Salmon education

First published in Column 8 on the 17^th March, 1993

Hamlet once told that patient and passive listener, Horatio, that there were more things in heaven and earth than were dreamt of in his philosophy.

Hamlet was giving him the reasonably sound advice that he needed to keep his mind open as well as his ears. And in the play, Roots, Beatle Bryant says, ‘Education ent only books and music – it’s asking questions, all the time.’

Which brings me to the fact that I never fail to be astonished at the things I don’t know, or at the things I can learn by a conversation with someone who has interests different from mine.

For instance, our household knowledge has increased since the time salmon fishing became a feature of our lives. All manner of new words and ideas are now part of our mental furniture: sprat jigs and smolt, quinnat and sockeye. Being a burglar even takes on another meaning, in the sense of someone cheekily catching a fish in another person’s patch.

In mid-February I had an intriguing conversation with Jack Chandra, the chairman of the Otago branch of the New Zealand Salmon Anglers’ Association, on the subject of doorstep fishing. This is one of Dunedin’s somewhat underrated tourist attractions. (It certainly attracts the locals, particularly the wife of one of the locals. The minister of one church even spends his off-duty hours salmon fishing – ‘gathering sermon material.’)

I hadn’t realised that salmon fishing in our harbour is a relatively new thing: a decade ago it was virtually unheard of. Salmon aren’t native to South Island waters; they were imported last century.

However, the shallow waters of the Leith aren’t deep enough for the salmon to do any of that upstream swimming which is a feature of their spawning cycle. So the Anglers’ Association took a ‘put and take’ approach to salmon fishing in our harbour. This means you don’t get salmon out of the water unless you put them in first, in the form of very young salmon, called smolt.

One of the interesting things about smolt, which are hatched further north and brought down here in oxygenised tankers, is that while they are very young a few degrees’ change in temperature can make quite a difference to their little lives.

Turn the temperature up about four degrees and all the males become females. Now that must please my feminist readers – or the one I know I have, at least.

Can you imagine such a process taking place amongst humans? Here’s some cool young dude all geared up for a sunbathe at the beach. It’s a hotter than usual day, and he gets his tan all right. However, he also finds, to his horror, it’s necessary to go home and change his trousers for a skirt. Permanently. The dangers of melanoma pale by comparison.

Back to the serious stuff…

Once the smolt arrive in our harbour, they make themselves at home for up to six weeks before heading out to sea. So what makes them return? Though the harbour waters are salty, they’re diluted enough to act as fresh water for the salmon; this water ‘imprints’ them, and like salmon everywhere, they will eventually return to their ‘home’ ground.

Of course salmon can only be taken if they are put in to the harbour in the first place. This exercise costs money, and though the association’s members work very hard at raising it, they could always do with more. Along with Jack, I feel it would be a sad day for Dunedin if a burgeoning tourist attraction died a premature death for lack of cash.

We need to encourage this doorstep recreation.

Then, perhaps, when the City Council puts the cable car back into High St, it could run the other end down to the wharf. As the tourists reach the turntable, they would step off the platform, gather up their ‘rods for hire’ fishing gear, (including a container of freshly caught sprats), throw in their line and relax. The salmon would do the rest.

 

Part of Otago Harbour - the main city is to the left;
the sea off in the distance. 

It’s interesting that we discovered while we were on holiday in Wanaka this year a place called Hook, where you can fish for a Chinook salmon, have it filleted and gutted and vacuum-sealed in order to take home. Or you can have it cooked on the spot by their café chef, and eat it while enjoying the sun and water. There are several ponds in the place, and most of them have salmon in them; some in large quantities. It’s a great place just to walk around in, or sit watching amateur fishermen and women doing their best.

You can still fish for salmon around Dunedin’s harbour, though not so readily anymore at the wharves close to the city, some of which have been closed off. These are Quinnat salmon, apparently.