Smoke Signals
OCTOBER 1, 2001
The strong, slippery eels played an important
role in Tribal history, soon they could be gone.
TOE
Continued from page 3
was followed by the act of ripping
out the backbone, before cutting
them up. .
"I never could eat skwakwah," she
continued, referring to the Chinuk
name. "But no matter, I hear you
can't catch them anymore."
That's a sentiment echoed often
by other Tribal Elders, particularly
for Leonard Vivette, who has se
cured a reputation as an eel man
following his demonstration at the
2000 pow-wow. Vivette knows all
the former eel holes and has gath
ered at all of them. .
"In the Siletz River, at night, we'd
take a light, gloves, and just pluck
them right out of the water," said
Vivette.
He also recalls gathering them at
Rock Creek near Otis, and at 15 Mile
Creek near The Dalles some 60 years
ago. And at Willamette Falls one
weekend, he remembers bringing
back "a whole washtub of them."
Vivette pointed to the recent
droughts throughout the Columbia
Basin for the decline in lamprey.
Lower river levels, he suspects, play
a big role. But his suspicions, like
those of others, are conjecture, and
while likely valid, only hint at part
of the problem.
"What happened to them," he
said. "I just don't know."
Leon "Chips" Tom, who like
Vivette grew up eating lamprey,
suspects not enough has been done
to address the problem.
"Hard to say if Fish & Wildlife has
done something," he lamented.
"But they don't run anymore."
Chips also used to scour the Siletz
River decades ago during those
summer months, hooking and
grabbing lamprey.
"In those days everything was
plentiful," he said. "And Siletz was
one of the better fishing holes in Or
egon." Chips doesn't marvel at the dis
dain many have for the fish.
"Lots of people wouldn't know what
it looked like wriggling on the bank,
else they wouldn't eat it," he said.
But lamprey, for him, were a real
treat.
"Eel, it tasted good, and had lots
of protein," he added. "It was good
for ya."
Chips is more right than he may
know.
TODAY: Current
Lamprey Facts
A ccording to a 1995 survey
of lampreys by the
A" Bonneville Power Admin
JL JUL istration (BPA) the fish
has a much higher caloric value per
unit weight than most salmonids
(steelhead, trout and salmon). Sec
ond, they are considerably rich in
fats, much more than their salmon
counterparts. In short, though
available only for a small duration
of the year, harvesting lamprey
was highly economical given the
amount of work necessary to catch
them (and it also explains why they
were favorites of marine predators
as well).
Ironically, the same fatty quality
was the one difference that played
a big role in lamprey being the sec
ond favorite fish. Like salmon, the
flesh would be smoked and pre
served for later, but the oily nature
of the eel's flesh made the meat
more susceptible to rancidity.
Smoked and dried lamprey would
never last through the winter.
Though many Natives continued
to catch and devour the lamprey
even during the early part of the
20th century, its desirability as a
resource declined for a short while.
Settlers at first dimly acknowledged
the creatures. Fur trappers were
known to favor ground lamprey
meat as bait, but not until fish
culturists arrived did the newcom
ers see the value of the fish. Dur
ing the early 1900's Willamette
Falls was a treasure trove.
Lamprey became paramount to
many businessmen at the onset of
the 1940's. The uses ranged from
vitamin oil, food for livestock, oil for
perfumes and fish meal. One won
ders why the fish ever went out of
style at all.
This of course brings us to the
ultimate question: What hap
pened? Theories abound, and vary. The
BPA survey holds that the construc
tion of dams has hindered the pas
sage of spawning lamprey, a situa
tion grimly reminiscent of salmon.
That has contributed to the dete
rioration of spawning and rearing
grounds. The decline of traditional
lamprey food sources such has
salmonids could be sited, as well as
numerous attempts to curb the
population of "pests" through vari
ous means.
