The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current, August 02, 2022, Page 3, Image 3

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    A3
THE ASTORIAN • TUESDAY, AUGUST 2, 2022
Tribal scientists snorkel rivers to help save freshwater mussels
Threats from
climate change,
habitat destruction
climate change that warms
the water, habitat destruction,
and non native fi sh species.
By COURTNEY FLATT
Northwest News Network
At the second survey site
on the Middle Fork of the
John Day River, the research-
ers spot a non native small-
mouth bass.
“Bass!” Maine yelled
across the river.
“Uh uh. No!” O’Brien
moaned through her snorkel.
Invasive fi sh, such as
smallmouth bass, feed on
young mussels and native
fi sh, such as sculpin, which
mussels need to reproduce. In
addition, O’Brien said, inva-
sive fi sh aren’t good host fi sh
to help mussels reproduce.
“As the rivers warm with
climate change, we’re see-
ing bass move farther and far-
ther upstream, so we’re really
getting worried that they’re
going to displace the native
fi sh population. And then,
the mussels will go soon after
that,” O’Brien said.
It’s not just smallmouth
bass that are making mussel
habitat less hospitable. Peo-
ple have trampled stream-
beds, even as they try to help
the environment with habitat
restoration projects, O’Brien
said.
Most projects are aimed at
helping threatened or endan-
gered salmon. Often, mus-
sels aren’t taken into consid-
eration, Maine said.
“We work really hard to
protect the very few mussels
that are around, and then res-
toration projects, which gen-
erally are good, in the short
term have really negative
impacts on mussels,” Maine
said.
Heavy machinery rolls
over sensitive mussel habitat,
and mussels can’t just pick up
and move to another better
location, like fi sh can, Maine
said.
However, that’s changing,
as the Confederated Tribes of
the Umatilla Indian Reserva-
tion spread the word about
the importance of mussels.
Threats
When someone talks
through a snorkel, it can
sound a lot like talking
through dental apparatus – all
the words mumbled together.
But, Alexa Maine is an expert
mumbler.
“There’s a Gonidea.
There’s another one,” Maine
said as she pointed out mus-
sels while she snorkeled.
These freshwater mussels are
commonly known as western
ridged mussels.
The U.S. Fish and Wildlife
Service is considering add-
ing the western ridged mus-
sel to the e ndangered s pecies
l ist, a potential designation
that has brought more atten-
tion to mussels in the West,
where freshwater mussels are
imperiled, Maine said.
On the Middle Fork of the
John Day River in Oregon,
where Maine surveys, she
continued talking through her
snorkel, scanning the river-
bed for freshwater mussels as
she slowly moved upstream.
“I could spend all day
here. The light is so good
right now,” Maine said .
As the lead biologist for
the Confederated Tribes of
the Umatilla Indian Reser-
vation’s Freshwater Mus-
sel Research and Resto-
ration Project, Maine has
spent many hours snorkel-
ing rivers, searching every
square inch for healthy mus-
sel populations.
In the last few years, the
job has gotten much harder.
“We don’t know if we’re
watching them blink out or
just watching them decline to
a lower level of existence in
these rivers at this point. It’s
hard to tell,” said Christine
O’Brien, who has worked
with the tribe for 18 years on
its mussel project.
The Confederated Tribes
of the Umatilla Indian Reser-
vation is the only group in the
West that’s actively survey-
ing mussels and working to
protect them, she said.
“There’s nobody else
beating a drum for them,”
O’Brien said.
“Nope,” Maine agreed.
O’Brien added, “They’re
overlooked a lot of times.
They’re not fl ashy. They’re
not cute and cuddly. You’ll
donate to save a panda. But
the mussels, you know?”
“Until you really know
them,” Maine said, of the
creatures she’s quickly come
to love.
Courtney Flatt/Northwest News Network
Alexa Maine surveys the Middle Fork of the John Day River, searching for freshwater mussels.
Mussels can fi lter up to 10
gallons of water in 30 min-
utes. Most of what they fi l-
ter isn’t digested. That pseu-
do-feces, as Maine called it,
ends up on the streambed,
where invertebrates and fi sh
can eat it.
In addition to helping
clean river water, mussels
stabilize streambeds, Maine
said.
“Mussels act like little
boulders for the tiny pebbles
and sand around them, sta-
bilizing them,” Maine said.
“They can go really deep,
especially Gonidea, which
have a really big foot and
can really anchor themselves
down and anchor everything
around them.”
