salmon

Book Talk at Veteran’s Memorial Library

/ Mike Fitz / 3 Comments

Mark your calendars if you’re based in northern Maine. I’ll be giving a talk at the Veteran’s Memorial Library in Patten at 6 p.m. on February 28. While I’ll discuss some of the main storylines in my book, The Bears of Brooks Falls: Wildlife and Survival on Alaska’s Brooks River, I also talk about how those stories might provide lessons for our relationship with the Maine landscape.

This will be a new talk, so now it is time for me to stop procrastinating and get to work polishing the presentation. I hope to see you there.

Flyer for a book talk. Background image is a bear swimming through water with two cubs clinging to her back. Above the bears is a book cover with the title "The Bears of Brooks Falls." The descriptive text reads, "What can brown bears and Pacific salmon teach us in Maine? Join Mike Fitz as he discusses his book, The Bears of Brooks Falls: Wildlife and Survival on Alaska’s Brooks River, and how that landscape offers lessons for our relationship with Maine’s wild spaces. Date: Tuesday, February 28, 2023. Time: 6 p.m. Location: Veteran’s Memorial Library at the Patten Lumbermen’s Museum."

E.P.A. Vetoes Pebble Mine!

/ Mike Fitz / 8 Comments

On January 31, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency banned the disposal of mine waste associated with the Pebble deposit in southwest Alaska. The mine could have become one of the largest open pit mines in the world and would have imperiled Earth’s last great salmon run. The EPA’s decision is a great victory for the Bristol Bay region and its salmon.

Seventy-nine million salmon returned collectively to Bristol Bay in 2022, setting a new record high for the region. Bristol Bay’s wholly intact watersheds make this possible. Water flows freely from snowmelt-fed rivulets and springs high in the mountains through the chains of lakes that occupy glacially-carved basins and into the lower stems of rivers that empty into the Bering Sea. Adult salmon swim upstream without encountering human-made obstructions or water diversions. And, instead of being displaced by shore-line hardening structures to protect buildings or roads, such as it is throughout much of the U.S. west coast, billions of salmon fry in Bristol Bay find ample refuge in the slack-waters along stream margins, grassy marshes, and lakes. Vast numbers of salmon don’t even see a bridge during their entire lives. The diversity and health of the watersheds make Bristol Bay whole. 

Turbulent water filled with salmon. A red-colored salmon's tail fin breaks the surface at upper left. At center, a more silver-colored salmon's face breaks the surface.
salmon jumping at waterfall. salmon are jumping from bottom center to lip of falls on upper left.
GIF of underwater footage of salmon fry. Water is clear. Salmon swim in current facing right over pebbly bottom.

I was late to the Pebble fight, only learning about the proposed mine in 2007 during my first summer as a park ranger in Katmai National Park. But many people in the Bristol Bay region have been advocating against Pebble Mine for 20 years. I hope the fishing boat captains and their deck hands; Alaska Native Tribes, village councils, and coalitions; lodge owners, employees, and fishing guides; chefs; scientists; those who work for non-profit and conservation organizations; and many others have the opportunity to rest well for at least a few days now that the threat of the mine is no longer looming. I thank them for their work.

Landscape scene from mountaintop. Scree slope in foreground transitions to lowland area with, forests, some mountains, and large lakes. No human development can be seen.
GIF of underwater footage of sockeye salmon. Salmon are facing left over stream bottom covered in cobbled

Before I had the fortune of living in the Bristol Bay area, I did not understand—or even fathom—the importance of salmon to place and people. The calendar in Bristol Bay is centered on salmon. The region’s economy is centered on salmon. Its ecology is centered on salmon. And it works, beautifully.

I’ve said many times before that our world is wounded. Too much of humanity seems to have a unique desire and capability to consume land, habitats, material without considering the rights of other creatures or the value that future generations of people might place on those things. I wish I could take everyone to Bristol Bay at the height of the summertime salmon run to see the fishing fleet and processors, to stand on the edge of a river while tens of thousands of salmon swim upstream, to watch brown bears gorge on their most important and sought-after food, to see an ecosystem functioning at its fully realized potential. It just might change your perspective on what should be and what is possible for our world.

Ten Years of Bear Cam and Counting

/ Mike Fitz / 12 Comments

Last summer, explore.org celebrated the 10th anniversary of the bear cams at Brooks River in Katmai National Park. These webcams offer an in-depth look at the behavior and ecology of a population of brown bears, allow us to observe the same individual bears over many years–giving us the chance to learn about their personalities and habits–and provide a platform for rangers and other experts to host live programs and commentary about the bears and their stories. It’s a wildlife watching experience like no other.

As part of the celebration, I chose to highlight some the moments that I thought were most memorable from the last ten years of bear cam. Some explore point-in-time events. Others celebrate the behavior of individual bears who have left their mark on Brooks River in ways we can’t forget or ignore. Each was unforgettable from my perspective. I hope you enjoy them.

Most Defensive Mother: 128 Grazer 

Grazer is an archetypal mother bear. Don’t get in her way and don’t approach her cubs.

Lefty Learns to Fish at Brooks Falls

Old bears can definitely learn new tricks. In July 2015, we watched a fully mature adult male brown bear figure out how to fish where he’d never fished before.

Otis Eats 42 Salmon in a Sitting

Be awed by the capacity of his stomach.

Death of 451’s Spring Cub

When a bear cub falls ill the world will watch.

503’s Saga

A lone yearling finds a new family.

Reign of 856

Few bears will ever experience the prolonged dominance and advantage earned by 856.

2020 Salmon Smorgasbord

What happens when bears have access to unlimited salmon? The 2020 salmon run gave us the answer.

History of Fat Bear Week

A goofy idea becomes a world famous internet sensation.

We are Family: 909, 910, and Cubs

Sister bears reunite while raising cubs to create an extended family.

If that’s not enough, the bear cam community complied links to all of our bear cam live events from 2022. Two stand out in my mind: 1. The impromptu Q&A about a fight between and mother bear and a dominant male, and 2. The bear cam 10th anniversary live chat.

We’ve seen a lot of special moments on the cams during the last ten summers–perhaps too many to recall–so these are only a small snippet of the larger story. What are your most memorable moments from the bear cams?

Fitz’s Fat Bear Week 2022 Endorsement

/ Mike Fitz / 11 Comments

As is tradition—going way back to the before times (2017)—I’ve endorsed a bear for Fat Bear Week. This year’s bracket might be difficult to predict, but with voting commencing today at 12 p.m. Eastern and continuing through October 11, it’s time to throw my weight behind a Fat Bear Week contender. 

I’d let him speak for himself but his mouth is usually too full of salmon.

Friends, humans, and ursids, let us stand in awe of a true competitor. A candidate with conviction. A candidate with strength. A candidate that stands up for what he believes. A candidate the size of a double-wide refrigerator. This Fat Bear Week vote for the mighty 747. 

747 returns to Brooks River every summer as a giant and just keeps getting bigger.

Two photos of same bear, 747. Top photo is a bear standing facing left with medium-brown fur and wounds on his right ear. Bear is facing right. Photo taken on June 25, 20222. Bottom photo is a dark brown and fat bear standing in shallow water facing right. Photo taken September 6, 2022.

Perhaps you don’t want to listen to me. After all, I’ve endorsed 747 before and it hasn’t usually led to his victory. Our culture is celebrity obsessed, though, so maybe you’ll listen the expert opinions of these randos. 

