{"id":21164,"date":"2023-05-16T20:19:05","date_gmt":"2023-05-16T20:19:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wildsalmoncenter.org\/?p=21164"},"modified":"2026-04-06T18:49:20","modified_gmt":"2026-04-06T18:49:20","slug":"heart-of-steel-part-ii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wildsalmoncenter.org\/2023\/05\/16\/heart-of-steel-part-ii\/","title":{"rendered":"Heart of Steel | Part 2"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Wellspring of a species<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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A steelhead origin story.<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
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There\u2019s a fish in Oregon\u2019s Rogue River, no bigger than your forearm. It\u2019s bright silver with a rounded jaw, big-eyed and dappled with black spots.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In fish years, it\u2019s barely a teenager\u2014a \u201chalf-pounder,\u201d so-called for reasons you can guess. And like all salmonids of the species Oncorhynchus mykiss<\/em>, this one has a secret life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our half-pounder has been here for months, hanging out with younger, smaller rainbow trout that haven\u2019t yet seen the ocean\u2014and may not ever. Some battle-hardened adults are also here: large, pink-cheeked, returned from years at sea. They\u2019re not eating, just holding: waiting for their moment to spawn.<\/p>\n\n\n

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A half-pounder’s early return freshwater is one example of the rich diversity of decisions that steelhead make as individuals. (PC: Toz Soto)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Among the young smolts and wizened elders, the half-pounder is something else<\/strong>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Technically, it\u2019s a steelhead\u2014because it did take the ocean plunge that triggers a rainbow trout\u2019s amazing transformation. Its gills and kidneys can now process saltwater. It has tasted squid and shrimp. But after three to five months, the half-pounder came back, as if for a gap year.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think steelhead might be the most complex of all salmonids,\u201d says Wild Salmon Center Polsky Research Fellow Dr. Tasha Thompson<\/a>, a genetic scientist who lives one large watershed north of the Rogue. \u201cThe sheer diversity of decisions that steelhead make on an individual level\u2014it shows us how little we still know about their inner life, what drives them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Historically, steelhead claimed rivers from Baja California, north to Alaska and across to Western Kamchatka. Across that range, their life path varies dramatically\u2014in years spent in freshwater and at sea, in whether they spawn once, twice, or even four times<\/strong>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cThe sheer diversity of decisions that steelhead make on an individual level\u2014it shows us how little we still know about their inner life, what drives them.\u201d<\/p>\nWild Salmon Center Polsky Research Fellow Dr. Tasha Thompson<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n

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The Klamath is one of only three North American rivers where the half-pounder life history is found. (PC: Ken Morrish.)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

But half-pounders are commonly found in just three rivers in North America: the Rogue, Klamath, and Eel, all in or near the Klamath-Siskiyou, a steep mountain region straddling the Oregon\/California border. Data suggests that smaller smolts tend to be the ones who dip back early to freshwater. Maybe those ocean months were rough. Maybe our half-pounder hoped to be the big fish on campus. Right now, it isn\u2019t revealing its secrets. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

What we do know is that on the Rogue, Klamath, and Eel, half-pounders are a good example of the next-level biodiversity found in these steelhead rivers. That, in fact, could be the real story<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor humans, we see the greatest genetic diversity in Africa, where our species has its origins,\u201d Dr. Thompson says. \u201cThe genetic hotspot for steelhead is California, in the southern part of their range today. That\u2019s why it\u2019s thought that this area is their ancestral home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cThe genetic hotspot for steelhead is California. That’s why it\u2019s thought that this area is their ancestral home.\u201d<\/p>\nWSC Polsky Research Fellow Dr. Tasha Thompson<\/em><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Half-pounders don\u2019t exist in the Umpqua Basin, where Dr. Thompson lives. Here, wild summer steelhead are the big attraction, pooling in cold springs and tributaries, casually eluding hopeful anglers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dr. Thompson spends long days tracking these fish on the North Umpqua. But usually, nights are better.<\/p>\n\n\n

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WSC Polsky Research Fellow Dr. Tasha Thompson and her partner, Dr. Mike Miller, on the banks of the North Umpqua River. (Video still from The<\/em> Lost Salmon<\/em><\/a> courtesy Jason Hartwick, Swiftwater Films.)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u201cAt night, they\u2019re kind of sleepy, and come out onto the gravel,\u201d she says. \u201dI\u2019ll sit there in the dark, with a headlamp, in a little pool of light. It\u2019s a whole different world. I\u2019ll hear all these sounds. There are crawdads and salamanders. I\u2019ve been growled at\u2014by what, I\u2019m not sure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

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North Umpqua summer steelhead can hold for months in cold springs and tributaries. (PC: Ken Morrish.)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

