These cold winter months have us enthralled with the SIC/PALS class as well. We last left off with Picking up the eggs, which are now 3 inches long and about 50-60 of them, but a few months back they were small little fry with yolk sacs weighing them down in the aquarium. In March, we took a field trip to the Tip of the Mitt Watershed Council to talk about Watersheds- What are they? Jennifer Gelb, Ecology Biologist, happily led the class through the many displays of our states great water and shoreline attributes and we also touched base on the threat of non-native invasive species- such as purple loosestrife, phragmites, zebra & quagga mussels and the ever threatening Asian Carp. She even passed around lamprey in a tube(preserved) for everyone to see. The highlight of the visit is the scale model of a small community. We sprinkle various colored Kool-Aid drink crystals across the landscape to represent fertilizer, salt, road oil, dirt/mud, industrial pollutants and various other non-source point pollutants. The best behaved kids are then chosen to operate the spray bottles and make it rain down on the village. Slowly, all the colors of lemon-lime and kiwi-strawberry collide with grape and cherry and other childhood memories become a flood of brown grey muck as they funnel down the banks and roadside drainages to the lake at the end of the stream. Everyone gasps a resounding “EEEEWWWW!!” The message is clear, these kids are headed home to tell their parents not to cut the lawn too short, over water or use fertilizer, keep the car maintained and use more environmental friendly methods to rid ice in the winter and have a ‘green’ home.

A short month later, the PALS class had the honor of being joined by Heather Seites-Hettinger from the DNR to actually dissect a fish. We luckily obtained a few small coho and chinook that had ‘gone to the big sea in the sky’ during the night prior from the Platte River Hatchery. I personally thought we would get some resistance from the children about cutting up the poor little smolts- there was none. They dove right in, all of them. We talked about various fins and fin function, went inside, made the slice from ventral fin up to  the gills and explored the visceral functioning organs of the fish. After pointing out the obvious stomach, liver, intestines, gills and air bladder, a few daring young biologists followed Heather’s lead and went in to find the brain. I am very glad we added this aspect to the SIC experience, these kids all walked away with a memorable moment they will recall when they are in AP Biology in High School.

BUGS! BUGS! BUGS! I love macro-invertebrates~ especially on a Northern Michigan stream that is beaming with life. A widely known secret, kids like bugs as well. They are equally impressed when you show them a frozen landscape and dip a net into a river and then pull out a screen wriggling with life. We walk down to the Bear River at Sheridan Bridge because of proximity and it has two very diverse eco-sytems. Above the bridge, the river is sluggish and still show signs of when this was a working river. Old farm tractor parts and former concrete dam scraps dot the bottom, filled in by silt and sand. We rarely find much diversity here, scuds(amphipoda) and cranefly larvae with a few mayfly and caddisfly larvae. Below the dam begins the Whitewater park and recent Kayak improvements move the water along and carry sediment, exposing more gravel and woody debris. We find between 20 and 22 different families: Mayflies(Ephemeroptera- isonychiidae, heptagenidae, baetiscidae and ephemerellidae) and Stoneflies (Plecoptera-pteronarcyidae, taeniopterygidae, and perlidae), dragonfly, damsel fly nymphs, tons of scuds and trichoptera species. Take a child to a river and turn over a few rocks or old wood and watch their eyes light up when a hellgramite or giant stonefly crawls out from between its niche. Kevin Cronk from TotMWC joins us and  explains how these animals are bio-indicators and how monitoring a stream can help determine if something has happened or changed in the past year if certain sensitive EPT(ephemeroptera, tricoptera, plecoptera) families have diminished or completely disappeared. These microscopic animals are the literal ‘canary in the coal mine’ for our watersheds. Behind us, in the river, we have to be very careful not to disturb a steelhead on a recently made redd as she readies to deposit a future generation of silver bullets. We always want to leave a minimal footprint when we enter the river so we always release our macro-organisms back in to the water after the class has had the chance to watch their amazing behaviour.

Yesterday, we went to Sheridan Elementary to have our last classroom visit with the SIC/PALS kids. Next week we release the salmon into the Bear River. The entire school will attend, newspaper and local television will be on hand as we escort the 70 or so salmon fry to their new home. The visit yesterday was a casting lesson for the 3rd, 4th and 5th grade classes. As Mother Nature would have it, winds were a steady 30 mph and the mercury may have touched 40 degrees, but not for long. A fine mist greeted us and later we saw white pellets dance from the clouds. That did not phase the kids. Paint the sky, answer the phone, pause, hammer a nail into the wood, flick the paint off the brush~ all various explanations we use to teach the newly sired wielders of the fly rod how to lay a line out and get that de-hooked woolly bugger in the hula hoop some thirty feet away. The girls tend to be more natural at casting, they don’t force it. The boys may have to prove something or they have residual spincasting tendencies  and don’t allow the fly rod to work with them. We may have a few future potential anglers of the fly in a few years. We always take time to answer questions the children have about fishing and our coldwater resources, always encourage them to become a  member of Stream Explorers at www.tumembership.org/youth or www.streamexplorers.org

Find a River Clean-Up and help keep our planet beautiful.