Homer remarked that 747 is the only other individual whose blubber flies like his.

GIF of shirtless Homer Simpson walking on beach wearing red speedo. Woman on chair yelps when she sees him.

Pee Wee Herman agreed that 747 was the fattest bear, but he was incredulous when Amazing Larry said he might vote for another candidate.

GIF. Pee Wee Herman yells at man with mohawk, "You're not going to vote for another bear are you?!?" Man looks at Pee Wee with alarm.

large brown bear stands in shallow water at the base of a waterfall. He's facing directly toward the photographer.r at
*Stares in 747*
National Park Service / L. Law

Dr. Evil threatened world destruction if 747 fails to win.

GIF of Dr. Evil from movie Austin Powers. Camera zooms in on his face while text says, "Vote for 747

I spoke with the President too, believe it or not. (He seems to clear his schedule when you have something to say about Fat Bear Week.) Joe Biden noted that 747 grew proportionally faster than this year’s inflation rate. 

GIF of Joe Biden at podium looking surprised.

747’s summer was one of competition and success. In June and July, he yielded space to bear 856. By August, however, 747 turned the tables. He frequently challenged and displaced his long-time rival. 

It’s hard work staying dominant and getting fat too. Bears as large as 747 tend to overheat easily, and while their limb bones are built to support their great mass sometimes climbing those hills is a struggle.

You also can’t get that fat without eating a lot of food, and 747 excels in this life goal. Although we don’t know exactly how many fish 747 ate this year, a study about brown bears on Kodiak Island may provide some insight. 

Brown bears shed their fur once per year in early to mid summer. Since new fur grows during a bear’s active season, it contains a record of what the bear ate during that time. Studies of captive bears had previously determined the relationship between the mercury content in food and the mercury content in hair. To apply this to bears on Kodiak, researchers first determined how much mercury is found in the Pacific salmon that spawn on Kodiak. They then analyzed the mercury content found in the bears’ hair to gain an estimate of salmon consumption. Large adult males, on average, ate 6,146 pounds (2,788 kg) per bear per year! Some adult males ate a lot more, though, as much as 10,000 pounds of salmon. Since 747 fished at Brooks Falls almost every day between late June and mid September this summer, then his total salmon consumption may likely have been near the upper end of that spectrum.

For fisheries managers and biologists, these statistics are more than pieces of trivia. They are necessary to help inform decisions about salmon escapement goals, so that salmon runs are sustainable for people and the wildlife who depend on them. The aforementioned Kodiak study found that “the estimated population of 2,300 subadult and adult bears [on Kodiak] consumed 3.77 million kg of salmon annually, a mass equal to ~6 percent of the combined escapement and commercial [salmon] harvest (57.6 million kg).” Katmai National Park’s bear population is about as large as Kodiak’s, and when we work to sustain salmon runs we’re also celebrating the life they provide to many other species and individuals, such as bear 747.

Bears get fat to survive winter hibernation, and Katmai National Park’s Fat Bear Week bears are well positioned to weather the oncoming famine. But there’s candidate who eclipses the rest. Your bear might be a 10 but 747 is 1,400 pounds. I’m voting for 747, are you? 

GIF of Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy nodding in agreement.

Download your bracket from FatBearWeek.org and go there to vote in each Fat Bear Week match from October 5 to 11.

THE THING ABOUT BEARS IS THAT A LOT OF THEM ARE BIG. BUT LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN 747?? HE’S SO BIG. A GIANT, REALLY. HE JUST SITS THERE AND FISHES LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW. I MEAN HE HARDLY LEFT THE FALLS ALL SUMMER. DOESN’T MATTER HOW COLD THE WATER IS OR WHICH OTHER BEARS ARE THERE….

teenage girl talks loudly into the ear of a teenage boy. Boy does not look amused or interested.

A Victory for Bristol Bay

/ Mike Fitz / 8 Comments

Much of my hair fell out this year, perhaps due to stress from, you know, everything, or just being a male human of a certain age, but in the midst of all else one thing that definitely did not help was the continued threat of large scale open pit mining in the headwaters of Bristol Bay, home to the world’s last great salmon run.

Read the Backstory: Bristol Bay at Risk

For about 20 years, the prospect of Pebble Mine has loomed over Bristol Bay and the communities who depend on its salmon for their livelihood. The most recent mine proposal, a scaled-back version of previous plans, would have been one of the largest surface mines in the world. According to the Army Corps of Engineers, the mine would remove 1.4 billion tons of material, and irreparably alter more than five square miles of currently undeveloped tundra and wetlands. The open pit will gouge almost 2,000 feet into the earth and stretch over a mile and a half wide—a hole so deep the Washington Monument could be stacked on top of the Empire State Building and not reach the original land surface. A 500-foot tall earthen dam would be built to hold waste rock and other tailings. All of this was proposed for a site at the headwaters of the Nushagak and Kvichak rivers, two of the most productive salmon producing watersheds on the planet.

In late July, the Army Corps released its final environmental impact statement (EIS) on the mine. While the EIS was not the final word on the mine, by most accounts it seemed favorable. In August, however, as I was trying to prepare myself mentally for the disappointment and anger I would have felt had the mine been approved, the Army Corps issued a press release stating that Pebble Mine “as currently proposed, cannot be permitted under section 404 of the Clean Water Act.” The Corps required Pebble Limited Partnership to provide a new mitigation plan to offset the mine’s impacts on streams and wetlands before it could receive a federal permit. In a letter to Pebble Limited Partnership, the Corps stated “discharges at the mine site would cause unavoidable adverse impacts to aquatic resources and . . . those adverse impacts would result in significant degradation to those aquatic resources.”

In early November, Pebble Limited Partnership submitted a new mitigation plan. But, it failed to satisfy the Army Corps. On November 25, 2020, the Army Corps issued its record of decision on the proposed mine and denied a permit for it. The Army Corps wrote that the mitigation plan was noncompliant with Clean Water Act guidelines, was insufficient in scope to overcome the damage the mine would do to the landscape, and that the mine was “contrary to the public interest.”

I was elated to read the Corps had reached this conclusion. In my public comments on the Army Corps draft Pebble Mine EIS, I had in fact called for the Army Corps to deny a permit for the mine partly because it was contrary to public interest.

The cheapest, most feasible, and most environmentally ethical decision is to conclude this mine poses unacceptable risks to Bristol Bay—specifically the Nushagak and Kvichak watersheds—reject the mine alternatives, and choose the no action alternative for the final EIS. This is well within the Corps’ legal authority: “No Action Alternative could be selected if USACE determines during its Public Interest Review (33 CFR Part 320.4[A]) that it is in the best interest of the public, based on an evaluation of the probable impacts of the proposed activity and its intended use on the public interest.” (Ch. 2-8)

There is no doubt the no action alternative is in the best interest to the public. We have so little to lose by leaving the ore at Pebble Mine in the ground and so much to gain by protecting it for current and future generations. The decision is clear. The only acceptable alternative proposed in the DEIS is the no-action alternative. Do not permit this mine to be developed. 

While campaigning for the US presidency, Joe Biden stated that he opposed the mine. His election along with the Army Corps’ decision during the final weeks of Donald Trump’s anti-conservation administration serves as a death knell for this iteration of Pebble Mine. However, the ore remains on State of Alaska lands open to mining. Mine executives and investors will continue to ogle it. Even as the current Pebble Mine proposal is killed, a new version may rear its ugly head in the future. We came closer than ever before to sacrificing the last great salmon run along with the regional economy and ecology dependent on it.

