As Long as the River Runs - Dec 24 2021

 

As Long as the River Runs

Dec 24 2021

In the wake of the flood.

Where the river spilled over its banks

and filled a shallow depression

in the waterlogged land,

trapping desperate fish

in a quickly draining lake.

Where First Nations fishers

  —  descendants of people

who have survived in this place

since the last ice age ended  —

scoured it with nets;

but instead of catching, gutting, beheading

handled them gently,

preparing to restore them

to their native spawning grounds.

An act of compassion

from fellow sufferers

in the year of the flood.

But also stewardship

and enlightened self-interest;

gratification deferred

with an eye to the future

in a virtuous circle of grace.

Big succulent salmon

hardened by their upstream swim.

But also the worse for wear,

the rapid ageing

that will result in death

soon after they spawn.

Which is an act of restoration as well,

their decomposing bodies

enriching the waters

from which their offspring emerge.

Fish, who also sacrifice for the future;

the cycle of life

a virtuous circle.

Big men,

with calloused hands and wind-burned faces

in bright yellow slickers and suspendered waders

sloshing through the turbid water

doggedly dragging

heavy nets.

Hard men, raised to be stoic,

their impassive faces

betraying little emotion.

I watch one of them gentle

a big muscular fish

in his sure thick hands,

then ferry it into an eddy

of the rain-swollen torrent;

silver scales glistening

intricate gills panting

tail thrashing frantically.

Like a cannon, it shot from his grip

infallibly upstream,

the smell of the place

that will imprint just the same

on subsequent generations,

the ancestral knowledge

of thousands of years

guiding it unerringly home.

In an unbroken line,

as long as the river runs clean

and the virtuous circle persists.

This poem was inspired by an article that appeared in today's paper. I've included it below.

What first struck me was the inversion of expected roles: fishermen stewarding fish instead of harvesting them.

But it also illuminates a sustainable approach to life, as well as a sense of continuity with the past and obligation to the future.

It was only as I was writing the poem that the parallel struck me: how the fish also honour their forebears, in a sense, by finding their way from the open ocean back to the headwaters of a small remote river; the same place their ancestors have spawned for generation after generation. And then how they serve the future; but instead of conserving resources, sacrificing themselves to give their offspring a head-start in life.

Spellcheck keeps flagging suspendered. But I can't part with the word. I like neologisms in my poetry: not only that they ask the reader to engage, but that they immediately reward her with something fresh. Especially when a single word can so neatly call up an image.

First Nation aims to rescue stranded salmon

• The Globe and Mail (Ontario Edition)

• 24 Dec 2021

• WENDY STUECK

PACIFIC SALMON FOUNDATIO

Rescue crew members pull a net through a flooded field in Abbotsford, B.C. The Pacific Salmon Foundation said salmon have been spotted in ditches and swimming across streets.

As mopping up from B.C.’s extensive flooding in November continues, Sumas First Nation members and other helpers are hauling nets through soggy fields in the hopes of rescuing salmon that were swept off course on their way to spawning grounds.

To date, they’ve collected just a few dozen fish, but volunteers hope their efforts will make a difference by allowing those rescued fish to spawn, improving the odds for species whose numbers were already in decline.

“It does make you wonder, when do you say, ‘Enough is enough, we did what we could,’ ” Murray Ned, executive director of the Lower Fraser Fisheries Alliance, said Thursday in an interview.

“But considering the salmon crisis … to get them back to their spawning grounds is extremely important and just allows for a little peace of mind.”

Rescue crews have been looking for fish, including coho salmon, that were flooded out of the Sumas River, a tributary of the Fraser River system, when waters rose last month.

The region was devastated by heavy rains, which flooded farms and fields, forced hundreds of people to evacuate from their homes and damaged roads and dikes.

As waters receded and the extent of the damage began to be tallied, Mr. Ned and others were thinking about fish. Wild salmon were facing challenges in British Columbia before the floods, with populations of several species dwindling to critical levels over the past few decades. Worries intensified with the Big Bar landslide. Reported to authorities in June, 2019, it blocked a section of the Fraser River near Big Bar, north of Lillooet, creating a barrier for migrating wild salmon and worsening the outlook for future runs.

An emergency response involving First Nations and the provincial and federal governments helped restore fish passage through Big Bar, but the long-term effect of the slide is still being assessed.

This month, Mr. Ned, who’s also an elected councillor with the Sumas First Nation, has been helping to co-ordinate fish rescue crews with the Pacific Salmon Foundation. The foundation worked with the Lower Fraser Fisheries Alliance and the Sto:lo and Sumas nations to launch the effort.

The mission involved slow, heavy work and limited returns. Sometimes, a whole pool would be dragged with nets without a single fish turning up. But then, crews would net three or four healthy-looking salmon, including females that were heavy with eggs and yet to spawn.

“When there’s up to 2,000 eggs in each of these females … that starts to translate into something substantive at least,” Mr. Ned said.

Rescued coho were dumped flopping into coolers and transported by truck to the nearby river and released.

In a statement Wednesday, the Pacific Salmon Foundation said salmon have been spotted in ditches, fields and swimming across streets and in backyards.

As well as immediate rescue efforts for stranded fish, the foundation called for monitoring water quality for potential contaminants, repairing habitat that is vulnerable to heavy rain or snow and adapting “nature-based solutions,” such as sloughs and side channels that are designed to accommodate high water flows.