Two Empty Rivers
When I moved to Massachusetts in 2010, state-published fishing guides were still promoting Atlantic salmon runs in the Merrimack River. Massachusetts and New Hampshire had infused money and fish into the river to encourage the return of these majestic animals. Initially I was excited. While every angler I talked to was aware of the states’ initiatives, each also discouraged me from building any hope for salmon fishing. The fish didn’t take. Or, the river didn’t take them. In a few years any salmon seen were simply an anomaly.
I shared my story with New York Times bestselling author Mark Kurlansky. He understood. His story is similar. “I grew up on the Connecticut River. I saw it every day. I had no idea that there were ever salmon in that river,” Kurlansky says. “They tried to reintroduce them. The river is cleaner, but it didn’t work. When I think about the Connecticut, what I picture is dams.”
Conservation Starts at Home
Kurlansky recently authored Salmon: A Fish, the Earth and the History of their Common Fate. Although the plight of New England rivers is integral to the story of salmon, the book spans the globe and goes back centuries before colonization. Europe, Asia, and North America have all had relationships with the fish that annually come and go. Their value as food, and therefore as a commodity, has linked them to the cultures that have sprung up on the rivers they use for spawning.
Although this relationship was the precursor for damage to the fish and the rivers, it might also be a key to their restoration. “All people are built differently,” Kurlansky says, “but most people are shaped by where they’re from. I think sometimes we’re profoundly shaped by what we’ve lost. In places like Maine and Alaska, serious environmental concerns are being confronted by people across the political spectrum.”
Salmon as Symbols
For communities from the Pacific Northwest to the St. Lawrence Lowland, salmon are symbolic. This cultural significance transcends angling and fish as table fare. As the title of Salmon indicates, the fates of a key species and the place it lives are intertwined. “While I was travelling and researching the book I had this revelation,” Kurlansky says. “I looked at Britain in the Industrial Revolution: they dammed rivers to create energy for the mills, dumped waste, and pretty soon the rivers were dead. Many early New England cities were British, and they did the same thing. Then, a lot of people who moved to the Pacific Northwest were New Englanders.”
The book doesn’t advocate eliminating river use, angling, or even fish farming. Kurlansky hopes in our ability to see where we’ve erred and learn from mistakes. It is a balanced approach that appeals to science, beauty, and nostalgia in equal measure. The tone is never preachy or condescending, but succeeds in eliciting care and affection. It is easy to see that salmon are remarkable fish. The book communicates how they are also important fish.
Mark Kurlansky and I concluded our conversation in the same place where we started: New England rivers. His Connecticut; my Merrimack. He wistfully spoke about Atlantic salmon and where they still swim. He acknowledged the need to continue fighting against the Pebble Mine in Alaska, but also noted that there are exponentially fewer Atlantic salmon than those who use Bristol Bay for spawning. “Did you know that the word salmon was invented for Atlantic salmon?” he asked. I didn’t. “They’re like nothing else. And when you hook into them, they’re like wild fury on the end of a string. They are an incredible fish.”
Salmon: A Fish, the Earth and the History of their Common Fate by Mark Kurlansky is an essential modern addition to any angler’s library. Along with the excellent historical information, the hardcover edition features spectacular photography. It is available from Patagonia or wherever you buy your books.