Now, we must work ensure that this unique landscape is permanently protected from development that is incompatible with salmon. Because mine permit applications can be resubmitted, Bristol Bay’s salmon remain under threat.

The United Tribes of Bristol Bay has called for Congress to establish a Bristol Bay national fisheries area. It would provide federal “protection for the watersheds of Bristol Bay, Alaska. It must permanently ban any toxic mine waste from the proposed Pebble Mine and large scale projects like it that would harm Bristol Bay rivers, lakes and wetlands.” The effort has already gained support from the Seattle Times, Commercial Fishermen for Bristol Bay, Alaska Audubon, and the Natural Resources Defense Council among others.

I wholeheartedly support this proposal. Congress and the State of Alaska should work together to permanently protect all of Bristol Bay’s headwaters from development that is incompatible with the protection of salmon. We’ve sacrificed freshwater salmon habitat for mining, irrigation, hydropower, roads, industry, and plain convenience nearly everywhere outside of Alaska and Bristol Bay. Meanwhile, climate change will make it harder for salmon to survive in places where runs already struggle. We and the ecosystems who depend on healthy salmon runs pay the price when they don’t return, and it’s a lot more expensive and difficult to restore salmon runs than to protect healthy runs in the first place.

Salmon are valuable for more than food and aesthetics. As conveyors of energy and nutrients from the sea, salmon enrich freshwater and terrestrial habitats. Ecosystems are more productive and wildlife more abundant in areas with healthy runs of wild salmon. Bristol Bay salmon support tens of thousands of jobs and the well being of the people who call the area home.

In the meantime, what can you do to help? If you have the time, write to your congressional representatives and urge them to permanently protect Bristol Bay. If you eat salmon, be sure to purchase salmon that is sustainably sourced (if you buy wild Alaska sockeye salmon, it’s very likely to be from Bristol Bay). And share the wonders of the Bristol Bay region with your friends and family.  While explore.org’s bearcams in Katmai National Park are offline for the winter, even the cam highlights show an ecosystem working at its full potential. It’s hard to not feel awe and wonder at the sight of bears competing for the opportunity to catch salmon.

On a societal level, 2020 hasn’t produced many celebratory occasions. We remain in the midst of a pandemic, one that is raging more than ever. Climate change hasn’t slowed one bit, and this year is on track to be one the warmest on record. The extinction crisis is worsening. Plus our partisan and political divisions are deeper than at any other point in my lifetime, hampering our collective ability to resolve these issues.

Stopping Pebble Mine now is significant and a cause for celebration. It underscores that we value clean water and sustainable fisheries.

But the fight isn’t over. Given the poor state of North American salmon outside of Alaska, with collapsed runs existing at small fraction of historic highs, Bristol Bay should be our line in the sand. It is the last great salmon run left on Earth and it cannot be compromised.

The Bears of Brooks Falls: The Book

/ Mike Fitz / 19 Comments

I first traveled to Brooks River within Katmai National Park in early May 2007, and today it’s hard for me to imagine my life without it.

On the morning of my first flight to Brooks Camp (which is only accessible by boat, plane, or a very long, boggy, buggy, and rough cross-country hike), fellow rangers and I hauled our clothing, equipment, and months of food to the floatplane docks along Naknek River in the small town of King Salmon, a sprawling community surrounding an airport and mothballed U.S. Air Force base. We were excited and enthusiastic to begin the adventure, but few of us, I believe, truly understood what we were getting ourselves into. I certainly didn’t. Not quite a greenhorn when it came to wild areas, I had never experienced a landscape like this.

Immediately after takeoff, I gazed out the window of our small plane, my eyes transfixed on what many people would describe as nothing. King Salmon’s few houses, roads, and infrastructure quickly yielded to tundra and scattered spruce trees. This was land devoid of permanent human habitation. Cross hatching animal trails led to unknown destinations. I saw wildly meandering creeks, too many ponds and lakes to count, and a horizon bounded by unnamed mountains.

After twenty-five minutes of flying, the pilot landed smoothly on Naknek Lake’s calm surface, and we taxied to an empty beach in front of the few scattered buildings marking Brooks Camp. With the help of fellow staff, I hurriedly unloaded and stashed my gear inside a nearby tent frame cabin and began to settle in.

Later that evening, Jeanne, my then girlfriend and now wife, and I returned to the beach. I had just finished a winter job at Death Valley National Park, where daily temperatures had already risen above 100˚F, but Brooks Camp looked like winter couldn’t decide to stay or go. Leaves had not broken bud, thick blankets of snow clung to the mountains, and the underground water pipes to our cabin remained frozen. I walked wide-eyed, trying to take in the totality of the scene—the turquoise color of Naknek Lake, the snow-capped mountains, the pumice-strewn beach, a set of bear prints in the sand—when Jeanne waved her arm toward the horizon and remarked, “This is spectacular.”

I don’t recall if I responded or not. Doesn’t matter, because she was right. I had never looked upon land so empty yet so full.

Katmai and Brooks River are unlike any other place. But relatively little has been published about the bears, salmon, and humanity that intertwine at the river. In 2014, I first imagined an idea of writing a book about Brooks River and its inhabitants. In 2016, I began to work on it in earnest and this year I finished the manuscript. I’m pleased to announce my book, The Bears of Brooks Falls: Wildlife and Survival on Alaska’s Brooks River, is available for pre-order. It ships out in March 2021 via Countryman Press. In eighteen chapters, the book strives to explore the ecology of the river’s famed brown bears and salmon as well as the complex relationship people have with the place.

Part one focuses on the colossal eruption of Novarupta Volcano in 1912 and the discovery of the Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes. This event reshaped the area’s history and led to the establishment of Katmai National Monument in 1918, a time when the national park idea was still fledging.

Today, Katmai is most famous for its brown bears. Part two is devoted to their lives and the salmon the bears depend on to survive. I explore the marvel of the hibernating bear from a den on Dumpling Mountain, discover the river from a cub’s perspective, and follow the tribulations and growth of young bears recently separated from their mother. The brown bear mating season provides the chance to learn how bears compete during one of the most important times in their lives. Writing about the bear hierarchy, I consider how this social structure provides advantages to bears who live in an unfair world. Katmai’s brown bears experience hunger in a profoundly different way than people. They must eat a year’s worth of food in fewer than six months to survive hibernation. Their feeding choices and habits reflect highly tuned adaptations to take advantage of summer’s ephemeral bounty. And, the poignancy of a cub’s death, one witnessed by thousands of people on the park’s webcams, provides the chance to reflect on the end of a bear’s life.

Few organisms are as important to an ecosystem as salmon are to Katmai. Leading Odyssean lives, sockeye salmon face tremendous obstacles and challenges. From fresh water to the ocean and back again, they travel thousands of miles, running a gauntlet of predators to fulfill their destiny. Weakened by their freshwater migration and subsisting without food for weeks, the journey of Brooks River’s sockeye ends when they sacrifice their lives to reproduce. They are the ecosystem’s keystone, driving the river’s abundance and significance.

In part three, I examine modern humanity’s influence over Brooks River. Humans may be the river’s biggest ecological wildcard. Climate change looms large over the land and seascapes, and people alter the behavior of the bears that make the scene so special. The infrastructure needed to support thousands of visitors and their recreational activities invite conflict with bears. Managing bears and people in such a small area is especially challenging, provoking a decades-long and often emotional debate about the river’s future.

