The Salmons of the Pacific--Legends Concerning Them--The Five
Species--Systems of Migration--Powers of Endurance--Absence of
Kelts--Do They Take a Fly?--Terrible Mortality--"A Vivid Red
Ribbon"--Points of Difference Between the Quinnat and _Salmo
salar_--Work of the Canneries--Artificial Propagation.
No account of the fishing in British Columbia would be complete unless
some mention were made of the salmon, though it is only in tidal water
that they can be caught with the rod, and though in the upper country
they are useless from the fisherman's point of view. The annual
migration of the Pacific coast salmon is a wonderful thing, about which
little has been written, and much requires to be learnt. To those who
have seen it, the phenomenon is most striking, and has vividly impressed
the western imagination, which revels in weird stories concerning it.
Thus it is current report that the waters of Harrison Lake have been
known to rise several inches from some unknown cause, only to be
accounted for by the immense rush of salmon into its waters; that
paddle-steamers have been stopped in the Fraser and at sea by the
salmon armies; that the backs of the fish have made stepping-stones by
which the Fraser has been crossed.
These and similar stories are the folk-lore of British Columbia, and yet
they are almost possible, so immense are the battalions of the salmon
which swarm to the Fraser and other large rivers. It is an astonishing
migration, full of interest and well worthy of study, not only to the
naturalist, but to the student of social economy, as this migration is
the source of an important food supply, and one of the chief industries
of the country. There are fifty canneries established at the mouth of
the Fraser, besides others further north, and between them they export
annually millions of tins of canned salmon.
The Pacific coast salmon in British Columbia comprise five species, all
belonging to the genus _Oncorhynchus_ of the salmonidae family. They are
the king salmon or quinnat, a large fish running up to over 80lb., known
also as the spring salmon; the silver and blue-back salmon, which are
known as the cohoe and sockeye, and are the fish used by the canners;
and the humpback and dog salmon, which are of little value, and only
eaten by the Indians. The first named is the most interesting for the
purpose of this book, as it is the fish which affords the famous sport
at Campbell River. The silver and the blue-back only run to about 10lb.
The two last are pale fleshed, and are hardly considered fit to eat.
The king or tyee, quinnat, spring or chinook salmon (_O. tschawytscha_)
is the most important from the sportsman's point of view, but owing to
its occasional white or very pale pink flesh not so useful to the
canner. It runs from about 15lb. to over 80lb.; fish of 50lb. are
common, and some of 100lb. have been reported. It has sixteen rays in
the anal fin. The back is blackish, and underneath it is not so bright a
silver as the Atlantic salmon. It turns black and not red in the upper
waters.
The sockeye or blue-back (_O. nerka_) is the chief source of the cannery
supply. The anal fin is long, with fourteen rays. The back is blue and
the sides of a bright silver changing to a dark green and dull crimson
in the upper waters. Weight from 3lb. to 10lb. Flesh a deep red.
The cohoe, silver or fall salmon (_O. kisutch_) is also canned, weight
3lb. to 8lb., light green and silver in colour.
The dog salmon (_O. keta_), 10lb. to 12lb. in weight, fourteen rays in
anal fin. It is so called from the misshapen appearance of the head and
teeth of the males at spawning time. Colour of a dark silver, turning
black and reddish in the upper waters.
The humpback (_O. gorbuscha_), the smallest of the family, 3lb. to 6lb.
A hump appears just behind the head of the males at spawning time,
fifteen rays in the anal fin. The flesh of these last two species is not
much used.
Of these fish the spring salmon appears first in the Fraser in the early
spring, and progresses steadily up the river as far as it is possible to
go, apparently keeping more up the main current and avoiding the Shuswap
Lake to which the Thompson leads (at least it is very little noticed in
that river), whereas the sockeyes swarm up it in great numbers. It does
not seem to travel in large schools in these waters. A few arrive in
Kamloops Lake during July, but it is never much in evidence in the
Thompson River district. It is doubtless a very powerful swimmer.
Professor Jordan points out that this and the other species are
remarkable for the great number of developed rays in the anal fin and
tail, which must aid the fish immensely in its long journey against the
strong water of the Fraser.
The progress of all these fish is made by steady travelling in the
slacker water at the sides of the river. I have often watched them
slowly making their way upwards in the clear water of the Thompson, one
noticeable fact being that they do not rise much to the surface or ever
leap into the air, like our own fish. In the lakes, and occasionally in
pools of the Thompson, I have seen them roll over in the water, but
never leap into the air. It seems not unreasonable to suppose that one
reason for the leaping of the Atlantic salmon is because he is
practising for the time when he will have to jump a difficult waterfall
in the river he ascends. But in the inland lakes and rivers the Pacific
salmon never leap, and, in fact, are seen but little on the surface. On
the other hand the trout appear to leap quite as much as the European
species. On Fish Lake the rainbows are leaping continually.