It all begins with a collector’s permit that the teacher will get upon certification of training. The State of Michigan offers workshops at either Oden State Fish Hatchery or Wolf Lake Hatchery to properly train the teachers on regulation of pH, algae, fungus, water temperature, life cycle of the fish and a host of other incidentals. The DNR has had a tremendous growth in popularity of this program with little or no moneys used to advertise or promote its growth. Currently there are 154 schools in the state and more apply every year. Just ten years ago, this was merely an idea. Seems we really do want our next generation to connect to the outdoors and the wonderful resources we have here.

Our pick up destination is the Platte River Hatchery, near Honor Michigan. The ride is a pleasant one for early November, the air is crisp and many of the leaves have fallen. Hunter’s are eager for opening of deer season and I have spied a few salmon pairing up on the upper stretches of the Bear River  behind our home. This is one of the most spectacular times of the year to live in the Great Lakes State. Rolling hills with majestic golden views, inland waterways dotted with fire-lit trees along the background and sunsets that set the horizon aflame as they burn out. At the hatchery, we were lucky to get the nickle tour and see what a vast system they have set up from the weirs and the rearing tanks and the rows and racks of egg trays. This facility takes care of most of Northern Michigan’s stocking for Chinook and Coho Salmon reproduction and it is huge. If you can get a chance to visit this or any of the state fish hatcheries, as a family or a school trip, I highly recommend and promise you won’t be disappointed. We are given two scoops of eggs- roughly 200 green eggs and place them safely in my Glad air tight disposable container and safely wedge them in between a few ice packs in my trusty Fishpond cooler for the 1 1/2 hour ride back to Petoskey. It is exciting, I know we are not transporting bullion, but I do feel like we are in a Brinks truck with highly prized cargo, it is liquid gold. We need to make it back to Sheridan Elementary by 1:00 pm so that we can meet with the News Review and have the photos taken with the students and their newly acquired babies. The kids are beaming. They are all selected to represent various elementary schools based on thier academic achievements and it quickly becomes apparent who are the ones with a million questions and who are the ones with a story about whatever it is you are trying to convey. Ironic, I see a little of myself in each of them. I guess thats why I love connecting with so many kids through something I love.

A small handful of people have asked me – Why raise salmon? Why not Trout in the Classroom? It is true, many states, New York, Vermont, Connecticut, South Carolina and a few others, do raise trout in the classroom (TIC), many of these states have been doing so for nearly twenty years. The most common response I have heard is that salmon are more tolerant of environmental conditions, meaning, small fluctuations in temperature and pH don’t have an immediate nor detrimental affect on the species as would be the case with brook trout or brown trout. Another popular answer is that salmon spawn in the fall, while trout are spring spawners and that wouldn’t coordinate well with the school year. Last time I checked, only rainbows/steelhead (Oncorhynchus mykiss) spawn in the spring while the other two tend to be autumnal spawners. Another school of thought is the  expendability factor – for lack of a better term. Salmon do seem to have a minimal long term impact on an ecosystem. They usually die off in three years after spawning and return vital nutrients to the watershed.  The sensitivity issue seems to win most arguments, but that doesn’t mean we won’t see TIC in Michigan. We have hopes and may one day soon see a pilot program that can test the viability of its success.

This is the day we meet for the first time. I get to introduce myself and the lucky individuals who will be volunteering throughout the year. This past year we thought it would be wise to have 2 assistants that can either carry the program on if something should happen to me on the river (Heaven forbid) or if I get the opportunity to chase trout in distant waters in the future. I am fortunate to have two equally gifted gentlemen that have brought different aspects and points of view to the SIC/PALS classroom. The first is Spencer McCormack, who studied Environmental Sciences at Ohio State University. He has a way of connecting with the kids in a very simple and kind manner. They say in teaching others, especially children, you either have it or you don’t. Spencer has it. They listen and they tend to hang on his very next word. The other gentleman is Paul Wiemerslage from the Au Sable Institute of Environmental Studies. Paul has his resume dotted with names like Western Washington University and Bethel University along with the North Cascades Institute- he taps into that spot we all relate to as a child, the place we held secret and safe– a place on the water. It is a joy to have both of these men adding to this year, and I can’t wait to see where it develops.