The final answer however will be
that nobody really knows, which is
why the ODFW decided to start is
suing permits at Willamette Falls,
since probably no other area in the
Columbia Basin can boast the sheer
volume of lamprey available like
the spot near Oregon City. The sea
son this year ran from June 16 to
August 1 half the normal time
of the lamprey runs. By having
harvesters report their catch, biolo
gists can get a hint at the size of
the population and finally gather
a base of information through
which to conduct studies.
Craig Foster, who works for the
Oregon Fish and Wildlife Commis
sion as the Willamette Falls Project
Biologist, explained that since the
lamprey has been the subject of so
few studies, it has been largely
overlooked and there are scarcely
any useful facts from which to draw
conclusions.
"I think we need to do more work
on conservation awareness," he
said. "Because we don't have nearly
enough information."
And that information does not
appear to be arriving easily, he ex-
ftir tijm& 3m& nflto 'HRr- vy4eitr' iltr- fts&l
plained, because no reliable method
exists by which to make assumptions
about the population. Harvesting
reports from Willamette Falls, while
useful, he said, are also inconsistent,
since the spawning usually occurs
in tributaries and streams.
Willamette Falls, he also specu
lates, could be one of the reasons
studies of the fish are erratic. Look
ing at the numbers from the
ODFW's survey on the lamprey
harvest, where in the 1940's the
reported take was monstrous (one
year listed 397,000 pounds), figures
in the 1990's are alarming (29,000
pounds in 1999). One could con
clude some cataclysm unfolded.
Some would point to the construc
tion of the more concrete dams in
the 1900's, and that would not be
an entirely wrong assumption.
But there are also differences in
the procurement techniques today,
Foster said, mainly that in the
1940's traps were used, gathering
lamprey by the dozen, while today
the only legal methods are hand
and hook. Thus, to assume that the
dams are solely responsible would
be slightly specious reasoning.
That said, however, Foster still
acknowledged that there are "con
siderably less" lamprey than before,
and ODFW should take the prob
lem seriously.
"Lamprey are a good indicator of
watershed health," he said. "And
this is a good opportunity to learn
more about them"
Unfortunately, a few years may
pass before studies yield any results.
"Human development," he added.
"Has definitely had more negative
effect than positive over the last 100
years."
The term "human development"
could refer equally to increasing en
croachment into lamprey territory
and sadly, outright attempts to kill
the fish. The BPA survey noted that
arid parts of the Northwest, such as
Eastern Oregon and Washington,
feature irrigation, which alters
stream flow, lowers river levels, even
raises temperatures. Grazing and
logging, likewise increase tempera
tures and increase the streams' sedi
ment loads. Other industries, such
as mining, refinery and radioactive
waste discharge add to pollution. All
these factors disrupt lamprey life.
Unknown to many, however, are
the numerous fish poisoning
operations conducted by the Oregon
Fish Commission in attempts to con
trol populations of non-game fish.
In late 1967 and early in 1974,
chemicals were released into a 90
mile stretch of the Umatilla River,
boasting a 95 percent kill rate.
Even accidents have played a
role. In 1990 a tractor-trailer rig
spilled hydrochloric acid in the
John Day River, killing roughly
10,000 young lamprey.
While it's unlikely that many
people will hold vigils over lamprey
deaths, the irony is that, echoing
Foster's sentiments, as goes the lam
prey, so goes many others. And in
order to understand that, one needs
to look at the life of the lamprey and
more importantly its specific ecologi
cal niche in the Columbia River ba
sin. Like salmon, lamprey are in fact
anadromous, meaning that they are
born in freshwater, migrate out to
sea and return years later as adults
to spawn. Each spawning act will
typically produce hundreds of eggs,
which are then covered with sand
and small rocks. Post-spawning
adults usually die within five weeks.
Eggs hatch within three weeks of
fertilization and the lamprey then
enter into a larval stage that can
extend up to seven years. Called
ammocoetes, the larvae are born
blind, sedentary and move after
continued on next page
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Eels On Ice Tribal Elder Leonard vivette and his daughter Leonette Galligher
caught some lampreys and demonstrated how to clean, prepare and cook the eels at
the Tribe's Annual 2000 Pow-wow last August.
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