The Bears of Brooks Falls: Wildlife and Survival on Alaska’s Brooks River is an exploration of brown bears and salmon in one of the Earth’s last fully intact ecosystems. It’s an honest and deep dive into issues surrounding the role people play in the riverscape and Katmai National Park. And, I’m so excited for you to read it, and I hope you’ll consider adding it to your bookshelf.

Early September Bearcam Questions and Answers

/ Mike Fitz / 3 Comments

This blog has been relatively dark over the last year, not because I hadn’t intended to write for it but because I frequently had other writing duties to fulfill. Afterward completing one task, it was often easier to space out at the end of the day than concentrate on writing something that approaches partial intelligence.

I want to share a little of what I have been writing though. Each Tuesday, I cohost a question and answer session in the comments on explore.org’s Brooks Live Chat channel. It’s an AMA about anything related to Katmai National Park’s bears and salmon. Many people submit your questions in advance, which allows me to answer them with greater detail than a question asked on the spot. Below are my answers to those questions during the Q&As for early September.

Be sure to join the Q&A every Tuesday from 5 -7 p.m. Eastern in the Brooks Live Chat channel, and if you prefer to chat in sentences limited to 200 characters, then join the bearcam conversation on explore.org’s Brooks Falls YouTube feed.

September 1, 2020

I’d like to talk about the “Beaver Pond,” which Kathryn asked about via the Ask Your Bearcam Question form. “I’ve often looked at photos of the [Beaver Pond] and wonder if any salmon can make it to the pond and if any of you have seen bears fishing or hunting around the pond?”

The “Beaver Pond” is located about fourth-tenths of a mile south of the outlet of Brooks River. A road provides an avenue to get near there although there is no developed trail to the pond’s edge. Bears use the area but mostly as part of their efforts to get to and from Brooks River because the pond is inaccessible to salmon.

The Beaver Pond in relation to Brooks River
A beaver at the Beaver Pond

Beavers maintain a lodge on the pond’s north side and a grass-covered dike (an old beaver dam) lines much of that area. But, the Beaver Pond isn’t a true beaver pond in the sense that its formation was the direct result of beavers. It was once part of Naknek Lake and has since been cut off by the sediments deposited by wind driven waves.

The beaver pond was once a cove on the edge of Naknek Lake. Strong easterly winds create waves that erode the gravel shoreline to the southeast of Brooks River. The waves carry gravel and sand northwest toward Brooks River. Over time, a horsetail shaped beach began to encircle the cove.  This image below is from an unpublished geologic report about the Brooks River area. Note the concentric ridges along the lakeshore near the beaver pond. These are the beach ridges that cut off the beaver pond from Naknek Lake.

This process is similar to what we see at the river mouth, especially in the “spit” area that partly encloses a lagoon-like area rangers call the boat cove. The boat cove may be destined to become a small pond or marsh like the wetlands between the river mouth and the beaver pond today, although the mouth of Brooks River is more exposed to direct blows from wind-driven waves than the beaver pond area. Strong storms can quickly rework and reshape the gravel at the river mouth.

In the above image, the parallel lines farther inland are old beaches as well, although they weren’t formed by longshore currents. Instead, they mark the former levels of Naknek Lake and Lake Brooks. Naknek Lake has been slowly lowering in elevation as Naknek River cuts through the glacial sediments that dam the lake.

Although we don’t know exactly what the Brooks River mouth area will look like in the future, we definitely know it will not look the same.

Jen wrote in wondering about the line-up of salmon we sometimes see below the river watch cam and asks, “Has that behavior been noted before?” And, “What criteria initiate egg-laying?”

This is the formation that Jen refers to.

Parallel lines of sockeye salmon in Brooks River. The fish are facing upstream and in this image the current flows from right to left.

Sockeye salmon line up in fairly parallel rows frequently in late summer in the lower Brooks River. Until this year, however, with more salmon using the channel below the river watch cam, we haven’t been able to see this on the cams very well. Although this is not a new phenomenon at the river, I haven’t been able to find an explanation for it. We know the salmon are staging (waiting for the right time to spawn) but I don’t know if lining up in rows gives them any sort of advantage. It may be the most efficient way to sort themselves or there could be some social cue among the fish that prompts the formation. It’s a beautiful feature of the lower river in late summer.

Regarding Jen’s second question, a female salmon lays her eggs in nests she constructs by fanning the gravel with her tail. This action winnows away fine sediments that might hinder water flow (and hence dissolved oxygen) around her eggs. She’s looking for gravel of the right size and in areas of the river with consistent water flow. Males will fan the gravel occasionally too but they play no role in nest construction. Once the female determines her nest is suitable and she’s accompanied by a suitable male, she’ll release her eggs directly into the nest while the male releases his milt. In this way, it is the female who determines when to lay eggs.

LoveTheBears writes, “I understand that there is an area designated for cleaning any caught and kept fish.  What happens with the discarded fish parts?”

There used to be a public fish-cleaning building at Brooks Camp. The first iteration wasn’t much more than screened-in shelter with a bucket on the floor where people disposed fish entrails. It was later replaced by a more substantial log cabin style building where people could clean their fish. Today though, there is no public fish cleaning facilities at Brooks Camp and the public is prohibited from cleaning fish within 1.5 miles of Brooks Falls. People can keep one fish per person per day downstream of the bridge, but they must take it immediately to the Fish Freezing Building (the old fish cleaning building) and place it in a freezer. It must remain there until you depart Brooks Camp.

Although no bears at Brooks River are currently conditioned to seek human food, it hasn’t always been this way. In the 1960s and 1970s, many bears learned to associate people with food and sought opportunities to get at human foods at Brooks Camp. The fish cleaning buildings were part of the issue along with open dumps, outdoor burn barrels for garbage, and overall lack of awareness and regulations about proper food storage in bear country. As part of the effort to reduce the risk of bears becoming food conditioned, the NPS got rid of the public fish cleaning facility.

Bears easily learn and remember any trick that allows them to find food. Therefore, we must remain constantly vigilant to ensure that bears don’t learn to associate us with fish. The NPS and the State of Alaska implemented somewhat strict fishing regulations in the 1990s, which has greatly reduced the number of incidents when bears have learned to associate people with fish. Eliminating public fish cleaning facilities and prohibiting fish cleaning within 1.5 miles of Brooks Falls inconveniences some people but it is a big step toward protecting bears.

September 8

Angela writes, “We were talking about hibernation in the chat thread and wondered if it is necessary for bears to hibernate. We understand that bears at Katmai hibernate, but were wondering if bears in captivity also hibernate or if because there is a regular food source, the need to hibernate isn’t triggered?”

Hibernation exists along a spectrum rather than being an either/or behavior. Some mammals such as arctic ground squirrels are obligate hibernators, meaning they hibernate regardless of ambient temperatures or access to food. Bears experience a type of facultative hibernation. Given the right circumstances, bears needn’t hibernate to survive winter.

Each year, at least some black bears in mild climates (Sierra Nevada foothills, coastal plain of the southeast U.S., and Big Bend National Park to name a few) remain active all year. These are generally adult males. Similarly, a few adult male brown bears are active on Kodiak all year. Mild temperatures and at least some food allow these bears to remain out and about.

In North America, only pregnant female bears must enter a den and it isn’t because they must hibernate. Bear cubs are born so small and physically immature that they need many weeks of additional development before they are mobile enough to travel with mom. This is even true of polar bears who utilize the winter season to hunt seals on sea ice. Instead of heading out on to sea ice in early winter, pregnant female polar bears, just like all other pregnant North American bears, head to dens to give birth.