The Pacific salmon has no skill in jumping, he merely swims on
continuously; indeed, he appears perfectly incapable of negotiating the
smallest waterfall. I have seen thousands of Pacific salmon stopped
hopelessly by a fall which would not hinder a small European sea-trout.
It may be that the tremendous nature of the journey already completed
has robbed him of the energy necessary for leaping, but experience would
lead me to believe that the Pacific salmon trusts to immense powers of
endurance, which enable him to travel thousands of miles against a
frightful current rather than to a short journey and one or two big
jumps.
This fact is certainly worthy of further investigation and note, in view
of the introduction into British Columbia of the Atlantic salmon. There
must be numbers of rivers barred to the Pacific fish which would be
quite easy of access to the Atlantic. I doubt much if the quinnat could
tackle an ordinary artificial salmon ladder, though there are
undoubtedly numbers of streams in British Columbia which could be
rendered navigable to _Salmo salar_ by such means. A small hatchery
established on such a river might at once establish the European fish in
these waters.
On the other hand it is very doubtful if the present attempt to
acclimatise _Salmo salar_ by the introduction of small fry into the
Fraser can avail much. Few could hope to survive and compete with the
countless myriads of the sockeyes, while it is doubtful if the Atlantic
fish could ever make its way for hundreds of miles against the Fraser
current. It is not fitted for a slow journey of weeks and even months,
but rather for one of some few hours with a strong leap at the end which
lands it at once in the destined pool or lake.
There are two other points which will strike the fishermen in British
Columbia waters. One is the absence of kelts at any time of the year.
The other is the fact that, though the waters are often alive with young
salmon, none are ever caught on the fly. The first point is explained by
the fact that these fish die after spawning. There is no doubt that this
is well established, though there is something to be accounted
for--namely, the large specimens of each species, which must undoubtedly
either be survivors of a former run or else fish which have stayed in
salt water to a more advanced age. To take the example of a spring
salmon of 80lb.; this fish would, in Europe, be reckoned as at least ten
years old and probably a great deal more. Are we to conclude that such a
fish has never been into fresh water before, or is it not more probable
that he has only been in the habit of frequenting some lake at a short
distance from the sea, and returning thence in time to escape death from
exhaustion? The large specimens of the other species might also be
accounted for in this manner.
The second point is merely a fact, and does not require any explanation,
except that it may have some bearing on the matter of the adult fish not
taking the fly. I would not go so far as to say that these young fish
have never been known to take a fly, but I never remember catching one
myself, and they certainly do not take it as the salmon parr do in our
waters. It is of course possible that many may be taken and supposed to
be trout. But if such were the case, it would surely be more commonly
known and noticed. Very little appears to be known of the habits of the
young fish or the time they spend in fresh water before they go down to
the sea.
It has been a much debated question as to whether the British Columbia
salmon takes the fly, and it may be stated once for all that it does do
so, but only in tidal waters. In the up-country lakes and rivers it
takes nothing, and those who may have seen its migrations will easily
understand the reason. The fish have no time to feed or rest; they may
be seen ceaselessly though slowly pressing on in the shallow water at
the sides of the Fraser or Thompson, as if pressed on by the weight of
those behind, impelled by some all-powerful desire to get to their
journey's end, to spawn and die. None return, and the lakes and pools of
the rivers are filled with corpses, on which bears, eagles, and all
creatures which can eat fish are filled to the full.
There is no time to look at bait of any kind, for it is a terrible
journey through the rapid waters of the Fraser, and many fish show the
marks of bruises and cuts, while few are in an eatable condition by the
time they reach Kamloops Lake.
This journey would seem to take them three or four weeks from the time
they appear at the Fraser mouth, about 200 miles in distance. Anyone who
has ever seen Hell's Gate, in the terrible canyon of the Fraser, and
these millions of struggling fish slowly pushing their way upwards
without a moment's rest, impelled by the _vis a tergo_ of the swarms
behind, and each one anxious only to move forward, can easily understand
how impossible it would be in such a struggle for mere existence that a
fish should pause to take bait. Even in our own rivers running salmon
practically never take. It is only when they have reached some pool or
resting-place that they will look at a lure. But when these masses of
fish emerge into the large lakes, the first comers must still be
remorselessly driven on by the mass of those behind until the farthest
limits and some impassable barrier is reached. I have never seen the
spawning-beds myself. Jordan says they spawn in 1ft. to 3ft. of water in
rivers like _salar_, but one can readily imagine the desperate struggle
for existence that must go on as the swarms reach the grounds and fight
for positions; while no doubt on their outskirts are small armies of
trout and other fish eager to devour the eggs as soon as they are laid.
