Notes From the Archipelago - Witness to Change

December 1997 - January 1998

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

And new rules for tour operators

by Alexandra Morton

As I scanned the horizon of the glassy calm Queen Charlotte Strait my heart leapt. In thedistance, some kind of disturbance darkened the water. It looked like wind, but did not cover enough area. It was Pacific white-sided dolphins (Lagenorhynchus obliquidens) "squalling". I lowered the hydrophone, an underwater microphone, and let them come to me. As they approached, I could see them hurtling through the air, gray-streaked torpedoes, with ear-to-ear smiles, and 350 lbs of exuberance. Over the hydrophone, their rapidly fluctuating whistles became so loud that I could hear them through the boat's hull. In a moment they were past me, leaving behind only a trail of bubbles.

I originally came to the Broughton Archipelago to study whales, but since the salmon farming industry has forced them to abandon the archipelago, I have spent an increasing amount of time watching dolphins, trying to solve the mysteries which surround them. Pacific white-sided dolphins are an open-ocean species and are not supposed to inhabit these inner waters, but since I arrived they have steadily increased in numbers.

On Christmas Eve in 1984 I heard strange sounds over the hydrophone. (A friend described them as "monkeys on helium" and that's pretty accurate.) I had no idea what was making the noise. The next morning I found seven dolphins and in the all-knowing manner of humans, decided that they must be "lost". Today, I believe those seven may have been scouts, because a few years later, hundreds came into the islands. Long-term local residents told me that they had never been seen here, and I wondered what prompted the "invasion".

I soon discovered that they were feeding on capelin (Mallotus villosus), a type of smelt which was not supposed to be here either. I have since learned that dolphin teeth are well-distributed throughout the past 2,000 years of First Nation middens, which means that the dolphins are returning, not invading.

The water temperature just west of the Broughton has risen almost a degree (Celsius) in the past decade, and this may have opened the door to capelin, and their predator, the dolphin.

Although dolphins are easier to approach than killer whales, they are more difficult to study. Their behaviour rarely makes sense to me as they dash madly in one direction, then seconds later in another. Just the sound of a boat is sometimes enough to turn hundreds of dolphins around in a race to catch the boat and ride the bow. Their sounds are very difficult to catalogue and study because they are a bit too high for my hearing and much too fast. I have to use a computer to slow them down and produce images that my brain can more easily distinguish.

I am trying to identify the dolphins as we have the whales, using photographs of their fins, but their high speeds produce more splash shots than usable ID pictures. However, to date I have identified 550 and know that many are returning year after ear. While I miss the whales very much, I love being with the dolphins. Their incorrigible, bawdy sense of humour is contagious and I find myself smiling and happy whenever I am with them.

I have spent many days this month in the forest on the banks of Scott Cove Creek. The community here runs a tiny coho enhancement hatchery, and while I am not much help with my 22 month daughter on my back, I can't stay away. The woods smell richly of earth and cedar, the stream is frothing and alive with fish. Long time resident, Bill Proctor, slips on chest-waders and scrambles over boulders and logs in the creek, nimble as a mountain goat, to dip out the gorgeous red and silver coho broodstock. He slips them into a tube, then clips the tube onto a clothesline which is hastily pulled across the stream and up the bank. Bill shouts, "it's a girl", (or a boy) and then we relay race the fish down the hill. In minutes, "he" or "she" is installed in the hatchery.

Survival of the babies has been high and we have returned coho (Onchorhyncus kisutch) to this and neighbouring streams. This year, however, only five have been caught so far. Shockingly, three mature male Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) were also dipped from the beautiful little Pacific stream and we were further surprised to find 25 sockeye (Onchorhynchus nerka). One person remarked, "this is not a hatchery, it's a zoo".

We put the Atlantics in a tank where they are destined to meet females of their own species in an experiment to tell us whether or not they can breed in Pacific conditions. The sockeyes were released, but their unusual presence is not confined to Scott Cove. For reasons that no one understands, sockeye salmon are heading into new streams from here to California. In Zeballos, 6800 were found where no one has ever seen them before.

Is El Niño the reason? Did one age class of salmon lose its ability to find home? Is this a problem or is it a good thing? Is it a human-made problem, or natural? DFO is working hard to answer these questions, but as in most issues governing fish, we will never really know. If nothing else, the fish will provide essential nutrition for hungry bears and eagles.

Echo Bay, the community where I live, is tiny, with only about 40 people. We have a one-room school, a post office, and a gas dock. We are one of the few shrinking communities in the world. Most people live in floathouses. Despite the all-too-human quarrelling that goes on, we do manage to pull together when the archipelago is threatened. Salmon farming is a divisive issue as three members of the community are employed by the industry, but Interfor's use of herbicides along creeks in which salmon are spawning has met with 100% opposition.

A few evenings ago, as I floated, hoping for whales, two little girls kayaked past me. Their giggles and breathless chatter drifted over the still water. My own daughter was asleep in my boat, her flushed cheeks glowing in the evening light.

As their voices faded, I was left with my thoughts.

For the sake of our children we must rethink our place in the natural order. This planet evolved under certain conditions and we cannot expect it to survive the massive changes we are causing.

It is time to wake up or die in our sleep. Either we evolve consciously or we doom our children to a slow death.

If you have the time, I recommend you read the book Our Stolen Future by Theo Colburn. Give it for Christmas, pass it around. I urge you to read this book.

Thank you.