantic menhaden fisheries. The NOAA Menhaden Fishing Facts Website contains one unambiguous and one ambiguous statement. In particular the website (updated January 2012) clearly states,

“Based on the revised 2009 Atlantic menhaden stock assessment and the new fishing mortality threshold, overfishing is occurring."

The website then contains a very ambiguous, non-committal statement,

“It is unknown whether the stock is overfished. Sensitivity runs of the model in the 2012 assessment update produced conflicting results regarding the overfished status.”

These statements obviously will leave most people completely confused about NOAA’s opinion on the sustainability of Atlantic menhaden harvests taking place at that time (January, 2012). However, policy decisions soon after then clarify that NOAA felt it needed to take action to lower catch limits in the Atlantic (one of the major sources of fish for fishmeal) in 2013. As detailed in this NYT piece and elsewhere, the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission lowered the catch limit by a very large amount, 20% (Jess Bidgood,” Broad Catch Limits Are Put on an Unglamorous but Essential Fish” New York Times, December 14, 2012). In particular, the article states;

 “Regulators on Friday voted to reduce the harvest of Atlantic menhaden by 20 percent, placing a broad catch limit on a critical fishery that has until now been largely unregulated.”

Fisheries managers have clearly had recent concerns about the catch limits for some of the reduction fisheries. There are also numerous scientific articles pointing to the general collapse of reduction fisheries stocks in the 1950s and 1960s. I fully support the move from fish meal to vegetable protein in pellets AFS mentions, but until the proposed numbers for 2022 AFS relies on are actually achieved, it is important for informed citizens like myself to express our concerns about using marine species to feed trout raised purely for recreation.

When it comes to feeding these fish, AFS claims a “near 1 to 1” conversion factor for fish. They use this number to suggest that “most of the feed going into hatcheries comes out “on the fin” not as waste.” Of course if fish had an exact 1 to 1 feed ratio they would be no trout excrement. We know that fish poop, so how much higher than “1 to 1” is the ratio? In addition, both uneaten food and mortality outcomes are clear sources of potential nutrient waste. Citing this single number, AFS ignores food that is never consumed by fish and falls to the bottom of pens and fish mortality at hatcheries. At my local trout hatchery, the manager reported an approximate 85% survival rate for fish. That would suggest food was waste
for 15% of the fish raised, which then die and are a source of nutrients. When completing my calculation for food input versus stocked fish production, I used a value of 1.2 pounds of food for every 1.0 pound of trout raised (17% of food delivered to hatcheries is potential waste). This is a fairly conservative estimate that originates from a feeding guideline produced by a pellet manufacturer and confirmed with the manager of the large trout hatchery near my home (G. W. Klontz, A Manual for Rainbow Trout Production on the Family-Owned Farm (South Murray, UT: Nelson and Sons, 1991). The main point is that millions of pounds of nutrient waste are produced.

With regard to effluent from these hatcheries, I certainly understand that hatcheries are regulated by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, as are all industries with point source discharges including animal feedlots, sewage treatment plants and commercial manufacturers. One key difference is that very few other industries are charged with enforcing water quality standards for their own manufacturing activities. For Connecticut and many other state agencies, the hatchery production and water quality management functions are carried out by the same basic branch of government. More importantly, AFS conveniently ignores the fact that many hatcheries directly release water from hatchery pens without any pretreatment, as long as the concentrations of nutrients in the water adhere to the EPA discharge permits. AFS also readily admits that some hatcheries are out of compliance.

AFS claims that the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) tests medicines to insure they are “proven safe to the environment.” FDA does animal testing in laboratory settings, but this does not ensure that a drug is safe for an entire aquatic ecosystem. According to the FDA, “"Safe" in this sense means that the benefits of the drug appear to outweigh the known risks.” The USGS is the federal agency that raised concerns about the discharge of antibiotics into our nation’s rivers and streams from hatcheries (E. M. Thurman, J. E. Dietze, and E. A. Scribner, “Occurrence of Antibiotics in Water from Fish Hatcheries,” USGS Fact Sheet 120-02 (2002): 1–5.). Antibiotics by their very nature are designed to kill microorganisms. The USGS was obviously concerned that antibiotic contaminated effluent from hatcheries had the potential to negatively impact aquatic ecosystems. I stand by this source.

