Page 51 - Flathead Beacon // 1.7.15

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EXPLORE
By DILLON TABISH of the Beacon
Explore the unique identity of Gla- cier National Park in winter with rang- er-led snowshoe hikes beginning this weekend.
The National Park Service is offering free winter snowshoe walks every Satur- day and Sunday at 10:30 a.m. and 2 p.m. beginning Jan. 10, which is Winter Trails Day, a national celebration of adventur- ing outdoors. The snowshoe walks will continue through Sunday, March 22.
The public is invited to join rangers on two-hour snowshoe excursions into the park’s winter environment. Par- ticipants are encouraged to bring snow- shoes or they are available to rent for a nominal fee at the Apgar Visitor Center. Participants should wear sturdy win- ter boots, dress in layers for a variety of winter conditions, and bring water and snacks.
This year, the walks will begin and conclude at the relocated Apgar Visi- tor Center. There is no group size limit and reservations are not accepted. The snowshoe walks are suitable for vary- ing ages and abilities, but are not recom- mended for children under age 6.
The snowshoe walks are presented in partnership with the Glacier Nation- al Park Conservancy. The Conservancy is a private nonprofit organization and the official nonprofit fundraising part- ner of Glacier National Park, providing support for preservation, education, and research through philanthropy and out- reach.
Park entrance fees are required.
OUT OF BOUNDS
OUTDOORS JANUARY 7, 2015 | 51 Snowshoe in Glacier National Park
Snowshoers enjoy a hike in the Flathead Valley. GREG LINDSTROM | FLATHEAD BEACON Rob Breeding
Happy Hatchery Fish
ATELEVISION SHOW I WAS watching the other day got me thinking about fish. Hatchery fish. Bad fish. At least that’s the general attitude among anglers these days.
The program was about food, and in this case the producers were trying to close the circle and give viewers a lit- tle background about where their food comes from. In this case it was salmon, so the host found himself in a fish hatch- ery, harvesting roe and milt from chum salmon to spawn the next generation in five gallon buckets. It’s a process record- ed many times over, but since this was a food show, the host had a taste of his handiwork.
The not-quite-ripe eggs that were still held together by a thin membrane, also known as a skein, were fresh tasting and delicious. But the fully ripe eggs that poured out of hens when the hatchery workers sliced open their bellies not so much, at least so said the host.
We’ve come a long way when it comes to hatchery fish. Hatcheries were
once touted as solutions to all that ailed our fisheries. Building a dam that will block salmon from historic spawning grounds? No problem, include a hatchery and all will be forgiven. Fishing pressure heavier than a particular river can han- dle? That’s nothing that can’t be fixed by a quick infusion from the stock truck.
We long ago learned hatcheries were no magic bullet. Montana hasn’t stocked trout in its rivers since 1974 as state bi- ologists led by Dick Vincent realized ag- gressive hatchery fish crowded out wild trout. The result was declining wild fish populations, but the less hardy stocked fish didn’t make up the difference. These hatchery mutants didn’t have the in- stincts needed to survive outside the concrete runway.
Some non-fishing friends look at me as if I’m slightly crazy when I explain that almost all the trout I catch go back. In one sense they are right: fishing is ul- timately about adding a little protein to your diet. By that standard, catch-and- release makes no sense.
Protein on the table is not the only standard by which we measure fishing, however. Many fly fishers such as my- self have a peculiar preoccupation with trout rivers and their inhabitants. We obsess over wild trout and aquatic in- sects and all the other pieces that make up a healthy ecosystem. Because of this obsession we are happiest catching wild trout no matter that a well-stocked lake or pond a few minutes away may provide more action and bigger fish.
Remembering that initial rationale for releasing hatchery fish in our rivers, we realize that walking away from the stream each day with a creel heavy from a limit will soon leave even the healthiest of wild trout rivers fishless. So we prac- tice catch-and-release. Some misguided folk even suggest catch-and-release is somehow more noble, but I’m skeptical. We are motivated by the selfish desire to catch wild trout. Fortunately, it’s the pursuit of this selfish obsession that fu- els much of the conservation work in riv- ers across the West.
There’s nothing wrong with hatch- ery fish, in the right place at least. All one needs to do is drive over the moun- tains to the Blackfeet Reservation to be reminded of that. Head over, drill a few holes, and with any luck you’ll soon be into some of the best ice fishing for trout on the planet. But Rez fishing is almost entirely the result of hatcheries, as those Blackfeet prairie lakes are ridiculously productive places to grow trout, but lack the necessary tributary stream to pro- vide spawning habitat.
One should never feel even the slight- est remorse about filling a creel on a put- grow-and-take fishery. Maybe we should always feel some remorse when we kill our food, but, in this case, there shouldn’t be any conservation-related guilt.
I like wild trout, and I’m glad that fishery managers are increasingly fol- lowing Montana’s lead by not fouling suitable riverine habitat with hatchery fish. There’s a time and place for the hatchery, but a pristine trout stream isn’t that place.