Thursday, March 18, 2004
By Paul Queary, Associated Press
FORKS, Washington — The long-smoldering debate over whether fishers
should toss wild fish back into the water or take them home for
dinner has flared into a culture war on Washington's remote Olympic
Peninsula.
Last month's decision by state regulators to ban killing wild steelhead
has many locals seething. The mayor is threatening to sue. Area
merchants wonder whether fishers will stay away if they can't take
home a trophy. And Indian tribes worry the ban will worsen resentment
of their tribal fishing rights.
Wild fish advocates, meanwhile, argue that it's high time to protect
some of the last healthy runs of a treasured species. A ban is set
to take effect April 1, the heart of the season. It runs until March
31, 2006.
The steelhead, a variety of seagoing trout, is one of the world's
most sought-after game fish. Notoriously choosy about which flies
or lures they will take, the fish can offer a breathtaking fight
once hooked.
"A lot of people put steelhead above all other fish,"
said Bob Leland, who manages steelhead for the Washington Department
of Fish and Wildlife. "For many people this is their religion."
But steelhead have been hit hard in recent decades by habitat destruction
and overfishing. In the mid-1950s, sport fishers took more than
60,000 wild steelhead in Washington. In 2003, that number was 3,554,
according to the Wild Steelhead Coalition's review of Washington
Department of Fish and Wildlife data.
Hatchery-bred fish are still plentiful in many rivers, but native
steelhead thrive in only a handful of streams, mostly in Washington
northwesternmost corner such as the Hoh, the Sol Duc, and the Bogachiel,
where the protections of the Olympic National Park help protect
habitat.
But even here, the wild runs are well below their historic heights.
Conservationists fear a day when only hatchery fish — often scorned
as "clones" by purists — will swim these rivers.
"We need to be very conservation oriented, assuring that we
protect the fish first," said Dick Burge, the Wild Steelhead
Coalition's vice president for conservation.
The coalition argues that the state's policy of managing fish for
the maximum sustainable harvest pushes steelhead too hard, leaving
them vulnerable to poor ocean conditions, drought, and silt-choked
rivers.
So the coalition persuaded the Washington Fish and Wildlife Commission
to impose a two-year moratorium on killing wild steelhead anywhere
in the state, a ban that has many locals up in arms.
"We're talking about a decision made by a group of urban elitists
who want the Olympic Peninsula as their playground," said Nedra
Reed, the mayor of Forks, a beat-up timber town that looks to steelhead-related
tourism to ease some of the economic pain caused by logging cutbacks.
The new restriction applies to all steelhead without a missing
adipose fin and a scar. That marking is used to distinguish hatchery-reared
steelhead, which in most cases may be kept.
Reed is threatening to sue, arguing that the ban was improperly
railroaded through the process and isn't justified by science. She
notes the Fish and Wildlife Department's own biologists didn't recommend
the move.
Leland, the Fish and Wildlife manager, said the population can
support the current rules, which allow keeping one fish per day
for a total of five per year.
"The fish are replacing themselves," Leland said.
Peter Van Gytenbeek, the commissioner who proposed the ban, said
he believes Forks will prosper as fish populations rebound and draw
in affluent catch-and-release anglers from around the world.
The ban also has touched the always-raw nerve of tribal fishing
rights. About half the local steelhead harvest, both hatchery and
wild, winds up in the nets of the Quileute Indian Tribe, which uses
the fish for food and sells it to upscale markets and restaurants.
"With the tribes still netting the river, you're cutting off
your little toe because your arm hurts," said Bob Gooding,
owner of Olympic Sporting Goods, who was chewing over the decision
in his store on a recent slow weekday.
Mel Moon, the tribe's director of natural resources, worries about
increased resentment of Indian fishers and the possibility that
the ban might result in too many fish competing for prime spawning
grounds.
Fishing guide Mike Price is in favor of the ban. He's been fishing
the local rivers for decades and remembers when the wild fish ran
in the fall and winter, not just the spring.
"They were big, beautiful fish," Price said. "Those
fish are gone."
Source: Associated Press |