AFS raises a final point that genetics are considered in fish stocking. Once again, they refer to “wild” fish, ignoring the critical native versus nonnative species issue. AFS also admits that “for fish whose only destiny is the creel, breeding programs are somewhat relaxed.” If we consider again the fact that a massive amount of the hatchery effort in terms of weight of fish raised is focused on instant put-and-take fisheries, the “relaxed” breeding programs and frequent stocking of nonnative trout obviously becomes a more serious issue than AFS would like to admit.

In closing, I was not surprised when the commercial marine fisheries lobbying groups complained about the negative press reduction fisheries received in the NYT op-ed. Industry representatives and their friends in the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration hounded me for a couple of weeks until I produced a lengthy response carefully documenting every one of my claims. NOAA responded with a rather no committal statement, “NOAA does not comment on the global status of herring, menhaden and anchovy harvest quantities.” That was the last I heard of that.

Soon afterward, the American Fisheries Society decided to weigh in on my discussion of stocking of native versus nonnative trout and the impact they had on the environment with what seems to be a fairly politically-motivated stance. That response was finally published in august 2015. In doing so, AFS revealed an industry bias that surprised me greatly. Their subtle change in subject highlights the fact that AFS authors’ primary emphasis is on creation of fishing opportunities not ecosystem conservation. They confirm this economic justification by citing revenue and employment numbers associated with angling in the U.S. I understand that recreational fishing produces lots of money for state and federal governments and local businesses. More importantly, these funds are critical to the budgets of many of the agencies who manage recreational fisheries. I am disappointed that a scientific organization like AFS seemed to care more about the economic bottom line than the aquatic ecosystems many of their members study. If money is really the bottom line behind hatchery production, perhaps AFS should argue for construction of more hydropower dams or manufacturing plants with a cut going to state agencies to more effectively generate income along these river systems. Obviously, I am not serious. But this logic highlights the fact that if we use economics as the primary justification for river management decisions, the rivers will suffer. Anglers and concerned citizens need to care about rivers and all the native species they contain, especially if organizations like AFS don’t seem to care.
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Beauty in Motion

8/21/2015

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As you can probably guess, it is unlikely you will catch me today with a fishing rod in my hands. However, I cannot deny the allure of trout and in the past made the foolhardy attempt to catch them with my bare hands. These forays were always chance encounters when my main purpose for the day was to probe the river for some hoped-for discovery. I was usually scanning the waters with an eye towards the elements of water and rock, when a slight movement caught my eye. I learned that it was fairly easy to get close to trout if you slowly waded up to them from behind. Many trout seem to be swimming in their sleep, unaware they are being stalked. They are so intent on the current or morsel ahead, they fail to see the danger creeping up on them. Human society exhibits this same fatal fault.

      Luckily for the trout, I made a very poor grizzly bear despite years of practice. My paws often touched a tail or belly, but not for long. In more than two decades, I only caught a few trout and a handful of other species. In my rare moments of success, the prize always seemed diminished without the magnification of the water. The unblinking eye did not understand the point of the game. It seemed somehow pointless for me to rejoice at pawing my prey when the consequences of failure were so unevenly balanced.

      Now I am more interested in photographing trout than catching them. I don’t want to harm the trout in any way and a camera is a pretty non-invasive tool. Unfortunately, even these attempts often end in some disappointment when the images fail to contain the deep, illustrious glow that reflects the true spirit of the trout. Similarly, the dust covered trout mounted as trophies above thousands of fireplaces might help to illustrate good fishing stories, but equally fail to capture the essence of the majestic creatures. I now realize that the beauty of the fish is in its motion. It is this gracefulness that has drawn many people to the river. Few people can argue that trout are most beautiful while they are still swimming in the river.




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Building Bridges

4/23/2015

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I had a nice telephone conversation with Chris Wood, the president and CEO of Trout Unlimited. We talked about my piece in the New York Times “The Cost of Trout Fishing” and his blog response on the TU website “Don’t blame anglers.” When Chris and I see “problems” in a river, we don’t necessarily lists identical items, but we do agree on most of the major concerns. Humans have both purposefully and unintentionally modified ecosystems at an alarming rate. Humans now move more sediment and soil around than most natural processes. Deforestation of watersheds, the every-growing networks of pavement that seal off more and more landscapes, and impacts from dams all threaten rivers nationwide. Climate change will create more questions and concerns for streams and brooks, especially those that hold native trout. And, yes, we agree that protection of native trout is very important.

