Of course, the biggest contributor to my premature fishing prowess wasn’t my heredity or the Saturday-morning tutorials. It was that I grew up amid some of the best freshwater fishing in the world. I’m a Montanan, and proud of it, despite the Unabomber, the Capitol gunman and the Freemen.
Today, despite my big beginnings, I’m no Bill Dance or Bud Lilly. I’m not even my dad. I fish for the love of it and I catch-and-release as much as I catch-and-feast. I go home happy with nothing and I tell fish-fibs like every other self-respecting fisherman.
Four years ago, on a fishing foray with my father, he told me about an ““invasion’’ of lake trout (which are approximately three times larger than the cutthroat trout indigenous to the lake) in one of America’s most prized fisheries: Yellowstone Lake. At the time, an invasion seemed too strong a word to describe anything a species of fish could do. I remember thinking, ““Who cares?’’ I knew the exotic lake trout were bigger than the cutthroats, and what’s a few more big fish for a fisherman?
Several summers later, having hooked my fair share of cutthroats, lake trout and sticks, I asked myself again, ““Who cares?’’ I do. And so should you, if you have any interest–not necessarily in fishing–but in wildlife in general, in environmental preservation or outdoor recreation. If none of that baits you (attention, politicians), does money? Yellowstone Lake isn’t just the premier surviving inland trout fishery in North America, it’s a big industry. In 1994, it was estimated that the cumulative 30-year value of the fishery, if lake trout were absent, was more than a billion dollars. The estimated value depreciates $640 million if the lake trout remain.
To the novice fisherman, the notion of a big fish’s being somehow bad is foreign. The only thinking such a fisherman does while in his element is: ““Small fish, good. Big fish, great.’’ It may well have been one of these novice fishermen who introduced the lake trout to Yellowstone Lake. The Park Service is sure that someone transferred the lake trout from a nearby lake. It’s not possible that the lake trout’s presence is the result of anything except human meddling.
Why will these bigger fish lessen the value of the fishery? The first concern is that the lake trout prey on the smaller cutthroats. The cutthroats, having evolved without any water-dwelling predators, make for easy meals for the lake trout, and because they are so plentiful, the lake trout’s population will continue to flourish until the cutthroat population is all but demolished. This isn’t scientific speculation; it’s been well documented. Similar introductions of lake trout into large, northwestern cutthroat fisheries have rendered them former cutthroat fisheries.
The lake trout, if allowed to dethrone the cutthroats, will then proceed to rule Yellowstone Lake’s ecosystem in a very different manner. Experts have designated the lake trout a keystone predator, likely to drastically alter the energy flow from the aquatic to terrestrial ecosystems of the Yellowstone valley. Because lake trout dwell in significantly deeper waters than do cutthroats, they are almost entirely unavailable to terrestrial predators. Grizzly bears, bald eagles, river otters, osprey–a total of 42 species–will suffer greatly with the loss of cutthroat abundance.
The decline in such a significant food source will force species to feed elsewhere, putting an enormous amount of pressure on an already delicate balance of resources in the park. Eventually, those species less apt to change will die out. It’s as if the lake trout, not the grizzly bear or the wolf, is the park’s greatest predator. Its presence preys upon the well-being of the park as a whole.
Experts have assigned the Yellowstone fishery a value of ““a billion dollars’’ in an attempt to put a conceptual price tag on the priceless. But if you’ve ever hiked, fished or even driven in Yellowstone National Park, then a billion dollars doesn’t seem to pick up the tip, much less the tab, when you consider the adverse effects the loss of the cutthroat trout will have on the entire park.
I’m not an environmental fanatic. Sometimes I throw aluminum cans in regular garbage containers when the recycling bin imposes a 10-step detour. I’m a fisherman. I’ve never called myself an ““angler’’ because I manage to disobey the most practical laws of physics while fishing. I’ve purchased fishing equipment at Kmart, I always misremember either the size or number of fish I’ve caught in an outing, and I always tell my fishing-mates I ““had a bite’’ when I didn’t feel a tug.
But I’m not worried about me. I’m happy fishing in a wading pool under a Montana sky if you tell me there are fish in there. I’m worried about my children and yours. Yellowstone Lake (and its surrounding ecosystem) is one of an uncountable number of natural areas humans have already altered or destroyed in ignorance, but it is one of the few we can still repair.
After considering many potential solutions, including those as farfetched as introducing seals to prey on the lake trout, the Park Service prescribed a dose of good old-fashioned fishing to fend off the invading species. While fishermen are limiting the lake trout, park experts will be evaluating other means of eradication.
So, I don’t know about you, but there’s lake trout out there that need to be caught. I just bought a new lure for my rod from a Saturday-morning infomercial, and I’m armed with some experience, limited skill and a lot of desire.
Chances are good that something is invading where you live. It might be zebra mussels, it might be a coal-mining project, and such things may not make for easy fishing. But do what you can. I’ll walk back to that recycling bin next time if you will.