On the Middle Fork of
the John Day River, Maine,
O’Brien and three colleagues
surveyed several sites where
they knew freshwater mus-
sels once lived.
The snorkeling surveys
help the scientists immerse
themselves in the mussels’
world, Maine said.
“You kind of lose the
external sound. You have a
better focus with your eyes,”
Maine said.
The fi rst diff erent world
the scientists immersed them-
selves in was the Cotton-
woods survey site. The site
was the farthest upstream,
with the coolest water of
the day, roughly 66 degrees
Fahrenheit.
The water was cool
enough to need wetsuits, even
on a recent blistering hot day.
“Let me lock you in,”
Maine said, as she helped
O’Brien velcro her wetsuit.
After snorkeling for
around 40 minutes, the
researchers had found the
largest number of mussels
they’d see on this day of
surveying. The researchers
counted three genera of mus-
sels: 383 Margaritifera, 51
Anadonta, and 27 Gonidea.
Maine said the Cotton-
woods site is her favorite
place to survey mussels in the
entire world.
“It’s kind of like a nursery.
One year we saw juveniles of
all three genera, which is very
unusual. Those guys have
grown up now, and they’re
making their own babies,”
Maine said.
Mussels can live 60 to 100
years, which means when
they’re not doing well, some-
thing is likely wrong with the
river, Maine said.
“They are the granddad-
dies of the river,” Maine
said. “They’re very resilient.
It gives you a better appreci-
ation for how hard of a time
they’re having and how much
it matters to care about them
and help them when you see
this whole little connected
world when you’re snorkel-
ing underwater.”
In the Northwest, there are
only a handful of freshwa-
ter mussel types. Whereas,
across
the
Continental
Harvest
Historically, I ndigenous
people ate mussels as a part
of their food roundtable, said
Donna Nez, a fi sheries tech-
nician and member of the
tribe.
Now, mussels are often
full of toxins, so people don’t
eat them as much, Nez said.
However, the tribe would like
to be able to harvest mussels
at some point, she said.
“They’re part of the river
ecosystem. We need clean
water. Water is the main com-
ponent in our life cycle,” Nez
said.
THANK YOU to everyone who helped
our mother live at home until her
peaceful death. Special thanks to:
• Clatsop Care In-Home Services &
Lou’s caregivers
• The caring and compassionate
team of Lower Columbia Hospice
• Knappa Fire District staff & volun-
teers
• Lou’s neighbors & everyone who
helped
The Burke family
CONCEALED CARRY
PERMIT CLASS
Divide, around 300 species
can be found in the Eastern
United States.
When surveying for mus-
sels, there are certain things
you shouldn’t do, Maine
said. For one, don’t swim
upstream of someone who’s
counting mussels. Sediment
will kick up, making it hard
for them to see.
“Don’t be kicking around
in there,” Maine joked with
her colleagues.
As Maine snorkeled
upstream, her hand clutched
large rocks so that she could
stay in place and count each
mussel she saw.
“You have to get your head
up in this bank here because
there were a lot of Anadonta
in the fi ne sediment in the
bank,” Maine said.
It’s a lot to track while in
the water. To do so, Maine
uses both her hands to count
two genera of mussels.
“For this site, I keep Mar-
garitifera in my head. I keep
Gonidea on one hand and
Anadonta on the other. So
then I only have to remember
one number, and I’m count-
ing here,” she said, pointing
to her hands.
Maine also noted a few
sculpin, which are small
bottom-feeding fi sh that
freshwater mussels need
to reproduce. It’s a para-
sitic relationship that’s very
dependent on timing.
To reproduce, female
mussels release larvae called
glochidia, which then attach
to the sculpin. Female mus-
sels can produce up to 4 mil-
lion larvae, with one mak-
ing it to adulthood in the
best-case scenario, Maine
said. It’s a slow and intricate
process.
The glochidia are around
the size of a grain of sand and
don’t aff ect the fi sh, Maine
said.
“Then they drop off ran-
domly and fl oat to an area
of low velocity and fi ne sed-
iment, and then they burrow
and become an adult,” Maine
said.
However, if the fi sh aren’t
there at the correct time, or if
the mussels don’t release the
glochidia when the fi sh are
present, those mussels lose a
chance to reproduce.
And, time may be the one
thing these mussels don’t
have. They face threats from
See Mussels, Page A5
August 2 ND - 6 TH , 2022
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