I am also concerned about some of the negative aspects associated with the recreational fishing industry and the associated economic drivers for the management of rivers. Stocking of nonnative species, impacts from hatchery operations and physical manipulation of rivers can create long-term problems for rivers. Critiques of fishing, including mine, create friction with anglers who otherwise feel they are on the correct side of the river conservation and preservation issue. I know that anglers need to be part of any solution to the problems river face today. Roughly 28 million Americans will buy freshwater fishing licenses this year and more than 290 million will not. TU’s 135,000 members and I share a passion for the protection of aquatic ecosystems, trout and salmon. Unfortunately, we are greatly outnumbered; most people are indifferent. Anglers and non-anglers who care about rivers need to find common ground. Otherwise, how are we going to convince the rest of the nation that their public waters need more restoration and better management? The answer is not simply for everyone to pick up a fishing rod, as has been suggested to me more than once when I mention I gave up angling for environmental reasons.

Rivers are complex entities with rich histories, dynamic currents and uncertain futures. Our perception of rivers is just as multifaceted. Rivers are places for contemplation and soul searching. Rivers are also economic resources that fuel hydropower production, transportation networks and a number of entertainment industries. Many industries are out for short-term gains, but not all. Fishing is an industry, economics drive management decisions and anglers are viewed as customers and consumers. But individual anglers and even groups of anglers don’t see themselves this way. They often have much more altruistic motives for fishing with an honest love of the outdoors and a passion for protection of rivers. For many different reasons, people want free-flowing rivers with healthy ecosystems to canoe downstream, fish along, swim within, stroll beside and collect data from. If the ultimate goal is to improve our nation’s rivers, the key is finding a shared vision to address problems effecting rivers.

There are many organizations citizens can look to for support. Local watershed alliances and land conservation groups have sprouted up all over the country. Large non-profit groups like The Nature Conservancy, American Rivers and Trout Unlimited work to organize for their own causes, which benefit rivers on the whole. Visit your local river, learn what the issues are, find a group that share your concerns and get involved. Politicians at the town, state and federal level listen to voter concerns. Individually, these activities can accomplish a great deal, together they can do more. It is time to build bridges among various interest groups in a more coordinated fight for more conservation and preservation of rivers. Rivers need everyone’s help, anglers and non-anglers alike, to create better aquatic ecosystems now and in the future.

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Restructured Rivers

3/5/2015

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I was contacted by an individual who had read The Quest for the Golden Trout and asked to provide some insight into a river “restoration” project underway on Flat Creek near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The reader became increasingly concerned about the type of work underway after they had learned about some of the problems I documented in my book. A look at the project in Wyoming made it obvious to me why the reader was concerned.

The Wyoming Fish and Wildlife Department helped supervise the project of Flat Creek, which involved a long list of funding groups and volunteer collaborators. As is often the case, sediment was fingered as the ultimate problem in the channel. A website explained the desire to remove excess sediment from the system and restore natural processes. The creek itself looked like a nice meandering piece of water that slowly worked its way through a wide meadow of tall grasses. Like most meandering rivers, this was a system that would naturally erode across this wide floodplain carving new channels and discarding lopped off arms of water to slowly silt up during floods. Meandering rivers are meant to move.

One statement stopped me in my tracks and served as the ultimate embodiment of what we had become as managers of rivers. According to the project designers, "the project will involve removing old structures and replacing them with new structures.” I wondered how many generation of projects would be needed before the creek was no longer recognizable as a real river. Somehow the process of restoring this creek had become a periodic maintenance project where human will ignore natural channel change and perpetually decide what is best for the waterway. In this case, the project designers thought Flat Creek should be a meandering river that did not meander.

From 1978 until 1987 large numbers of structures were placed along the Flat Creek system, including 167 lunkers, which they called skyhook bank cover panels. Other structures that needed replacement included a collection of triangular deflectors installed in 1984 that look like they had been built to the design specifications laid out by Clarence Tarzwell in 1938. They looked like nothing you would ever expect to find in a meadow brook. Photographs of the decades old construction efforts showed backhoes and bulldozers scraping away vegetation from the banks and dumping loads of sediment on top of the lunkers. Clouds of sediment emanating from these construction projects and billowing down the channel are obvious. In places it looks like the bulldozers were leaking chocolate milk into the creek. Remembering that managers said sediment was the real problem, these photographs seemed like documentation of our own stupidity.

