Opening day of fishing season has come and gone, along with most of the hoopala that typically accompanies this annual event. Things have settled down to the point where one can go about one’s business without having to deal with the repetitious questions: “have you been out yet?, how are they bite-in?, caught any big ones?, been fishin?”, etc., etc.
One refrain that still persists is the old saw about going out to “catch some natives.” The speaker has usually reverted, by this time, to some sort of euphoric reverie that includes fishing trips with his grandfather or accounts of endless days of hoisting “speckled beauties.” Every time I hear this I quickly have to remind myself that the speaker is not out of Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness,” or a former Indian fighter. He (or she) is simply repeating the old mantra that came down to us from the time, many (almost hundreds of years) ago when the only trout to be caught were the original, indigenous, brook trout of post-colonial days.
These, then, became the “native” trout to anglers of the Northeastern states and the headwaters streams of the Appalachian Mountains. All of the early accounts of trout fishing in the literature of the day were about brook trout. They were abundant, good eating, not difficult to catch and were distinguished by markings and coloration like no other member of the European trout species. No wonder they became the darlings of the angling world of our colonial forefathers.
These trout, alas, are long gone. No longer do we have the habitat to support such numbers and growth rates, even here in the headwater streams of isolated Potter County. The fish referred to as “natives” were unique. Such fish had never seen a hook, a tin can, a candy wrapper; had never had to contend with acid mine waste, sawdust, logging roads, dams, nets, cows and dynamite, and all of the other trappings of an industrial society hell bent on wrestling every last dollar from its extractable resources.
Here in Potter County, the lumber industry, reaching into every small hollow and headwater stand, converted cold, clear deep brooks and runs into squalid, silted and barren mud holes, devoid of shade and cover. During spring thaw, the release of thousands of logs from splash dams completely wiped out whole watersheds in an orgy of destruction. Gone was the deep humus soil that preserved ground water, gone were the huge hemlocks and white pine that provided shade, gone was the whole system of stream habitat that sustained large populations of robust brook trout. Gone, too, was the sport of fishing for the average person. Only the wealthy, the very same captains of industry that brought about the devastation, could afford to search out and travel to the few remaining wilderness areas of the East where “natives” still survived. And then write about it in periodicals.
Probably at least a century has gone by since the last of the original, “native” brook trout have been present in our waters. It is highly unlikely that there is any stream or brook in the county that still harbors any undiluted descendants of the original stock. The establishment of the Fish Commission in the last years of the 19th century and the development of the hatchery industry in the first half of the 20th set the course for all time. It is reasonable to assume that as many as a half-billion trout have been stocked in Pennsylvania waters since the early years of the last century.
Initially, these were mostly brook trout. It wasn’t until 1931 that the Fish Commission stopped the practice of sending out fingerlings on application and started doing the stocking itself with Fish Commission personnel. Trout eggs were acquired from various sources; no attempt was made to salvage brood stock from the indigenous population. As a fledging state agency, barely able to stay ahead of polluters, poachers and a public resistant to “government interference,” it had neither the scientific knowledge nor the resources to worry much about preserving an indigenous population. Then, as now, it was mainly to get fish into the stream in sufficient numbers so that it could justify charging for a license ($1.00 in 1922).
The up shot of all of this is that over time the whole genetic make up of brook trout has shifted towards fast maturing, easy to raise, heavy body conformation stocks intended for waters where ‘put and take’ was the norm. Most of these could not survive for more than two or three years. Thus the cycle repeated itself…endlessly in every watershed over almost a century. In some ways the hatchery programs complimented the environmental issues because the streams would never be the same as they were before the lumbering days, so why worry about the old time “natives.” Just be thankful that you have the smallish, easier to catch hatchery brookie.
Where do we stand today. A few weeks ago Sarah Gilliland, The Enterprise Editor’s mother, caught a very nice large brook trout on opening day. The photo shows a fish measuring 19 inches. The editor suggests, probably correctly, that “it had not been stocked recently, but rather had overwintered in the small tributary of the Genesee River.” He does not even hint that it might be an old time “native.” Also, correctly. A brook trout that long is probably 7 or more likely, 8 years old. This is very old for any trout, especially a brook trout. I’d suggest that it might be an old hatchery breeder released into the Genesee and that it had made its way into Ellisburg Creek in time to meet up with “Toot.” Releasing clapped-out hatchery breeders is an accepted practice by the Commission. They invariably get their picture taken when caught by the lucky angler.
I know “Toot” well enough to be able to say that I doubt very much that she’ll sit around regaling her friends and family with a tale about how she caught a huge “native” on opening day in ’07!
Big brook trout? Yes. Big “native”? No.
"The
beginning of wisdom is
getting things by their right name."
Chinese Proverb
“Chronology and History,” Pennsylvania Fish & Boat Commission Website - http://sites.state.pa.us/PA_Exec/Fish_Boat/chrono.htm
Trout, Judith Stoltz and Judith Schnell, Stackpole Books, Harrisburg: 1991
Trout Biology, Bill Willers, Lyons & Burford, New York: 1991
