Salmon Run ~ by Ted Boretti In early morning, the water of the river moves slowly so slowly the water looks like glass. The air is still cold from the night. Mist rises from the river like smoke. I slide my canoe into the water. My boots splash in the shallow water near the sandy bank. Compared to the quiet river, I am loud. Next to its graceful current, I am clumsy. My splashing sends ripples in all directions. I climb in, steady the canoe, and dip my paddle into the water. I will go against the current upstream. Soon my breath is steady. My paddle strokes are as regular as the ticking of my watch. My cheeks begin to flush with the heat of my ActivityConnection.com Salmon Run 1
exercise. The water is shallow at first. Beneath me I can see the riverbed: sand, pebbles, and stones. Soon I am in deep water, and I can see nothing below me. Then I see the salmon. They swim with me upstream against the current. These are no ordinary fish. They are bright pink. Their lips are hooked and toothy. They are strong and determined. The urge to spawn is so great that they swim much faster than I can paddle. No matter. There is no need for me to hurry. I am not the only one patrolling these waters for the salmon. This is Alaska a rugged, wild land of sheer mountains and ancient glaciers. Thick stands of spruce trees hide beasts of tooth, nail, and claw. The grizzly bears know the salmon are running. I paddle my canoe in the middle of the river. I stay away from the shorelines and the shallow waters where the big brown bears ActivityConnection.com Salmon Run 2
gather. They are keen hunters, but they do not need to be keen with such a glut of fish. They dip their claws into the water and pull the fish out, three at a time. The bears eat their fill. They lie in the grass, stuffed fat with salmon. It is not just the bears that feast on the salmon. Above me in the sky, bald eagles fly. They are also keen fishers. They gather by the hundreds along Copper River. I watch them turn their snow-white heads. Then they turn their snow-white tails and dive down to the water. They pluck fish in their talons and find a quiet place to eat. But there is not much quiet. The massive birds stand wing-to-wing on sandbars, shrieking and calling and eating fish. There is no need to fight or fuss. There is enough fish for all of us. Despite the bears and the eagles, the salmon do not stop. They glide swiftly through the water. When I come to rapids, I beach my ActivityConnection.com Salmon Run 3
canoe and carry it overland, upstream. The salmon cannot follow me. Instead they must leap. With all their strength, they leap from the water. They fly. They dash against the boulders. The icy, rushing water pounds them back down. But the salmon do not stop. They leap again and again. Into the jaws of bears. Into tree limbs overhanging the river. Still they squirm and leap and press on. At last, far upriver, I reach my goal. The sun hangs high overhead. I wipe the sweat from my brow. The river is very shallow here. The riverbed is gravel. The water moves quickly over the stones. The racket of colliding stones is deafening. In the midst of all the splashing and the stones is a wide thrashing of pink and red. The salmon are here. The females are making their nests and laying their eggs. I dare not get too close. I will take my photographs and ActivityConnection.com Salmon Run 4
depart. I have found evidence that the salmon spawning grounds are still healthy. The salmon are plentiful. My job is done. But the salmon still have work to do. The newly hatched fish will swim downriver to the ocean, where they will grow fat and strong. Then, again, they will return to spawn. And I will be here to witness them and monitor their progress. But before I turn my canoe around and head for home, I will dip my net into the water and catch a few of the rich fish for my own supper. And a few more for the freezer. ~ The End ActivityConnection.com Salmon Run 5