In 1983, managers decided to deal with the excess sediment in the channel bed by utilizing riffle scrubbers where jets of high pressure water were used to flush sediments out from between larger rocks. The website did not mention if they went back and reflushed the sediments to remove the siltation their bulldozer had just reintroduced to the river. Heavy equipment was even used at one point to dredge the creek “to speed up natural processes.” I kept looking for natural processes in the photographs, but all I saw were shots of yellow construction vehicles, lumber shelving and a scattering of other engineered solutions. Altogether the groups put in more than ½ mile of lunkers and tree revetments, 100 feet of riprap and 20 deflectors to keep the creek pinned in place. Meanwhile, the pictures showed a grassy meadow without a tree anywhere near the creek. I wondered how natural it was to have a lumbered up river in a place with no trees along its banks. Erosion of the banks was to be eliminated unless we directly caused it with our machines.

Project proponents indicated that “trout clearly benefited from the improved habitat.” They presented evidence that showed trout biomass levels in 1992 were five times levels in 1984. Unfortunately, they seem to have forgotten that the project was actually started in 1978 and continued until 1987. Their own data show that biomass levels in 1987 dropped slightly from 1984, and then increased rapidly in 1990. It is always hard to pinpoint a cause and effect relation in a complex system like a Wyoming Creek, but it certainly seems possible to me that the biomass data show how detrimental in-stream construction projects are on the trout. It is hard to imagine trout prospering in a system where banks are ripped apart and then reconstructed by backhoes, bulldozers push sediment on the banks around and scores of humans walk up and down the bed of the channel to install shelving units. The trout populations did not seem to recover until after the bulldozers were removed. Unfortunately for the creek and the trout it contains, the bulldozers are returning to help impose the latest human blueprint of our interpretation of a natural channel. I guess our last effort did not work after all.

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A river that wants to be a river

8/27/2014

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This summer I returned with two students to the Zealand River near Twin Mountain NH to see what 50 years of gabions, rock-filled wire baskets that are roughly 3 ft x 3 ft x 12 ft, have done to the river. The short answer is nothing good.

I have been to this site multiple times over the years, but it still catches me a little bit by surprise when I see the scale of the project and the immensity of the mess it left behind. The Zealand River is a classic example of how overreaction to a flood can lead to projects that create decades of bad outcomes for rivers and the fish they contain. When rivers flood they tend to change the landscape as we saw recently with the flooding by Hurricane Irene in Vermont.

On the Zealand River, flooding in the late 1950s prompted the project designed to prevent bank erosion. Thousands of wire-mesh baskets were filled with rock and placed in rows along the edges of the river to wall in the river and wall out sediment. A few gabions were also strung across the river to prevent the river from cutting down. Of course, the reason we have valleys is because rivers erode down. Floodplains are the result of the lateral motion project designers wanted to eliminate. The gabion installation was an attempt to force a river to no longer act like a river. Not surprisingly, the river is still a river and it still is acting like one.

The first thing to fail was probably the gabion dams, weirs and sills strung across the channel. Bedload rolling across the wire would have created plenty of abrasion of gabion wire and eventually weakened the structures. With the gabions damaged, downcutting of the newly walled in river accelerated because of the deeper, faster current. As the bed of the river began to lower, gabion walls became undermined. Soon walls pitched forward and fell into the river. In areas were the walls fell in, the river often created avulsions with new channels cut into the floodplain, further undermining gabion walls.

Today the Zealand River is a muddled scene of destroyed walls, abandoned sections of channel, wide zones dominated by massive deposition of eroded sediments and lots of tangled wire. There is little habitat created my large wood and shade is mostly absent. Fish are not particularly plentiful despite efforts to stock the river. The Zealand River is not a place anyone would want to paint, have a picnic or spend the day fishing. Perhaps, it could be a place where we learn from our mistakes and remember to let rivers behave like rivers, even when they flood.



