Salmon at stake in new sport fishery fight

A program created to sustain B.C.'s $8.3-billion sport fishing industry amid widespread fishing closures is under fire from environmentalists and some First Nations concerned it is harming threatened wild chinook salmon.

Unlike previous rules that let anglers keep whatever fish they caught during an opening, the so-called "mark-selective fishery" program only lets them keep hatchery-raised chinook. Wild fish must be released so they can spawn, passing on their ecologically important genetic diversity and sustaining future runs.

Chinook are ecologically vital and culturally important for many First Nations, but some stocks have seen dramatic population declines in recent years. Out of 29 chinook stocks assessed by the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada, only two are considered "not at risk."

In theory, the hatchery-raised fish are easy to identify because they are marked, meaning their adipose fin — an unused fin on their back — was removed before the fish were released. But unlike in the U.S., where marking is mandatory, only about 10 per cent of Canadian hatcheries mark their fish.

Without marks on all of Canada's hatchery fish, it is impossible to figure out without genetic testing which of the fish swimming and spawning in B.C. waters are actually wild. That makes it hard to know how many wild fish are being caught by anglers and whether those released manage to spawn.

Currently, the bulk of the Department of Fisheries and Oceans' (DFO) information about the fishery comes from anglers themselves voluntarily reporting their catch. Because it relies on individuals to faithfully report, the approach provides the agency with minimal data about fish that are caught and released, which studies show are more likely to die. And because not all fins are removed from fish raised in hatcheries, it’s impossible to tell which of the fish caught and released come from endangered stocks.

"We don't know what the impacts are," said Gordon Sterritt, executive director of the Upper Fraser Fisheries Alliance, a coalition of First Nations working to protect salmon and Indigenous fisheries in the river's headwaters, which are some of the most vulnerable runs in the province. "Data is key. Without that data, we cannot make an informed decision."

Despite the concerns, in 2021, DFO piloted mark-selective fisheries proposed by the province's sport fishing lobby in a handful of bays in southern B.C.

The decision was not well received by some First Nations, who believed DFO was favouring the fishing industry over salmon conservation. Their concerns arose after reviewing a trove of internal documents that showed DFO helped sport fishing lobbyists craft the proposal even as the nations say they struggled to obtain the same fisheries data the sport industry used in the proposal.

In a statement, the Sport Fishing Institute of B.C., a lobby group closely linked to the team that developed the proposal, said it "is in full support" of the 2020 proposal for a mark-selective fishery in southern B.C. waters jointly developed by the industry and DFO. The now-retired senior DFO biologist who helped design the program said there was nothing unusual about working with outside groups on fishery programs.

Frustrations were reignited this spring after DFO announced it would expand the fishery to much of the Salish Sea and parts of coastal Vancouver Island without offering data to back the decision.

Without those measures, the fishery is mostly "public relations" that justify a recreational fishery while trying to appease critics, said Greg Taylor, a biologist with salmon conservation group Watershed Watch. "It doesn't have any real controls and it doesn't have the necessary monitoring."

DFO did not respond to a request for comment by deadline.

A glance across the U.S. border to Washington state shows how the fishery could be run. In addition to marking all their fish, he explained that Americans and tribes in Washington state have developed an independent monitoring system for the fishery that does not run on an honour system. They also have more measures to close the fishery during the season if needed, Taylor said.

A similar system is possible in B.C., he said, but achieving it will take cash and collaboration, both resources in short supply, he said.

Marking every fish that leaves a Canadian hatchery — an approach that could cost millions — and developing an independent monitoring system for the fishery would help appease environmentalists' and some of the First Nations' concerns. But DFO has been reluctant to spend the money, Taylor said.

His organization and several First Nations have tried to collaborate with the sport fishing industry and DFO to share the costs of running this type of fishery. So far, they've been unsuccessful, but he sees few other options that put neither fish nor the fishery on the line.

"If we're all at the table pulling in the same direction, I think we can create this," he said. "This is the time to have approaches that allow food fisheries and recreational fisheries to be successful within the context of climate change."