As the salmon seem to pass right up to the headquarters (_cf._ Jordan)
they would get beyond the _big_ trout. Probably it is here that their
numbers protect them, the trout being unable to penetrate their close
ranks until the eggs are laid and concealed in the gravel and death
begins to be busy among the salmon. Possibly here, too, may be some
protection, for doubtless the other fish prey on the dead carcases,
which would be a more obvious food supply than the hidden eggs. This
description of spawning-beds is mere imagination, as I have never met
anyone who had seen them; but it is probably much exceeded by the
reality.
A short description of what I _have_ seen will help to realise what must
take place on the spawning-beds. It must be noted that the salmon runs
are in cycles. Every fourth year is a big run of sockeye, and when there
is a small run of these fish there may be a big run of humpbacks or dog
salmon. One year in the early nineties the Thompson presented a strange
sight to travellers in the Canadian Pacific trains, though as the trains
pass this part in the very early morning probably few saw it. The line
here closely follows the river, and in the canyon rises to several
hundred feet above it, so that a splendid view of the river is
obtained. At this time, as seen from above, the deep blue water of the
stream was bordered on each side by a vivid red ribbon, which when seen
closer proved to be the array of sockeyes struggling up the side eddies
in countless myriads. How long this lasted I cannot say, but I saw it
several times on my professional journeys on the railway. It was a very
wonderful sight. Every fish was about the same size, about 7lb. or 8lb.,
and all were deep red in colour. The time of year was about September.
In 1901 I had occasion to go from Spence's Bridge to Nicola Lake in
early September; the stage-route is along the banks of the river, which
at that time was very low. A run of humpbacks was going on; the pools
were black with them, and the shallows between the pools presented a
most remarkable appearance; the water was only a few inches deep, and
between the stones the humpbacks were slowly wriggling upwards in
countless thousands, only half covered by the water. When the coach was
high above the river they looked like an army of tadpoles blackening the
river bed, their colour being almost black with a reddish tinge at the
sides. The male fish alone has the curious hump well developed in the
breeding season; it is situated just behind the head and is about
3/4in. high, resembling the hump of a camel; the female has only a very
small one. At an Indian village which we passed two or three Indians
were standing in the water armed with long gaffs with which they hooked
the fish out and threw them to the squaws on the bank, who were
cleaning, splitting, and hanging them up on long fir poles to dry in the
sun. A rancher living near here informed me that he took the trouble to
count the number on one pole and thereby estimate their total catch. I
forget his figures, but believe it was several hundred thousand--a mere
flea-bite to the total number of fish in the river, which must have run
into millions. The fish were unable to get into Nicola Lake owing to a
dam, and on my return journey, two weeks later, there was not a living
fish to be seen, the pools being filled with dead bodies, and the awful
stench of the river rising to heaven.
It seemed to me a terrible waste that all these fish should die, but
such is the fact, and it must be fortunate that they do not feed on
their way or they would clean out a river like an army of locusts. What
becomes of the trout during these invasions presents a curious problem,
for the condition of the stinking river would seem sufficient to kill
them unless they can escape to some lake. Possibly the trout flee
upwards ahead of the serried ranks of the invaders with the view also of
feeding on their eggs when they reach the spawning grounds. I have seen
the bottoms of good trout pools black with salmon in certain rivers and
have been told it was useless to fish them, and this fact I also
verified; while other pools higher up and not yet invaded gave good
fishing.
These two instances will give some idea of the extraordinary invasions
by the salmon of the British Columbia rivers as it presents itself in
the Thompson district.
At the coast the migration begins with the large spring salmon, the
quinnat, which seem to appear off the mouth of the Fraser in January,
and run up the rivers during April, May, and June before the sockeyes
make their appearance, but never in such large numbers as the latter.
Their migration is more like that of the Atlantic fish, which they also
resemble in point of size. They are not so much used by the canneries,
whose season does not begin till July, and are only caught for the local
market, and by trolling with rod and line; these are the fish which
chiefly provide sport in the tidal waters of British Columbia.
As has been said they run up to 80lb. and over, and resemble our own
salmon in general appearance, though they are not of such a bright
silver colour, and are rather more heavy looking. The most obvious point
of distinction is the large size of the anal fin and tail, which contain
a great many more rays than those of our own trout and salmon. This
point of distinction is common to all the five species of the Pacific
coast salmon, and distinguishes them from the rainbow and steel-head,
which are true salmonidae. The flesh, especially in spring, is excellent
eating, but possibly not quite so delicate as the Atlantic fish, and not
so highly esteemed. Perhaps this is partly owing to the fact that salmon
is so common and cheap, for a large fish can often be bought for a
shilling or half a crown.