Although a handful of bears remain active all year, especially in more southerly populations compared to Katmai, hibernation is a bear’s best energy conservation strategy. It makes sense for nearly all bears to hibernate during winter when food is either very limited or non-existent. For those bears who stay active (other than polar bears), their metabolism and activity rates are much lower than summer. Winter activity, therefore, doesn’t mean that bears are as active as they would be in summer. So even captive bears may ignore food and water provided to them, relying more on their hibernative physiology to survive.

Erin asks, “747 is a huge bear. Is he the biggest bear seen at Brooks River? Have there been bigger bears in the past?”

As I’ve said and written many times, 747 is a giant of a bear. He is the most massive bear I’ve ever seen and we should not take his presence for granted. If 747 were to disappear from the river, it may be a long while before we see another as big as he. Last year, 747’s was estimated to weigh more than 1,400 pounds.

747 from Fat Bear Week 2019

Each year, there are comparably sized bears in Katmai and at Brooks River. I’ll start by listing three of the currently seen bears who approach 747’s size class and then highlight two who might have approached it in the past. Only the largest adult males are comparable.

Right now 32 Chunk, 151 Walker, and 856 are close to 747’s size (at least within 300 pounds or so). They certainly rival him when measured by height and length. Each of these bears seem smaller to me than 747, but looks can be deceiving. Size is also an important determinate of dominance in the bear world. It is not absolute though. While 747 is more dominant than Chunk and Walker, 747 consistently yields to 856.

32 Chunk from Fat Bear Week 2019
151 Walker from Fat Bear Week 2019
856 from Fat Bear Week 2018

In the past, Brooks River has hosted some very big bears. While I never had the opportunity to see Diver in person, he was reportedly extremely fat and large in his heyday during the 1980s and 1990s. Look at this photo as an example.

In 2007, the most dominant bear I saw at the river was 24 BB. He was very tall and long–so a massively framed bear. He didn’t use Brooks River in late summer though so we never got to see BB at his peak size for the year. BB behaved much like 856. He asserted his dominance frequently and spent less time fishing than 747 does today, so he might not have been as heavy as 747 but the potential was there.

BB in July 2007

Marlene writes, “856 is getting older. I am wondering if he will know when he no longer can hold the top spot or do you think there will have to be a confrontation?”

856 has been the river’s most consistently dominant bear since 2011. Like all bears, 856 is great at weighing risk versus reward. For him, the overall risk of confronting other bears is low and provides great reward in the form of access to food, fishing spots, and mating opportunities, because other bears recognize his dominance. 856 will use that to his advantage as long as he can.

His high level of dominance is tied to his health and fitness. He’s a large bodied bear so will remain relatively dominant no matter what but he needs to maintain his good health and fitness in case another bear challenges him or is unwilling to yield. 856 might fall from the top of the hierarchy if he is defeated in a fight by another comparably sized bear.

His reign as the river’s most dominant bear could end in another way though. He might not feel up to the challenge.

In July 2017, 856 was an infrequent visitor in July and when he did show up, he yielded easily to 32 Chunk, perhaps because he suffered from a leg injury that hindered his ability to compete with other comparably sized males. At the time, already after many years of dominance, I thought this was the end of 856’s reign at the top. I was wrong. 856 returned to the return to the river in September 2017 looking as healthy as ever and acting as dominant as ever. He hasn’t taken a step back since.

The chances of a repeat of July 2017 could be in 856’s future just as much as his defeat in an intense fight at the paws of another bears. If 856 continues to return to the river as he ages into his early and mid 20s, I think we’ll see at least one of those scenarios play out.

My Pebble Mine Draft EIS Comments

/ Mike Fitz / 12 Comments

As I’ve written before (here, here, and here) and commented on (here and here), Pebble Mine represents an unacceptable threat to Bristol Bay, home to the last great salmon run left on Earth. Through June 29, you can submit comments on the Army Corps of Engineers draft Pebble Mine environmental impact statement. I encourage everyone who cares about wildlife and wild places to comment. Tell the Army Corps of Engineers that this mine is unacceptable.

I also realize that not everyone has the time to read the draft EIS, which is huge, containing about 1,400 pages. So, I’ve copied my comments on the draft EIS verbatim below. You can also download a rich text file of the comments. I hope they inform your comments about Pebble Mine, the development of which would be a grievous mistake.

red salmon swimming in shallow water

Draft Pebble Mine Environmental Impact Statement Comments

I firmly oppose the development of Pebble Mine. The draft EIS (DEIS) fails to adequately address the mine’s short-term and long-term impacts. Additionally, its development would create several permanent hazards to the watershed, and the mine merely represents the first of many potential large-scale developments that will continually degrade salmon habitat in Bristol Bay. After reviewing the DEIS, I urge the Army Corps of Engineers to reject the permit application for Pebble Mine and select the no action alternative.

Permanent Mine Hazards

The mine and its infrastructure create several permanent environmental hazards. Two of these hazards, the open pit lake and tailings storage areas, are particularly concerning, because the DEIS does not provide adequate or convincing information on how these hazards can be contained indefinitely. For example, page 8 of the executive summary states,

“Pyritic tailings and PAG waste rock would be placed into the open pit for long-term storage below the pit lake water level. Once the material has been transferred to the open pit, the pit lake (i.e., the water that would accumulate in the open pit as a lake at closure) would continue to fill, and would be allowed to rise to the pre-determined control elevation threshold (about 890 feet). Once the level of the open pit lake rises to the control elevation, water would be pumped from the open pit, treated as required to meet State water quality standards, and discharged to the environment.”

This final stage of the open pit requires indefinite water treatment and discharge of water from the open pit. This is neither acceptable nor feasible in perpetuity since treatment facilities must be funded and maintained forever. Even if Pebble Limited Partnership is required to establish a bond to fund treatment, government solvency cannot be guaranteed over time spans necessary to treat wastewater from the open pit. Additionally, if costs to treat wastewater exceed the money available in the bond, then the burden to prevent contamination to the watershed will fall to taxpayers.

Page 8 of the executive summary also states,

“The bulk TSF would be closed by grading its surface so that all drainage would be directed off the TSF, and then the tailings surface would be covered with soil and/or rock and possibly a geomembrane or other synthetic material. This would prevent water from ponding on the TSF surface, and is known as a dry closure. Once this surface runoff from the bulk TSF is demonstrated to meet water quality criteria, it would be directly discharged to the environment.”

Since geomembranes have only been in use for 30 to 40 years, we lack adequate information on how they perform over the time span (essentially forever) necessary to keep the bulk tailings storage facility dry and prevent groundwater from leaching in or out. Simply covering it with soil, rock, and a synthetic membrane only delays groundwater contamination. It will not prevent it. The impacts of a degraded geomembrane leading to groundwater contamination are reasonably foreseeable but are currently unevaluated in the DEIS. The EIS needs to evaluate the impacts and timeline of a degraded geomembrane, not just presume that it will protect groundwater forever. It won’t.

Importantly, it is also completely unethical for a private corporation to create permanent hazards of this type. The mine has the potential to become another superfund site. If the Corps is to evaluate whether this project is in the public’s best interest, then it cannot ethically allow the creation of these hazards.