Every year we glance back and reflect on what worked, what didn’t, timing throughout the school year, how can we make it better and how can we keep it simple. There is no need to re-invent the wheel so I am not going to go through all of our rough sketches or drawing board failures, but rather how we have perfected it to fit our kids and our school. It looks somewhat like this:

• November~ Egg Pick up> meet class and get acquainted with new students.
• December~ What is Trout Unlimited? watch TU 50th anniversary DVD and talk conservation, restoration and protection.
• January~ Fly Tying> bring materials and vises and teach every child how to tie their first woolly bugger!
• February~ What is a Watershed? Visit Tip of the Mitt Watershed Council and see a scale model of how non-point pollutants enter a stream. We also talk about invasive species and the Great Lakes.
• March~ Fish Dissection >Joined by DNR employee and we take a look inside what makes a fish stay bouyant, among other things.
• April~ Macro-Invertebrates> Kids love Bugs!! walking trip down to Bear River and classify stream quality by the number of class I, II,  & III organisms. ID and key insects to order (ephemeroptera, plecoptera, odonata, trichoptera).
• May~ Salmon Release- entire school walks down to the river as we bless the tiny salmon parr a safe journey. Field Trip to Jordan River National Fish Hatchery- students try their hand at catching a trout. Casting Clinic- five or six MVWTU volunteers come out and we teach the entire school the better methods of landing a fly in a hula hoop across the playground.
• June~ Bear River Clean-up> in coordination with local non-profit organizations such as Tip of the Mitt and Little Traverse Conservancy.

These programs have generally been one day a month for an afternoon. Michigan Department of Natural Resources has a web page for further information and questions regarding application dates and requirements http://www.michigan.gov/dnr/0,1607,7-153-10369_50075—,00.html The month of May is crazy because it is the nicest weather for us to do the things we can do outdoors without freezing in a foot of snow or sleet> Northern Michigan can be temperamental and we must be flexible in our scheduling. We have done our fly tying this month and the students absolutely LOVE IT!! They get to take something home and show their parents, something they made that isn’t an ashtray (do they make those in school anymore?) We have found having the materials pre-packaged in zip-locks ease in distribution with the narrow time frame we work with and keeping the 24 kids on task. I generally tie the first fly with the class watching and then they go to their seats and we walk through it step by step. I have purchased vises at garage sales and on-line, so we have close to a dozen. The students partner up and switch off for each fly they tie. Allow yourself plenty of time, newcomers have lots of questions, thread breaks frequently, they get confused on right hand versus left hand and clock-wise wrapping. Best advice- have plenty of assistants, be patient, have a couple bobbin threaders, you do the whip-finish on all flies, get a picture with each student with their finished fly and <Keep It Simple>

Tight Lines!

Koz

I remember feelings, brief moments and impressions. Most memories run together. Many things that I did over and over, like playing cards with grandpa, I can only really recall as a composite of all the events in one memory. I remember playing cards, but each memory of playing seems attached to the same game. In fact each little memory came from many of the games I played with him. I’m sorry I can’t hold those memories together chronologically and remember details. So much of the wonder of Ginger Quill was in the details.

Grandma Fishing on the Au Sable

So many memories come back to me with smells, and Ginger Quill had distinctive smells. Even as we arrived up north in the forest we could begin to smell the pine. We drove with our windows open in those days because we had no air conditioning and mom and dad both smoked. When we arrived and stopped the car at Ginger Quill the smell was intense — pine, fur, and balsam. It was not overpowering, and at the time we were probably too young to pay attention to it. It made an impression though. Walking into the main cabin you smell the cedar walls, the pine floors and the fireplace smoke; again, it was not overpowering, but soothing. There was the smell of fly dope in dad’s tackle box, the smell of waders in the tackle room and the oil and gas where the small outboard engines were kept. The smell of pine in the bathrooms and those little football shaped gel bath oil beads and bubble bath beads.

There were the sounds of the wind through the trees, the low, not quite rumble of the river, punctuated by the trickle of water over a tree limb. The endless assortment of birds and the occasional large gunshot from Camp Grayling. The water pump coming on and the constant hum of the generator. The sound of canoe paddles striking the sides of canoes, a pole crunching into the gravel riverbed and riverboat chains being dragged over the rocks or being picked up and dropped into a boat. Mostly the sounds at Ginger Quill were quiet, soothing and peaceful.