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Trout Fishing and the American Way of Life

7/16/2014

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To many people, trout fishing is as American as hot dogs, apple pie and baseball. Art Lee claims that trout fishing is “American’s favorite form of outdoor recreation” (Lee, 1998, p. xvii). Still, before we grab our fly fishing rods and demand entry into the Fourth of July Parade, we should keep in mind that hot dogs, apple pie and baseball are not really that American in the first place. When we look more closely we realize that our beloved frankfurters and associated hamburgers are named for two Germany cities. Although there is some debate over who actually created the first hot dog, it seems very likely the idea originated in Germany or Austria, not the good old U.S. of A. Similarly, the apples in our homemade pies were originally introduced to America from Asia. They eventually arrived, like the brown trout, on boats from Europe. Baseball is truly a domestic sport, but has obvious origins from the older English games of cricket and rounders. Baseball has also been recently tainted by the revelation of the use of steroids by many players, but that is true of trout rearing too. In comparison, Izaak Walton wrote the single most famous angling book, The Compleat Angler, in 1653 only 33 years after the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock. Native Americans were fishing long before the first European settlers arrived, but many of the modern fishing techniques, that include the fishing rod, originated overseas. Clearly, the major fishing clubs and some of their most famous members often looked to England as a source of inspiration. Yet many people still firmly believe in the patriotism of these various borrowed traditions.

In many cases, the American patriotism associated with fly-fishing, assumes an air of elitism. One writer states that “it was on American streams that fly casting as an art in itself began to assume a place of special importance” (Brooks, 1985 p. 19). In a similar sentiment another well-know professional angler suggests that “well traveled American fly fishermen are the most accomplished practitioners of the sport on earth” (Lee, 1998 p. 19). In comparison the author mentions his “impression of the typical British angler as being rather staid” (Lee, 1998 p. 245). It is clear that some differences developed over the years in the type of equipment used here versus over the pond. One author talks about the different length fly-fishing poles used by British and American anglers, and has a clear bias towards the shorter lighter rods used in the states (Brooks, 1985). Whether all the chest thumping really matters is another question.

If we look today at the general status of trout fishing in the United States and the role of economic and social status, no single individual or event represents the so-called smoking gun to prove discrimination. However, the cumulative efforts of many wealthy and politically-connected people managed to remove from the public trust large segments of the country’s most desirable and fishable waters. The funds to acquire these lands came from many different sources, but certainly a sizable portion can be directly linked to commercial and industrial activities that caused more environmental damage than was ever rectified by preserving rivers through privatization. We will never know the true intentions or motives for many of these millionaire’s actions, but it is hard to argue many of these affluent anglers deserve the modern label of environmentalists. The role that social aspirations and desires for upward mobility played cannot be ignored. It seems much more fitting to describe these fishy folks as elitists. In a country where wealth, success and happiness are such interconnected concepts, it is interesting to think how much of our traditions are inherited from Europe.



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Panning for Gold with Haley

4/23/2014

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Perhaps you wondered about that initial story described in the introduction of panning for gold in the artificial sluiceway. I assure you these places really do exist, and I really did take my daughter along to see her reaction to the game. Surprisingly I had already written the introduction in the third person, but figured I needed to witness the escapade myself. I eventually modified the introduction to describe our adventure.

As I mention in the book, we did not head straight to the only local place I knew that operated a panning sluice, but first went to the local trout hatchery. I wanted pictures of hatchery-raised trout, stocking trucks and food pellets, and I thought my daughter would enjoy a visit to the facility. It was mostly in the right direction anyways, and it just seemed to make sense. She was excited to see the huge trout, asked many questions of me, and followed my lead snapping pictures of the fish and the surrounding environment. I was exceedingly proud that she seemed more excited about the osprey we saw flying overhead than the fish in the pens below. Throughout the day, my daughter and I both learned a great deal peering through each other’s eyes.

      After our trip to the hatchery we jumped back in the car and headed west for about one half of an hour to try our luck panning for gold. We were on our way to a state park and museum with a world-class collection of dinosaur footprints. As soon as we arrived, I showed my daughter the sluice and the big sign advertising the adventure. She did not seem to quite understand how the game would be played, but was excited to learn. We went inside where I discovered that we had a total of four options. There were three different sized bags, identified as the ‘red’, ‘white’ and ‘green’ bags, that contained gemstones mixed in with sand, and a fourth ‘blue’ bag that contained fossils and sand. We were handed a nicely-colored brochure and asked to make a choice. Even though I had a vested interest in the scheme, I pushed my daughter towards the cheapest option, the $5.50 red bag. I felt slightly guilty that I was not willing to splurge for the deluxe $9.00 green bag and the promise of the bigger catch. Perhaps if it was called the ‘rainbow’ bag or even the ‘brown’ bag, I might have taken the bait.