Scope of DEIS

The DEIS repeatedly presents information on best-case scenarios or merely states that something is “expected to happen” in an ideal way. For example, page 39 of the executive summary states,

“Water extraction activities would be required to meet the requirements of the Alaska Department of Natural Resources for temporary water use authorizations, and the Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADF&G) for fish habitat permits (if issued). The rate and volume of water withdrawals would be monitored at each source to ensure permit requirements are met (as per permit stipulations). Therefore, the magnitude of the impacts to surface water resources is generally expected to result in changes in water quantity likely within the limits of historic and seasonal variation. The duration of the impacts is likely to be the life of the road, and the geographic extent of the impacts is likely to be relatively close to the road.”

Page 41 of the executive summary states,

“Overall, downstream impacts from pit lake level management during post-closure would not be expected.”

For another example, page 43 of the executive summary states,

“Under Action Alternative 1, impacts to water quality would generally be limited to the mine site area, within the zone of contact water capture and treatment, with potential minor exceptions of temperature and turbidity effects. Potential effects of contact and runoff water during construction of downstream water and sediment quality would be minimized through treatment prior to discharge, and would be expected to be minor.”

Statements such as these presuppose nothing will go wrong, ever, not with water treatment, not with the tailings storage areas, not with the fuel or the natural gas pipeline, not with the water extraction sites along the road. It downplays potentially significant risks. The DEIS does not adequately evaluate cumulative, foreseeable, long-term impacts.

Problems maintaining water quality can be expected over the life of the mine and are likely to increase after the mine is decommissioned. The mine will result in a net loss of spawning and rearing areas for salmon, and the habitat cannot be reclaimed. Throughout the DIES, the text downplays the ultimate impacts of the project. To gloss over impacts to the watershed in this manner represents a lack of due diligence on the part of Army Corps of Engineers and Pebble Limited Partnership.

Potential for Catastrophic Mine Impacts

While a credible worst-case spill from the mine, such as a tailings dam failure, is not likely in 20 years, if it were to occur the environmental effects would be devastating. The DEIS, again, neglects to include the possibility of unlikely–but foreseeable–catastrophic events. The agency’s review does not analyze a full breach of the tailings dams. It instead looks at a much smaller partial breach suggesting, “Action Alternative 1 and variants would not be expected to result in a longterm change in the health of the commercial fisheries in Bristol Bay or Cook Inlet.” (DEIS Executive Summary, page 54)

The potential for a tailings dam failure might have been calculated to be small (DEIS K4.15-16) over the near term, for example, but the risk cannot be eliminated and it will increase over time without additional mitigation measures. What is the likelihood of dam failure (large or small) over the next several hundred years? How would a catastrophic tailings dam failure impact the watershed, salmon, other wildlife, and the people who rely on Bristol Bay? This must be evaluated in the EIS. It is a reasonably foreseeable impact for this type of development since tailings dams fail frequently in the United States.

Impacts to Fish and Wildlife

The DEIS does not adequately evaluate the direct or otherwise foreseeable impacts on waters accessible to anadromous fish. As an example,

“The magnitude and extent of impacts, when compared to the total mileage of currently documented anadromous waters in the three tributaries associated with the mine site (i.e., the NFK, SFK, and the UTC), the loss of Tributary 1.19 habitat would represent 4 percent and 3 percent of spawning and rearing habitat for coho salmon, respectively; and 3 percent of Chinook salmon rearing habitat in these tributaries. In the context of the entire Bristol Bay drainage, with its 9,816 miles of currently documented anadromous waters, the loss of Tributary 1.19 represents an 0.08 percent reduction of documented anadromous stream habitat.” (Executive Summary, pg. 49)

Fish populations fluctuate significantly over many years and Pacific salmon utilize different habitats during different life stages. Some places in a creek are good for spawning but not rearing, for example. These habitats do not necessarily occur along a stream’s entire distance, nor do streams support salmon at the same rates consistently. Productivity within a watershed can fluctuate greatly over annual and decadal scales. As recent research1 on the Nushagak watershed demonstrated, entire landscapes stabilize biological production. Patterns of high and low production shift among locations throughout time. Simply acknowledging a stream supports anadromous fish does not adequately acknowledge the complexity of salmon habitat. Subsequent chapters in the DEIS do not present information on the type and relative importance of the habitat that will be lost. Therefore, the DEIS’ conclusions may not reflect the true importance of the stream miles impacted by the mine.

The quoted text is also written in a manner that minimizes the mine’s impact on fish (“In the context of the entire Bristol Bay drainage…the loss of Tributary 1.19 represents an 0.08 percent reduction of documented anadromous stream habitat.”). A more ecologically accurate measure would be to calculate this statistic as a percentage of the North Fork Koktuli River watershed. As I note above, not all anadromous streams are created equal. The North Fork Koktuli River watershed likely supports unique stocks of anadromous fish. Sacrificing .08% of Bristol Bay is not inconsequential and should not be written in a manner that suggests as much.

Regarding the transportation corridor, each of the DEIS alternatives are flawed due to the lack of information on the infrastructure impacts on fish and wildlife. For example, the DEIS does not address whether shipping across Lake Iliamna will impact harbor seals. The seals who live in Lake Iliamna are a unique population2. They live their entire lives in freshwater and have never experienced consistent shipping traffic on the scale proposed. The DEIS, therefore, needs to evaluate the impacts of shipping on wildlife in Lake Iliamna.

Water Extraction

At the mine and along the proposed transportation corridor, dozens of “water extraction sites” are proposed, pumping hundreds of millions of gallons of combined from surface features such as ponds, lakes, and streams (DEIS 2-58, 2-59, 2-96, 2-111). The pumping will continue year-round for the lifespan of the mine, and potentially longer as long as the infrastructure exists. However, I was unable to locate information in the DEIS on the impact of water extraction. Text on water extraction cites Appendix K2, which only includes a table about the estimated extraction rate per year.

There is no analysis of the impact of removing 500-1000 gallons per minute from dozens of surface water features. Are the streams identified for water extraction included in Alaska’s anadromous fish catalog? How will each stream react to that level of water removal? Flow rates in Bristol Bay streams vary greatly across seasons. Can the proposed extraction rates be maintained during years of drought or during winter when flow rates are low with no significant impact on aquatic habitat?

Each water feature is hydrologically unique and should be evaluated separately. A lack of evaluation on water extraction on fisheries and wildlife is a major flaw in the DEIS.

Long-term infrastructure use by communities

The DEIS states in several places that mine infrastructure will improve the quality of life for some communities.

“As described in Section 4.12, Transportation and Navigation, Alternative 1 would result in the construction of roads and ports. Although the road and port would have limited access, PLP has stated that they would work with all local communities to identify the best solutions for controlled-access use of the road and ferry for community transportation. Communities adjacent to the natural gas pipeline (Kokhanok, Newhalen, and Iliamna) would have the opportunity to connect to the pipeline. During operations, PLP would work with local communities to identify safe, practicable ways for residents to use the access roads, such as scheduled, escorted convoys for private vehicle transport.” (4.4)

“Communities adjacent to the natural gas pipeline (Kokhanok, Newhalen, and Iliamna) would have the opportunity to connect to the pipeline. Natural gas would likely be less expensive than diesel heating oil, which could lower the cost of living once equipment (e.g., furnace, water heater) is converted to natural gas” (4.4-5)

However, the DEIS repeatedly states that infrastructure will be abandoned or removed after 20 years.