In the world of salmon conservation, Dr. Thompson is among a select group of leading scientists (a surprising number here, between the North Umpqua and Eel) that also take it to the next level<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 2017, she was part of a team that discovered the specific gene<\/a> responsible for run timing in both steelhead and Chinook salmon: a finding that\u2019s now informing persuasive new arguments for federal protections<\/a>. Then, in 2018, her groundbreaking research<\/a> revealed that the loss of one key gene factored into the fast decline of spring Chinook in Oregon\u2019s Upper Rogue River<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe know that the reason why salmon and steelhead have been so successful is their ability to adapt,\u201d Dr. Thompson says. \u201cThey have a portfolio of strategies honed over millions of years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

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Juvenile steelhead. (PC: John McMillan.)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Steelhead, in particular, can pivot on a dime: darting out to sea or not at all, extending their ocean adventures by years, straying to new spawning grounds or even entirely different rivers<\/strong>. Female steelhead can spawn with a fierce, fanged-out 30-pound buck, or with a freshwater rainbow trout not much older than our half-pounder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re smart, and very curious,\u201d Dr. Thompson says. \u201cAnd they\u2019re powerful, like a Formula One race car. You can watch them swim up to a 10-foot waterfall, raise their head, and take a test jump. And if it doesn\u2019t work, they try something else.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Such powerhouse moves go way back. As a species, steelhead bank on a wealth of behavioral and physiological options honed and cached since at least the Miocene Era, 10 million years ago.<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cSteelhead are powerful, like a Formula One race car. You can watch them swim up to a 10-foot waterfall, raise their head, and take a test jump. And if it doesn\u2019t work, they try something else.\u201d<\/p>\nWSC Polsky Research Fellow Dr. Tasha Thompson<\/em><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n

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Steelhead bank on a wealth of behavioral and physiological options honed and cached since the Miocene Era, 10 million years ago.  (PC: Pat Clayton)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

If one approach doesn’t cut it, steelhead find a different line. If a barrier in a river proves insurmountable, that run might evolve to return when it is passable. If a young smolt meets rough seas, it can head back to freshwater early, and try its luck.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Between 1948 and 2020, wild winter steelhead declined sharply across Washington’s Olympic Peninsula. For the larger story of OP steelhead, read Heart of Steel Part I: Steelhead Season<\/a>.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The problem? In many steelhead rivers, human interference and climate change are now drawing down these genetic reserves faster than steelhead can adapt<\/strong>. Historically, West Coast fisheries managers just haven\u2019t had the kind of reliable long-term data that clearly illuminates a trend. But in recent years, new research from Wild Salmon Center scientists and others shows that steelhead are declining fast\u2014and have been for decades<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In British Columbia, new data on vulnerable steelhead stocks is fueling a campaign to ban marine fish farms<\/a> and reform mixed-stock fisheries. In the Olympic Peninsula, steelhead are now at a fraction of their historical abundance<\/a>. Further south, from the Columbia River to Southern California, many steelhead runs are listed as endangered. And where recreational steelhead fisheries still exist, closures are now alarmingly routine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve known for a while that steelhead are in trouble,\u201d Dr. Thompson says. \u201cBut it\u2019s only recently that we\u2019re learning what makes them tick\u2014and how to use that information to drive policy and restoration work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To really understand the story of steelhead, Dr. Thompson says, we need to go back to the beginning<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cWe\u2019ve known for a while that steelhead are in trouble. But it\u2019s only recently that we\u2019re learning what makes them tick.”<\/p>\nWSC Polsky Research Fellow Dr. Tasha Thompson<\/em><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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The Eel River, in Northern California, is steep and redwood-shaded, a study in turquoise and chert. Over millennia, ice and water carved its upper reaches into a wonderland of steep canyons and boulders as large as houses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Today, the Eel River basin is dry and hot. Summers can be blistering: not where you\u2019d guess that coldwater O. mykiss<\/em> would thrive. But as we\u2019ve mentioned, steelhead are adaptable<\/strong>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Samantha Kannry and colleague on a summer steelhead survey of the Eel River in Northern California. (PC: Shaun Thompson.)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe know that steelhead successfully made use of these particular circumstances for millions of years,\u201d says Samantha Kannry, an Arcata-based fisheries biologist with the Native Fish Society. \u201cIt\u2019s thought that in precolonial times, you could have seen maybe a million salmon and steelhead in the Eel.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kannry has lived here in Humboldt County for the past 14 years. She’s an expert on Eel River steelhead<\/a>. And it’s true\u2014she lives to swim with the fishes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cWe know that steelhead successfully made use of these particular circumstances for millions of years.\u201d <\/p>\nSamantha Kannry, fisheries biologist with the Native Fish Society<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn a deep, crystal-clear cold pool on a hot day, you\u2019ll get used to seeing juvenile trout,\u201d she says. \u201cBut then you see these giant adults, jumping a little bit, but mostly just hunkering down and waiting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

