Our Salmon in the Schools program is currently in full swing! Washington State Regional Enhancement Groups received funding provided by the Office of Superintendent of Public Instruction (OSPI), State of Washington, to provide local elementary teachers with aquarium equipment to raise coho salmon in their classrooms. This year, we’re working with 5^th graders at Hamilton Elementary in Port Angeles, 3^rd graders at Chimacum Elementary, and 1^st/2^nd graders from Salish Coast Elementary in Port Townsend. Funding also supports NOSC staff in providing 3 lessons to the students while the fish develop in their aquariums. The program culminates this spring with a field trip to release the fry into nearby salmon-bearing streams. Our Education and Outreach Associate, Kevin Merrigan, has already taught one lesson each at Hamilton and Salish Coast, and can’t wait to give his first lesson to the 3^rd graders at Chimacum. As you can imagine, the students are excited to watch the fish develop and we are just as excited to cultivate the next generation of salmon stewards!

Our team had been assigned a small stream section through a riparian forest in the upper watershed of Chimacum Creek. I was feeling a little discouraged that we had not seen any coho salmon redds, even though I know a “zero” is also useful data. I began to question how salmon could possibly find their way back to obscure corners of the watershed like this one. Many people know that salmon “smell their way home”, but what does that really mean? What clues are they looking for and how do they know which way to go? I learned a lot from a fascinating book by Thomas Quinn called The Behavior and Ecology of Pacific Salmon and Trout (2018, University of Washington Press).

A number of scientific studies support the idea that salmon use two very different means to find their way home to natal streams: (1) They read geomagnetic signals for long-distance navigation and (2) they use chemical cues once they approach natal rivers or streams. In the open ocean, salmon (and other animals) are able to detect subtle differences in the earth’s geomagnetic “topography” and use that information about intensity and direction at different locations to guide homing behavior. Exactly how fish detect these magnetic fields is still unknown, so most of the rest of this article is about salmon as they approach natal streams.

Most of us know that salmon imprint to natal stream characteristics when they are very young. Not as simple as it sounds. Rocks, soils and plants all release chemical signals into freshwater streams, and the specific combinations change as water flows downstream. Salmon learn to recognize not only where they hatched, but imprint to a sequence of odor combinations, which Quinn calls “olfactory waypoints”. This imprinting happens at the same time as other internal transformational changes when they develop from alevin (newly spawned salmon still carrying its yolk sac), to fry (after leaving the gravel beds where they were born), to smolt (as they move to saltwater). This sequential imprinting of odors becomes a navigational “map”, which in reverse helps them migrate home. Biologists are still trying to understand the physiological mechanisms underpinning salmonid imprinting and homing migration, as well as which of the many chemical signals from rocks, soils and plants surrounding freshwater streams are detected. The ability to sense those odors doesn’t emerge until a salmon is fully grown, in the final stages of homeward migration, and at the appropriate time of year.

The scent of a natal stream is not the only set of olfactory clues used by salmon. Social cues may also influence where and when salmon choose to head upstream; studies have shown that salmon also recognize closely-related genotypes (pheromones, perhaps?) when gathering in nearshore areas. Perhaps sensing that there are more of your own kind gathering in a particular area is reassurance that the odds of successful spawning have increased.

I can’t really talk about homing without including straying. Straying (when fish migrate up a stream other than their natal stream) is also an adaptive strategy for long-term survival of the species. Yes, salmon are genetically programmed to return to their natal stream, but from an evolutionary perspective, it’s advantageous if some are more inclined to wander or change behavior in response to adverse or new environmental conditions. These conditions might include unusually warm weather that raises stream temperatures, changes in stream conditions due to natural catastrophes such as volcanic eruptions, or opportunities for newly available habitats as glaciers melt. Studies of the effects on salmon behavior after the eruption of Mount St Helens and warm years alternating with milder ones along the Columbia River have confirmed the ability of salmon to respond to environmental shifts. Straying may also be attributed to other factors such as errors or weak imprinting, masked chemical signatures, sensory failure, etc.

How much straying happens regularly? Scientists have studied this for decades and of course there is no simple answer (and lots of variables). Studies of hatchery Chinook released and returning to five different Columbia River tributaries over eight years reported straying rates of 5-19% from one tributary river to another. Straying rates also vary by species; several studies indicate that Chinook salmon are more inclined to stray (5-15%) while coho salmon seem least likely to stray (0.5% - 2%). Results varied, however, depending on the study area and species studied.

My NOSC spawner survey team failed to find any coho or redds in our small stream this winter. But it was still a meaningful experience in other ways: Discovering hair frost. Learning more about the small tributaries that feed into Chimacum Creek. Walking that winter streambank and appreciating a place where salmon have sometimes spawned. And most of all, acquiring a much deeper appreciation of the amazing miracle of salmon migration.

I'm a Washington native, the oldest of three siblings, and I enjoy walking, listening to a wide variety of audiobooks and music, photography, and organic gardening and landscaping. Since birth, nature and animals have always captivated, enchanted, enlivened and soothed my spirits most. Heaven was being out in the woods, picking huckleberries, walking along a creek, mesmerized by the sunlight rippling across the rock bed and, otherwise, just absorbing every exquisite detail & facet of nature. Even now, a rewarding day is spent outside, listening to an audio book, hands in the dirt, creating beauty in the yard while appreciating the intricacies of life. In general, I’m enthusiastic about whole-systems, and big-picture thinking, including formulating ideas, making connections and helping to facilitate positive change in our shared world.

When my parents made the difficult decision to sell some undeveloped property that had been in my family for two generations, I was devastated to be losing wetland habitat that was a creative, safe, and exhilarating sanctuary. Deciding to preserve and expand the “essence” of it, and the remaining (unsold) land I grew up on, I began growing its trees and plants from seeds and saplings. This developed into a lifelong hobby of gardening, including a full nursery today of plants and trees from places I cherished while growing up, as well as many “rescued” from urban interface development. Now I would like to donate many of these trees and plants to habitat restoration and stewardship projects, where they can thrive.

As we face climate change and environmental degradation, conservation advocacy and action feel more important than ever. Nature is miraculous and healing and worthy of our collaborative effort to ensure the world's ecosystems remain intact and accessible for all species, no matter the current popular culture or political landscape. With this goal in mind, it is my intention for the trees and plants I’ve grown to find “good homes,” that will enhance native habitats and provide sanctuary and peace for people and wildlife alike.

Getting involved was the result of a serendipitous connection! In looking for homes for my nursery trees, I contacted several municipal, tribal, and non-profit organizations. King County Parks referred me to the North Olympic Salmon Coalition, who then reached out just before December’s Kilisut Harbor planting event. I was thrilled to participate and bring more trees! It was a magical, emotional & deeply meaningful coincidence that the project took place just down the road from where my grandparents used to live on Marrowstone Island throughout my childhood and young adult years--a place which holds so much nostalgia and happy memories in my heart.

It is humbling to hope that my volunteer story might inspire others to plant a tree or shrub, to honor and care for the earth more each day, to take a moment to appreciate the frogs croaking, birds singing, and wind blowing through the trees, or just acknowledge the connectedness of all of life and what we are borrowing from the future. Thank you to all the wonderful staff of the North Olympic Salmon Coalition who went above and beyond in welcoming me. I look forward to restoring more natural habitat to its greatest potential with you again!