Now, Capitalize On Nature’S Assistance

Lonesome Larry is lonely no longer.

In 1991, the federal government declared the Snake River sockeye salmon in danger of extinction. In 1992, only one solitary sockeye survived the 900-mile swim from the Pacific Ocean to Redfish Lake, high in the mountains of south central Idaho. Biologists named him Larry, stuffed him and hung him on a wall. Using his sperm, they spawned a new batch of salmon, raised them in tanks lined with gravel and tried to teach the young fish how to avoid predators and find food. Then, in a last-ditch effort to restore the longest-traveling, highest-climbing sockeye run in North America, the biologists turned Larry’s progeny loose in lakes and streams of the Stanley Basin, 6,500 feet above sea level.

As the 1990s wore on the biologists continued their work, racing against time. When two female sockeye showed up one year, they viewed it as a bonanza. But results were discouraging. From the beginning of the decade through the end of last year, only 16 “wild” sockeye made it back to Redfish Lake. In 1998 there was one. In 1999 none.

Then, a turnaround!

This summer, an estimated 350 sockeye swam past Lower Granite Dam, the last of eight dams that Snake River salmon must pass on their way back home to spawn.

During the last several weeks, 222 sockeye salmon have arrived at Redfish Lake.

Today, those fish swim back and forth in tanks at the Sawtooth Hatchery, intensive care ward for the Northwest’s most endangered salmon run. Excited scientists, accustomed to dealing with just a few salmon a year, now are in a position to make a huge difference for the future of this species. They’ll use all their tactics, more than ever before. According to Idaho Fish & Game biologist Paul Kline, some of the adults will be released to spawn naturally in the high mountain lakes. Others will make it possible to plant fertilized eggs in boxes along the shore. Still others will be the parents of young salmon that will spend a year in captivity prior to release.

This remains an urgent exercise. No responsible voice could call the sockeye recovered on the basis of one encouraging year.

Still, this year’s sockeye returns, like the booming runs throughout the Columbia drainage, have created a crucial opportunity.

How did this happen? One large factor, ocean climate, has shifted in the salmon’s favor. Ocean climate runs in a 25-year cycle and for the past 25 years it was hostile to salmon. Now, evidence indicates the beginning of a cold-water cycle friendly to the fish.

Meanwhile, factors under human control also are changing. Ocean harvests, dams, hatcheries, logging, irrigated farming, sport fishing, salmon barging, predator control and dredging practices at the Columbia’s mouth all are undergoing important change in response to the things that scientists have learned.

Political debate, so far, has focused on dam breaching. That’s a mistake, and the breaching option, which would cost our region dearly and take years to implement, now sits on a shelf. Instead, voters concerned about the salmon ought to be asking politicians how generous they will be in funding the many other actions that will have an immediate effect on Lonesome Larry’s future: habitat and hatchery enhancements; harvest restrictions; and additional physical and operational modifications at the dams.

If we seize this moment, there’s hope. The sun is smiling over the Stanley Basin. And if you looked at Lonesome Larry, wherever his desiccated carcass now hangs, you might even imagine that his jagged old jaw is twisted into a grin.