      We headed back outside and I helped her get started. I filled one of the many sieves supplied at the sluice with the sand and gem mixture, noting already a few colorful treasures hidden amongst the river rubble. I handed my daughter the sieve and instructed her in the gentle art of panning for gold, but she was a little reluctant to dip her hands into the chocolate-colored water of the sluice. She started swishing the sieve in the water tentatively at first, then with more vigor. I matched her pace with the camera in my hand. Soon, she lost her fear when she saw the first colorful gems start to shine through. She continued with a singular focus. The museum shop had supplied us with a small plastic bag to place our riches. Before long my daughter was plucking out stones of various shapes, sizes and colors. She even managed to find a single nugget of pyrite, which she already knew was fool’s gold. She did not care about looking the fool. The stones were all as valuable as diamonds to her.

      My daughter’s enjoyment was paramount, but I also wanted to blend in as the unbiased observer. I was trying to balance the diametrically-opposed roles of participant and documentary photographer. There was much more activity at the artificial sluice than I had expected. It was spring vacation at the local schools, and many parents and kids had showed up to try their luck. It was hard to get pictures with only my daughter in the frame. Eager little fingers backed by the helpful hands of nurturing parents were everywhere, and space along the sluice was limited. I even heard the park staff talking about running out of ‘river rubble’ as they called it. Apparently, I was being cheap because even the $7.50, $8.00 and $9.00 bags were going fast. Perhaps I should have just ignored the cost and just focused on the entertainment value supplied. Soon a park volunteer with a hand truck was wheeling in three boxes filled with bags of the sand and gem mixture past us and into the museum shop. My daughter was oblivious to the logistical concerns around her; she was having much too much fun.

      As I suspected, minerals of a similar size and breed were selling in the museum shop for $0.39 each. I made sure to snap a picture of my daughter looking at these samples even though the museum shop staff seemed to think I was a bit crazy. Based on our haul, it was about a 20 percent markup to fish for gems instead of buying them at the counter, which did not seem so bad given the fun we both had. The real cost of the gemstones to the manufacturer was unquestionably much less. According to the brochure we were handed, the river rubble was supplied from an adjacent state by a private company called the Cold River Mining Company. In my search for parallels to trout fishing, I could not have conjured up a more appropriate name if I had tried. This business also sold the sluices ranging in price from $2,000 to $7,000 depending on the length, which run from eight to 40 feet long. Given the variety of minerals contained in our bag and the limited geologic supply of the region, the gemstones themselves certainly originated from many faraway places. Perhaps some might have even come from the Pacific Northwest or Europe. Most of the stones were different varieties of quartz and agate, nature’s version of colored glass. A wholesaler I found offered higher quality samples for $13.27 for a one kilogram bag. We only managed to collect 134 grams for $5.50, which is approximately three times more expensive. Somebody was definitely striking it rich, but it was not us.

            It was not until the car ride home that it struck me that both the state trout hatchery and the state park were run by the exact same agency, the Department of Environmental Protection. An ironic twist that was not planned, but very much appreciated. Both facilities were clearly designed to educate its visitors about the world around them using a combination of signs, maps, displays and activities. The hatchery is open to the public seven days a week. The park and museum is open only six days a week. Maybe someday the priorities will change and the situation will be reversed. Despite their shared heritage, the personnel at the two locations probably know very little about the operations at the other facility. Still, I must admit that the connection made me feel pretty good about drawing analogies between panning for fool’s gold and fishing for hatchery trout. Seeing the activities back-to-back made the connection very real. My daughter said that hunting for gems was the highlight of the day, even better than the real dinosaur footprints or the hatchery. I wonder, with a bit of concern, what she will think when she eventually reads this book. I hope it does not ruin the memory of the day. Unfortunately, with age comes new knowledge and with new knowledge often comes disillusionment.