I remember running like crazy around the dining cabin to the gazebo or down to the main cabin dock, stopping with a scream after encountering a large snake sunning itself on the sidewalk or the dock. We went screaming to the first adult we could find yelling “rattlesnake, rattlesnake, rattlesnake.” Those poor snakes. Few were poisonous and, in all the years I spent at Ginger Quill, I never really saw a rattlesnake.

I remember swinging wildly on the gazebo swings and peeling the bark off the swings to get at the sawdust left behind by boring insects, constantly being reprimanded by adults. I remember peering down into the water inside the boathouse seeing the large trout swimming in water brilliantly lit by the sun.

I remember playing with those large medicine balls and the exercise pins and climbing on the fireplace rocks. I remember chasing bats in the “Boy’s Cabin” with tennis rackets and snowshoes. I remember the rough stucco walls scratching my skin. I don’t, however, remember girls at Ginger Quill. I remember the caretaker’s daughter Bonnie Borchers and grandma, but I must have been there alone most of the time or with my brother, Geof, or cousin, Chris Olson. I do remember sleeping with Barbie Defoe once but it was at the small Defoe cabin and I was about five.

I remember chasing  Bonnie around and pulling her bathing suit top down and how upset she got. I wasn’t sure why she was upset but the fact that she was made it all that much more fun. Somehow grandma found out and we had a very serious talk. Most talks with grandma were serious. She sat on the daybed and I on a straight back chair. Next to me was a large green bottle as big around as I was and almost as tall. I came away from that talk more confused than ever. I still didn’t know what the big deal was but I did know I was not to do it again. I think I was ten. It could have been the beginning of my…. Oh, never mind.

I remember sitting on the main cabin lawn on bright blue chaise rockers drinking Squirt out of brightly colored anodized aluminum tumblers. Gnats swarmed around our heads and occasionally flies would take a chunk out of us. Grandma would often complain about all the canoers but when they tipped over in Ghoul’s Hole, she invited them to dry their things on the lawn and fed them lunch.

Map of Camp Ginger Quill

I remember poling upstream being very difficult, but easier each year. I remember one foot on the dock and one in a boat as the boat went out into the river so I fell into it — the cold Au Sable. I remember holding on Dad’s neck (feeling the rough stubble on his neck and smelling his Yardly aftershave) as he swam across the river at the dining cabin. My cousin Chris and I canoed down from Stephans bridge often but once we met Trish Hayes and another blond girl on our way down. I fell madly in love with that little blond girl but never saw her again, except in a few dreams. I was probably twelve. Chris always found friends on the river.

Grandma often had us clear rocks from her garden path and paid us a penny a rock. I played canasta with grandpa most every night for 1/10 of a cent a point. I always won or he let me win. I didn’t care at the time. I’ll always remember him yelling “YIP” with delight when he had a red three and collected 100 points. I would have to excuse myself to organize my cards on the window seat at the end of the Main cabin living room. I would always hold my cards to the end and call “canasta” all of a sudden, catching grandpa by surprise. He would then take me back to his safe and give me several crisp unused one dollar bills.

Grandma always read to me. She made Christopher Robin, Winnie the Pooh, and Alice in Wonderland seem like real people. They were my friends. She would play classical music and sing. I remember the fishing log and the old whaling log books. Tying flies that would never catch a fish, the dark river at night and the gloop of a fish rising unseen. The chipmunks, the tapping of woodpeckers and Bucky our pet deer and the sadness we felt upon hearing he’d been killed.

I remember being sent out with Bonnie and Butch Borchers to pick wild blueberries. Somehow my bucket had more leaves and twigs than berries and Bonnie’s bucket was full to overflowing, each berry perfect. I remember getting into trouble. I was probably goofing off when I should have been picking. I remember fishing among the trees across from the Boy’s Cabin. The current wasn’t too strong and there were always fish rising there. Never caught anything, though. I caught my first fish right off the main cabin dock. I remember my first guided fishing trip. One of the Wakeley boys (18) was my guide. I felt like a man, a real big shot. Didn’t catch anything as I remember but a really big one got away. I remember the huge infestation of green worms.

I don’t ever remember sleeping better than I did at Ginger Quill. Probably the cool nights, comforting surrounding, soothing sounds, the hard work and play each day or maybe the sense of love and peace.

On occasion I went fishing with Dad. I sat in the center of the boat in a specially-made boat seat with a back support. I don’t remember fishing much nor do I remember Dad catching many fish. I do remember sandwiches, soup and cookies though. I remember peeing over the side of the boat into the river. Everyone did that. So I thought. One day when several of the women saw us off at Stephans bridge, I had to go to the bathroom, so I started peeing off the bank into the river. I was unceremoniously grabbed and carried, trailing urine, to a nearby bush. I didn’t understand why it was OK some of the time and not others, but the point had been made.