I have seen an occasional large fish move in the Thompson early in July,
but have never noticed them in the Kamloops Lake in any large numbers,
though doubtless a certain proportion does come there. It would appear
as if the large size and strength of this fish enables it to run earlier
in the year and to stem the rivers when swollen by the melting snow in
May and June; while the smaller sockeye times its appearance to coincide
with the fall of the big rivers in July. It can hardly be a fact that
the quinnat never returns to the sea, for if that were invariably the
case, how could the large fish of 80lb., which must be of considerable
age, be accounted for? It would not be difficult for a fish to return
from a large lake like the Harrison, which is only some 50 miles or so
from the Fraser mouth. It may be that if these fish get far up the
Fraser, perhaps 500 miles or more from salt water, they may not have
strength to return. Jordan says the spring fish run over 2000 miles in
some rivers. But from spawning-grounds only distant a few miles they can
easily return, as could also the smaller species, unless, which seems
very unlikely, the act of procreation is fatal in itself. Still, the
fact remains that I have never seen a kelt in British Columbia nor heard
of one, nor does there seem to be any return stream of migration in
winter or early spring, a feature which could not escape notice if it
occurred to any considerable extent. Therefore if any fish return it
must be only a few scattered individuals, not one in a million of the
swarms seen passing upwards.
The Indians along the Fraser catch these fish by standing on certain
rocks with a large dip-net, by which they catch a considerable number as
the fish pass upwards.
In the first week of July or thereabouts the silver and blue-back salmon
appear, and the canneries at the Fraser mouth begin work. This is the
sockeye run, which is always very large, but varies in different years,
every fourth year being an extra large one. Drift-nets are employed by a
large number of boats, which may catch in one night thirty to eighty or
more fish, for which they get about 15 cents. apiece from the canneries.
The season lasts till about the end of August, when the run falls off,
and is succeeded by the run of the humpback and dog salmon, which are of
no commercial value. Indians, white men, and Japanese are employed, and
the mouth of the Fraser is a scene of great activity, while on the
American side large fish traps are employed in which many thousands of
salmon are caught at one haul. The following will give some idea of the
work of the canneries.:--
ANNUAL PACK FOR SIX YEARS.
1897 1,027,204 cases (48lb).
1898 492,657 " "
1899 765,517 " "
1900 606,530 " "
1901 1,236,156 " "
1902 625,982 " "
The first news of the approach of the sockeye is generally brought to
Vancouver or some other coast city by some sailing ship or steamer which
has encountered them in the straits of San Juan or the Gulf of Georgia.
Often strange stories are told of moving through a vast salmon army,
perhaps seven miles broad and of unknown length, all heading straight
for the Fraser's mouth, from their unknown feeding-grounds in the North
Pacific. Wild as some of these tales seem, yet they are more or less
true. For these immense shoals come through the San Juan Straits and
head northwards up the British Columbian coast towards Alaska, while
only a mere detachment enters the Fraser, a detachment of a few
millions. And also if it be true that none return, they can have no
leaders to show the way, but must retrace the route they took as smolts
on their way from the river to the ocean, impelled by the sexual
instinct to propagate the species. They appear to hang about the mouth
of the Fraser for a short time, then advance upwards as far as it is
possible to go, hundreds of miles into the interior, and up every stream
which will permit of their progress, where they eventually spawn and
die.
The silver salmon and blue-backs run in separate shoals, and their
respective names show the difference between them. Very handsome fish
are they in spring, of a bright silver hue resembling a fresh run
grilse, and about seven or eight pounds in weight. But they quickly
become red, and in the upper waters of the rivers often present a far
from healthy appearance, showing visible traces of their struggles with
the rocks and whirlpools encountered in their ascent. This well-known
red appearance is not, however, altogether due to the effects of the
fresh water, for straggling late bands are described as entering through
the Straits of San Juan in the autumn which are almost as red as their
earlier fellows at that time in the upper waters of the Fraser.
On the heels of the sockeye come the humpback and the dog salmon, about
the same in size, and fine silvery fish before the breeding season sets
in. But it is late in the autumn when they arrive, and their flesh is
white and does not meet the demands of the market. The so-called hump is
only present in the breeding season.
An attempt was made to can and sell them as white salmon, but without
success; though recently a market has been found in Japan, whither they
are sent in the dried form. Japan, by the way, possesses a sixth species
of _Oncorhynchus_, the masu, a fish resembling the humpback, but this is
not known to British Columbian waters.
Although an immense toll is taken by the canneries, yet the supply of
fish still continues, assisted by the hatcheries which have been
supplied by the Government of Canada, by whose aid it is hoped that the
effects of over-fishing will be counteracted. For this hope there is
considerable ground, as the fishing on the Columbia River has been
restored by this means to something of its former condition.