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Twin Mountain Fish Hatchery and Fish and Wildlife Center

3/31/2014

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During my research for the book, I traveled north to New Hampshire and the Twin Mountain Fish Hatchery and Fish and Wildlife Center, which is conveniently located near the Zealand River site that was trashed by so-called stream improvement projects. My visit was short and a bit disappointing. I first stopped off at the older, abandoned section of the hatchery. The area was marked as off limits for visitors, but I figured there was not much damage I could do. A series of concrete raceways, each about 50 feet long, were laid out in neat columns. They were vacant now with just a few muddy puddles and rotting wooden planks. The modern education center and hatchery itself was just across the road. A sign in the parking area mentioned stocking efforts by the New Hampshire Fish and Game Department beginning in the 1880s. The advertisement suggested the facility was needed to meet fishing demands. The sign stated that “the number and kind of fish raised and stocked are based on sound biological research and management plans.” Despite the presence of rainbow and brown trout, the poster did not say anything about non-native species.

I was able to meander around outdoors and see the single series of hatchery raceways in one long line. The end of the pens ended with a culvert that predictably dumped the effluent into the local waterway. Half the raceway was covered with netting, and the remaining trout apparently had to fend off the birds by themselves. At least these fish would know a predator when they saw one. A single round pen was positioned off to the side. It contained the big fish. I walked over a small bridge and peered into the tank. Rainbows, brookies and brown trout were all swimming around waiting for something to happen. Conveniently placed along the walkway were a series of coin operated dispensing machines so that visitors could buy trout food. For a single quarter, children and teachers alike could become part of the modern trout lifecycle. Perhaps the hand feeding process was to train the trout that, unlike birds, humans were not a predator of concern. I decided to save my money, and quickly retreated back across the footbridge towards the main building. Unfortunately for me, the education center was closed because of construction work at the facility. The door under the sign labeled ‘classroom’ was locked. A bit disappointed, I headed back to my car because, apparently, my edification was over for the day.


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Secret Places

3/7/2014

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When anglers do find that rare section of public waters that holds good fishing, many make every effort possible to keep the information undisclosed. John Bailey refers to “secret places” in his 1998 book, Ultimate Freshwater Fishing. John Gierach writes stories about real fishing trips in Still Life with Brook Trout, but still keeps the reader in the dark about the best fishing spots. He relies on the reference “The River Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken,” and makes the comment “I hesitate to say in print – there were trout rising all over the place” (Gierach, 2005 p. 21, 205). Perhaps he believes he is doing the river and its fish a service by maintaining the secret. In many ways I agree, and I believe good things should come to those who explore and discover for themselves. The spirit of exploration is certainly another American characteristic our nation takes pride in. So perhaps we should ultimately thank these writers for their secret service.


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Private to Public

2/4/2014

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Today it is possible to visit the lands of the Sulfolk Club, South Side Sportmen’s Club and the Wyandanch Club. The Sulfolk Club and the South Side Sportsmen’s Club are by far the more famous of the three clubs and their stories are well known. The Wyandanch Club, was another prominent trout angler’s club dating to 1872 several miles north of the South Side Sportmen’s Club. Like the Suffolk Club and South Side Sportsmen’s Club, the Wyandanch Club owned land and a club house. In this case, a 543 acre section of the Nissequogue River complete with its own set of mill ponds. The Wyandanch Club then inspired the twelve-member Nissequogue Club in the same watershed in the late 1880s. Because they apparently did not have enough mill dams on their property, they dammed the river by building special tide floodgates. The motivation for the impoundment was purely to improve the trout fishing, once again at the expense of fish migration.

When looking at their legacy as land conservationists, it is worth trying to understand how and why wealthy fishing clubs transferred their land to the public sector. Both the South Side Sportmen’s Club and Wyandanch Club sold the land to the state in 1963 for tax reasons, but then leased it back for an additional ten years as an exclusive resort. This state sponsored tax dodge eventually ended and the state completely took over both clubs in 1973. In the case of the Suffolk Club, it was purchased outright in 1923 by one of the members, but he was later forced by family members to sell the property to the county. Based on how the land finally fell into public land, the outcome was purely accidental. Luckily, the lands are now protected for the public to enjoy.


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    Douglas M. Thompson
    is a professor of geology in the Department of Physics, Astronomy and Geophysics at Connecticut College.

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