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For millions of years, steelhead have relied on cold water pools and upwellings in the tributaries and upper reaches of the Eel. (PC: Shaun Thompson.)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

This is a trick that all salmonids learn, young and old: to nose out a river\u2019s coldest water and hold there till it\u2019s time to hopscotch higher, or flow down toward the ocean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For millennia, a combination of spring snowmelt and complex geography have made the Eel particularly hospitable for steelhead<\/strong>. Winter steelhead show up as early as late fall\u2014spawning within weeks and often returning to the ocean. Summer steelhead, arriving with the spring rains, traditionally climb higher into the Eel\u2019s upper reaches and cold pools, waiting out hot summer months before spawning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Eel’s long hospitality also owes something to the fens near the Van Duzen River, an Eel tributary only accessible to summer steelhead<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fens are ancient sponges, mires of waterlogged organic material that often connect with other waterways through underground seeps. In the case of the Van Duzen, they\u2019ve likely provided the river with reliable cold water pockets for millennia. How long, Kannry can\u2019t say for sure\u2014fens can take tens of thousands of years to form. But she does know that a small crew of humans can chop one up and haul it away in days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fens are mostly sphagnum, or peat moss: perhaps the world\u2019s most coveted potting soil. For less-than-ethical marijuana growers in Humboldt County, the lure of this black gold has proven irresistible. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe think that more than 90 percent of the fens on the north side of the mountain have been illegally mined,\u201d Kannry says. \u201cSo in a relatively short period of time, we\u2019ve made what was an evolutionarily advantageous place somewhere that\u2019s now very hard for steelhead to live.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These days, steelhead\u2014summer in particular\u2014are struggling throughout the Eel. The river’s once-heavy spring snowmelt is now disappearing. The Van Duzen\u2019s unique summer run is near extirpation<\/strong>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

According to Kannry, the reasons for this decline are legion, from the loss of the fens to heavy logging, cattle grazing, road building, and other human interventions. The dams aren\u2019t helping, either; for more than a century, the Scott and Cape Horn dams have cut off hundreds of miles of potential steelhead spawning habitat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cIn a relatively short period of time, we\u2019ve made what was an evolutionarily advantageous place somewhere that\u2019s now very hard for steelhead to live.\u201d<\/p>\nSamantha Kannry, fisheries biologist with the Native Fish Society<\/em><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

It bothers her, the huge and often unacknowledged costs of human self-interest. Kannry wishes more people saw this fish the way she does: an ancient mariner of sagas, an athlete that can leap up churning cascades, a superhero that can control its own metabolism, sometimes fasting for many months before spawning. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But there are still reasons to hope that this region can remain a wellspring for the species<\/strong>. With a 2021 state move to list Northern California summer steelhead as endangered<\/a>, more funding is now available for habitat restoration, fish passage improvements, and preservation of key landscapes like the fens. There\u2019s also growing momentum across the West to remove problematic dams<\/a>: aging structures that often need costly repairs, provide diminishing value to human communities, or\u2014the case of the Eel\u2019s dams\u2014both.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another reason to hope is the growing scientific community backing the kind of research and data that fisheries managers so urgently need<\/strong>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dr. Thompson, Kannry\u2019s former lab partner at the University of California at Davis, is currently working on an ambitious genomic map spanning the entire range of steelhead. No resource like it yet exists. When released to the public, it could be a game-changer for understanding\u2014and recovering\u2014the species.<\/p>\n\n\n

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For Dr. Tasha Thompson, science is key for unlocking answers about coldwater fish\u2014from spring Chinook to steelhead. (Video still from The<\/em> Lost Salmon<\/em><\/a> courtesy Jason Hartwick, Swiftwater Films)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u201cTasha once told me how much she loves studying genetics and seeing the science support what Tribes and First Nations have known for a long time<\/a>,\u201d Kannry says. \u201cSteelhead are amazing. They literally bring life to the rock. What\u2019s most important to me is getting that across to people.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Consider, she says: we have no idea what life path our half-pounder will take: when and why it will again head to sea, where it will journey. What it will see. All we really know, Kannry says, is that journey\u2019s end will be one of the world\u2019s most beautiful places.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Wouldn\u2019t you want to be in on that secret?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cSteelhead literally bring life to the rock. What\u2019s most important to me is getting that across to people.\u201d <\/p>\nSamantha Kannry, fisheries biologist with the Native Fish Society<\/em><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n

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PC: Alamy<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
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