“If no longer required at closure, the pipeline would be cleaned and either abandoned in place or removed, subject to state and federal regulatory review and approval at the decommissioning stage of the project. Surface utilities associated with the pipeline would be removed and reclaimed.” (Executive Summary, pg. 13)

Due to the high cost of living in the area, communities along the infrastructure corridor are likely to use the access road and the natural gas pipeline as soon as they are permitted to do so. These same communities wouldn’t want to give it up that access after 20 years. Therefore, the likely impacts of a natural gas pipeline and roads are not limited to 20 years. Impacts extend indefinitely. The DEIS should be revised so that it evaluates the impacts of a potentially permanent pipeline and road corridor.

Potential for Larger Mine

The DEIS is a rough evaluation of a mine with a 20-year lifespan, but that is one of the least likely development scenarios. If Pebble Mine is permitted to be developed, then it will open the door for an expanded and much larger mine that will operate for nearly 80 years as well as several other large-scale mineral prospects. The DEIS acknowledges this on page 4.1-8 when it states the Pebble Project Expansion is “reasonably foreseeable” and “would develop an additional 58% of mineral deposits”. The impacts of a much larger Pebble mine and a mining district in the headwaters of Bristol Bay are potentially exponentially greater compared to the mine proposed in the DEIS. This will cause irreparable harm to Bristol Bay’s fishery.

The potential for an expanded mine also increases the likelihood that the Pebble’s supporting infrastructure will remain in place indefinitely. The infrastructure is unlikely to be reclaimed as outlined in the DEIS. It will be used to service not only the larger Pebble Mine but others as well. This will lead to a cumulative degradation of salmon habitat, greater impacts to other species of wildlife, and greater risk for Bristol Bay’s fishing industry and culture. Although it’s not possible for the DEIS to evaluate the impacts of all foreseeable project expansions and other mines, the likelihood of this should at least be acknowledged more prominently, ideally in the executive summary. As currently written it is buried in Chapter 4 and easy to overlook.

In support of the No Action Alternative

Large scale development, especially open-pit mining, is incompatible with salmon habitat. We know this because large scale development has significantly degraded salmon runs and salmon habitat across much of the North Pacific and North Atlantic. Bristol Bay harbors the last great salmon run on Earth. If Pebble Mine is developed, then we will have acknowledged we have learned nothing from the collapse of salmon runs in New England, California, Oregon, or Washington.

The DEIS is largely based on Pebble Limited Partnership’s data. With so many flaws in the DEIS, it’s clear that the applicant’s plan is inadequate and has not met the burden of information necessary to justify their plans.

The cheapest, most feasible, and most environmentally ethical decision is to conclude this mine poses unacceptable risks to Bristol Bay—specifically the Nushagak and Kvichak watersheds—reject the mine alternatives, and choose the no action alternative for the final EIS. This is well within the Corps’ legal authority: “No Action Alternative could be selected if USACE determines during its Public Interest Review (33 CFR Part 320.4[A]) that it is in the best interest of the public, based on an evaluation of the probable impacts of the proposed activity and its intended use on the public interest.” (Ch. 2-8)

Although modern society uses rare earth minerals like gold and copper in many ways, civilization will not collapse if Pebble Mine is not developed. We won’t even be inconvenienced. If developed though, Pebble Mine represents the beginning of the end of Bristol Bay’s salmon. Mining impacts won’t cease after 20 years, and the hazards cannot be mitigated in perpetuity. The infrastructure is a beachhead for a larger scale Pebble Mine as well as many others in the region. The cumulative impacts of each mine will result in the net loss of larger and larger percentages of available anadromous fish habitat. On no metric does the value ore at Pebble exceed the value a healthy Bristol Bay watershed, its tens of millions of spawning salmon, and the economy and culture based on it.

There is no doubt the no action alternative is in the best interest to the public. We have so little to lose by leaving the ore at Pebble Mine in the ground and so much to gain by protecting it for current and future generations. The decision is clear.

The only acceptable alternative proposed in the DEIS is the no-action alternative. Do not permit this mine to be developed. If you do, it will become one of the greatest environmental tragedies of the 21st century, representative of our failure to do what is right by the land, the fish, and the people of Bristol Bay. It will become a monument to human greed and hubris.

Sincerely,
Michael Fitz
Concrete, WA
May 24, 2019

  1. Brennan, S. R., et al. Shifting habitat mosaics and fish production across river basins. Science. Vol. 364. Issue 6442. 24 May 2019
  2. Brennan, S. R., et al. Isotopes in teeth and a cryptic population of coastal freshwater seals. Conservation Biology. Accepted Author Manuscript. 2019. https://doi.org/10.1111/cobi.13303

 

 

 

Bristol Bay at Risk

/ Mike Fitz / 10 Comments

Imagine a place where the watershed is un-engineered, where the ecosystem’s productivity and potential is fully realized. It produces half the world’s wild sockeye salmon and is home to more brown bears than people. Then imagine that greed for minerals, driven by mass consumption, threatens it.

Alaska’s Bristol Bay is that place.

GIF of underwater footage of adult coho salmon

Bristol Bay is a 42,000 square mile (1.87 million hectare) watershed that encompasses the southeast corner of the Bering Sea. Ringed by the Kuskokwim Mountains to the north and the Aleutian Range to the south and east, the area is almost wholly undeveloped. The watershed includes two of the nation’s largest national parks (Katmai and Lake Clark), three giant national wildlife refuges (Alaska Peninsula, Becharof, and Togiak), the nation’s largest state park (Wood-Tikchik), as well as millions of acres of undeveloped lands and waters. In short, it is one of the most spectacular and wildest landscapes on the continent.

Wildness, however, doesn’t equate unpeopled. Humans have lived in the Bristol Bay region for at least 9,000 years and likely longer (the oldest human habitation sites were probably flooded by rising sea levels at the end of the last ice age).  Bristol Bay’s Yupik, Alutiiq, and Dena’ina developed a complex relationship with the resources they used to survive, especially salmon. Today, salmon remain the cultural, economic, ecological heartbeat of the region.

Born in freshwater and grown large in the sea, salmon are a conveyor of energy and nutrients. Their upriver migration feeds everything from mink, otter, eagles, and brown bears to 30 inch-long rainbow trout and 10-pound char. After spawning, they die and their decomposing bodies distribute millions of pounds of fertilizer, substantially increasing the productivity of an otherwise nutrient poor freshwater system. Salmon even help plants grow faster.

The area’s abundance isn’t fantasy either. Bristol Bay’s 2018 salmon run was the largest on record, with over 62 million wild salmon returning. Of that run, 21 million sockeye went uncaught and escaped upstream to spawn. 2018 was the fourth consecutive year that sockeye salmon runs exceeded 50 million fish. Exvessel value, the activities that occur when a commercial fishing boat lands or unloads a catch, was worth $281 million dollars. In 2010, during a much smaller run compared to 2018, harvesting, processing, and retailing Bristol Bay salmon created $1.5 billion in sales across the U.S. The value of salmon is even higher when all salmon related jobs—fishing, processing, tourism, supplies, services, and government—are taken into account.

Pebble Mine puts all that at risk.

GIF of underwater footage of sockeye salmon

Pebble Mine is a proposed open pit copper and gold mine at the northern headwaters of Bristol Bay. The fully developed mine site would encompass over 8,000 acres. Tailings ponds and an open pit would straddle two incredibly productive salmon producing watersheds—the Kvichak and Nushagak. Supporting infrastructure would include a 270-megawatt power generating plant, a 188-mile natural gas pipeline, dozens of miles of roads, and up to three new ports where no development currently exists.

