Signs of hope and despair for N.B. salmon population
Healthy spawning scene belies record-low return numbers
Atlantic salmon returns were at their lowest level ever this year, say researchers, who are nevertheless refusing to give up hope that the species can rebound.
"The times have never been this dire," said Tommi Linnansaari, a biology professor at the University of New Brunswick in Fredericton whose research laboratory almost exclusively studies Atlantic salmon.
At the protection barrier on the Dungarvon River, a tributary in the upper part of the Miramichi watershed, for example, only 45 adult salmon had been counted as of Oct. 15, according to data from Fisheries and Oceans Canada.
That compares to 65 last year, 95 in 2022 and an average of more than 200 for the years 2011 to 2015.
Similarly, at a barrier on the Northwest Miramichi, only 39 adult salmon were counted as of Oct. 15, down from 50 last year, 100 in 2022, and an average of 169 for the years 2011 to 2015.
At the Mactaquac Dam on the St. John River, 50 fish were counted as of Oct. 31. In the early 1980s, people there handled 30,000, said Linnansaari.
"It's unbelievable," he said.
Linnansaari has not seen figures for the Restigouche or Nepisiguit, but said the pattern was the same.
While barrier counts don't represent total returns, they are an indicator of them, said the biologist.
This year, overall returns were at a record low across the range of Atlantic salmon, said Carole-Anne Gillis, research director at the Gespe'gewa'gi Institute of Natural Understanding, based in Listuguj, Que.
The official numbers from Fisheries and Oceans Canada aren't expected until this winter, but that assessment is based on counts done by different agencies during summer and early fall by various means, including snorkeling or canoeing entire river systems and tallying up fish in pools, she said.
Some agencies reported they met conservation targets, but just barely, while others observed returns below 50 per cent of what's needed for population sustainability, said Gillis.
"Every red flag is up everywhere in New Brunswick in terms of salmon population," said Linnansaari.
Serious conservation action will be needed by all groups, levels of government and First Nations, he said.
"Everybody will really need to take this seriously because we are now at the brink of losing the salmon in our province," said Linnansaari.
"We're never going to give up hope, but the less fish you have, the incrementally more difficult the recovery will be."
Video captured recently on the Restigouche River is an encouraging sign to some.
It was mid-October and the tourists were gone, leaving the salmon peace and quiet for spawning, said Jonathan Falle.
He recorded a bird's-eye view of about a dozen female salmon, digging nests and laying eggs, and male salmon fertilizing them, in a spawning bed near the Rafting Grounds, about 20 kilometres upriver from Campbellton.
"When I could see there was that much disturbance in the gravel, I knew there was a lot of fish," said Falle, a fifth-generation salmon fishing guide, who lives on the Quebec side of the river in Runnymede.
"When I was a kid my grandfather brought me out — in a boat or off the shore. It was always something I was fascinated about. I always was on the river," said Falle.
For the past couple of years, he's used a drone to film salmon spawning and shares his videos on social media.
"It's something that not everybody can see — unless you watch the Discovery channel or something. Most people don't even know it goes on because — October, there's nobody on the river."
Gillis saw Falle's recent video and commented that it was good to see some fish spawning.
"It gives us hope to see there's still a generation that's coming," she said.
Salmon can be seen using their tails and the river flow to move sediment and create a little dip for their eggs, she noted.
They turn onto their sides while doing this, showing a bit of their light-coloured bellies.
Male salmon jockey for position or sneak in to fertilize the eggs.
"It is fascinating to see them invest so much energy," said Gillis.
The eggs that are fertilized have to develop into fry, then parr and smolt stages, leave the river and spend at least a couple of years at sea, and survive numerous predators and other threats, before they can return as an adult.
Gillis is fascinated by the fact that salmon often come back and spawn exactly where they were born.
"They know the conditions there are OK," she said.
Salmon have been observed spawning at the site where Falle recorded his video for centuries, said Gillis.
Ideal sites have water about knee deep moving fast enough not to freeze, and gravel that is grape- or fist-size, with low siltation, so the eggs can fill the spaces between the rocks and get oxygen, said Linnansaari.
Perfect spawning beds still exist on the Restigouche, the Miramichi, the Nepisiguit and many other rivers, including the headwaters of the St. John River system, he said.
Gillis and her colleagues were able to go out to the spawning bed documented by Falle and map every rock on the river bottom with sub-centimetre precision, she said.
They plan to do follow up monitoring next summer.
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