As part of the required permitting process, the Army Corps of Engineers is currently soliciting comments on its draft Pebble Mine Environmental Impact Statement (DEIS). Comments will be accepted until May 30. I’m working on my comments now and plan to share them in another post, but the draft is huge, over a thousand pages long, so it’s taking me some time to read. However, my initial evaluation of the document has revealed major concerns.

  • The DEIS evaluates the mine’s active phase (20 years), but pays little attention to the true lifespan of the mine’s footprint, which will extend for hundreds, even thousands of years and create a permanent hazard to the watershed. After the mine’s proposed 20-year operation phase is complete, the landscape is supposed to be reclaimed. Tailings and waste rock will be stored underground or underwater in the former open pit. The open pit will be allowed to fill with water. Once the open pit lake rises high enough, water would be pumped from it, treated to meet water quality standards, and discharged into the watershed. This must happen forever to prevent groundwater contamination.
  • The DEIS does not evaluate the effects of a catastrophic tailings dam failure, which would release a toxic slurry of material into the Kvickchak and Nushagak watersheds. The risk of this is low, but that’s beside the point. The risk still exists and cannot be eliminated.
  • The DEIS does not evaluate who will pay for and maintain permanent water treatment in the open pit.* There is currently no financial plan to fund wastewater treatment after the 20-year operational phase when the mine is to be “reclaimed.” Who’s to pick up the tab when the Pebble Partnership, the mining consortium owned by Northern Dynasty Minerals, decides to walk away? The partnership claims financial assurance for site closure and monitoring is required before construction, but this does not assure funding for perpetual waste-water treatment. Since the corporation cannot guarantee financial solvency forever, it should not be allowed to create hazards that last forever.
  • The DEIS does not sufficiently evaluate the cultural impact the loss of salmon would represent to local residents, especially Native Alaskans. I’ve never been to any place where a single group of animals means as much to a regional culture as salmon do for the residents of Bristol Bay. For them, loss of salmon would be equivalent to the loss of bison for American Indians across the Great Plains.
  • Supporting roads, ports, and other infrastructure have the potential to disrupt some the best, untrammeled bear habitat in the region, especially for bears that use the McNeil River area just north of Katmai National Park.

Pebble’s proponents argue that the mine and salmon can coexist, but the two are at fundamental odds and always will be. Mike Heatwole, president of Public Affairs at the Pebble Partnership, told Mashable that the mine will cause no “population-level challenges to fish and wildlife resources.”

Screen shot from Pebble Partnership website. Text says, "Where is Pebble? Despite what you may have heard, Pebble is not at the headwaters of Bristol Bay. It is located at the upper reaches of three small tributaries — out of more than 50,000 in the Kvichak and Nushagak watersheds."

Pebble Partnership also claims the mine isn’t at the headwaters of Bristol Bay, which is blatantly false. This screen shot is taken directly from their website.

Despite talk that the salmon “population” won’t be affected, the mine reduces spawning and rearing habitat no matter what. Even under a best-case scenario where Pebble Partnership keeps its word, this is still precisely how we begin to lose salmon—one impassible culvert, one dam, one mine at a time. A few yards of stream here, a little more there. Does that matter? It sure does, as the story of salmon in the contiguous 48 states illustrates.

When Lewis and Clark explored the lower Columbia, they found the riverbanks lined with people, and a regional subsistence and trade economy based on the river’s salmon. In less than 150 years, it was gone. Farther upstream at Spokane Falls, people once gathered for thousands of years to catch 60 – 80 pound chinook. Those runs too are nothing more than memory.

In Washington State today, we bicker over the last of the wild salmon, considering whether to cull sea lions to help save an endangered population of starving orcas. Not far from where I live, Baker River sockeye are completely dependent on human intervention for their survival, because dams now completely block access to their spawning grounds. The outlook for salmon isn’t good on the rest of the west coast either. By 1999, wild salmon had disappeared from about 40 percent of their historic range in Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and California. Across the continent in Maine, where people have taken great strides to clean up rivers and remove some barriers to salmon migration, almost no wild Atlantic salmon remain. Twelve Atlantic salmon returned to Maine’s second and third largest rivers, the Androscoggin and Kennebec, respectively, in 2018. Twelve.

No single factor caused the collapse of salmon runs in New England or the west coast. It was death by a thousand cuts. They were treated as an afterthought at best, undervalued and willingly sacrificed for “progress.” Similarly, if developed, Pebble Mine probably won’t be the end to salmon in Bristol Bay, but it could certainly be the beginning of the end. As Van Victor, president of the Bristol Bay Economic Development Corporation, rhetorically asked, “At the end of the day, do we really want to risk what is truly one of mother nature’s wonders of the world for copper and gold?”

GIF of underwater footage of salmon fry

Young salmon fry feed in one of Bristol Bay untarnished rivers.

If you haven’t seen Bristol Bay, if you haven’t experienced what a truly wild and healthy ecosystem is like, then it might be easy to dismiss my concerns. It can be hard to imagine rivers and streams flooded with fish, where wildlife and people flourish on the seasonal treasure. That dynamic simply no longer exists in most of the rest of North America and we, unfortunately, consider it normal. In conservation biology, this generational amnesia is called shifting baseline syndrome: Every generation sees nature through a different lens and what we view as normal is actually degraded. Our threshold for acceptable environmental conditions is continually being lowered.

Thankfully, we don’t have imagine or scour history books to understand what Bristol Bay’s fishery and ecosystem was once like because it is what it has been since the last of the Ice Age glaciers melted from the landscape. We can still experience it at its full potential. It’s a treasure to savor and protect.

But we could lose it, quite easily in fact. Pebble Mine represents greed over sustainability. If developed, it provides clear evidence we won’t stop till the entire world is consumed. Future generations will judge us poorly if we take everything and leave nothing. It takes a special kind of naiveté to believe otherwise.

 

*I’d like to add a correction on this point. According to James Fueg of the Pebble Partnership, a closure bond would have to be in place before construction can begin, with the bond’s purpose to fund perpetual wastewater treatment by the state. This is good and something I didn’t know about. However, this is of little consolation. It is unethical for a private corporation to create a permanent hazard that the government then must forever ensure is contained. It’s not in the public’s best interest, and shouldn’t be allowed.

My Live Bearcam Broadcasts in 2018

/ Mike Fitz / 2 Comments

This was a busy year on the bearcams, courtesy of explore.org and Katmai National Park. We hosted more live broadcasts this  year than any other year since the bearcams first went live in 2012.

During play-by-play broadcasts Katmai rangers and myself narrated the Brooks River’s wildlife activity, much like broadcasters for sporting event (although the lives of brown bears and salmon is no game). We never knew what might happen during a play-by-play. Watching the prolonged posturing between two of Brooks River’s largest adult males, 856 and 32 Chunk, on July 12 and integrating the ranger’s radio traffic into the September 17th broadcast are two of my favorite play-by-play moments.

The other broadcasts, live chats, typically focused on a specific topic such as bear fishing styles, hibernation, and bear research at Brooks River. Rangers Andrew LaValle and Russ Taylor from Katmai joined me as frequent co-hosts for live chats and I was also fortunate enough to speak with many special guests. Perhaps the most memorable moment from these broadcasts occurred when bear 132 and her spring cub almost stepped on Ranger Andrew and I during our Katmai centennial live chat on September 24.

If you enjoy these, then please watch many other broadcasts hosted by Katmai National Park rangers and staff on explore.org’s education channel on YouTube.