I remember our caretakers, the Borchers — the large woman named Zoe with her friendly smile and bright demeanor and her husband, Al, who was somber and stern, along with their children, Bonnie, and her kid brother, Butch.

Butch could cast a fly line like a grown man and didn’t think much of our skills. Bonnie was smart and more mature than I. Her parents were very strict with her. She was a talented accordion player. Zoe and the kids were very Catholic. Al was not. I remember seeing Al in the hospital when he was dying of cancer. He was so thin Zoe could pick him up with one hand. He converted to Catholicism just before he died so his funeral was a high Catholic Mass. We all went but of course were lost because it was very long and all in Latin. We joked about the priest saying his father played dominoes, or what sounded like that. I remember feeling very sad.

My closest high school friends Buzz Berger, Jim Knake and Mike Gruber and I took a one-week canoe trip every high school summer from Ray’s in Grayling down to the back waters. We had tents and sleeping bags but spent at least four days in the “Boys Cabin.” We all became big smokers on those trips. I remember the caretaker coming in to check on us as four cigarette butts flew into the fireplace in formation — as if he cared if we smoked or not. Those were great trips. We slapped our paddles on the water just to make noise. Mike broke a paddle and tried to tell Ray’s that it had dry rot. Mike bought the paddle. We fished for breakfast but came away hungry. Those were great “coming of age” trips for us. Sleeping in wet sleeping bags after tipping over, waking up in a driving rain storm. Mosquitoes as big as humming birds and enough of them to carry us off. I remember seeing Buzz’s arm outside of his sleeping bag so covered with mosquitoes that you could hardly see his skin.

My first hunting trip was in the Ginger Quill woods. Grandma let us do it because she knew we wouldn’t hit anything. Dad and I went bow hunting for deer. Never even saw a deer. Probably making too much noise. Did take a shot at a flying squirrel though. I was shaking so much I missed him by three feet. Later that day we went partridge hunting with shotguns. Didn’t find any partridge but saw twenty deer. Last hunting trip of my life.

I remember the few times we went to Ginger Quill during the winter. We were up north skiing. I went once with Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Dwight, along with cousins Chris and Cathy. Another time Dad took us up with Andy the Swede, our exchange student that year. We drove to the corner store one cold wintry day and the road was packed solid with snow and ice. When we got on the main road Dad started showing off and tried to scare us by jerking the wheel and sliding a little. We slid a lot and got stuck in a snow bank for two hours.

The main cabin lacked insulation so the fireplace and heater had to work hard to keep us warm. The river was magnificent. This river was like a black ribbon slicing through the snow-covered landscape. The snow was perfect, covering every inch of the ground in a pure white blanket. The evergreens burdened with their heavy load of snow still stood full upright with contrasting dark green and white and the hardwoods stood naked, small patches of snow clinging to their branches. And still the steady roar of the river brought the water right up to the snow’s edge. Everything was either land or water, even man made structures. The dock, save its lack of trees, was just another part of the riverbank. Of course we ran all over and messed it up.

My college fraternity (TKE) formal was held at Ginger Quill. It’s a faint memory now but I do remember it was unlike any other formal before and since. It was my senior year at Alma and we wanted something unusual. There were probably a hundred college students doing all the things college students did back then and loving it. We pulled all the furniture back in the Main Cabin and created a dance floor. We snuggled by a warm fire and we drank beer. We necked in the woods until the mosquitoes got to us and we sang on the dock to canoers who paddled by. In the end they cleaned up and put everything back where it belonged. I remember my cousin Jill down on the dock singing “howja, howja, howja like ta bite…..” although that could be one of those memories that comes from hearing about it and not actually having been there.

More recently my wife Kathy and I were on the river. We stayed at Gates’ but waded from Ghoul’s Hole to Wakeley’s and the next day canoed from Burton’s Landing down to Wakeley’s. On our canoe trip we met one of the new owners of Ginger Quill. They invited us in and we spent the night there. It was an overwhelmingly emotional experience. Much had changed, but the spirit is still there. People are still being touched and they are caring for it. I feel blessed to have had Kathy with me to share the visit, as she had never seen Ginger Quill when we owned it. We didn’t sleep as well as I had remembered, but I was pretty emotional. We stayed in the corner bedroom at the end of the living room.

The sounds and smells were the same.

I swear I heard Grandpa yell “Yip.”

The Meridian Boundary Fire (Photo: MDNR)

The Michigan DNR has reported on the current state of efforts to battle and contain the two wildfires threatening areas around some of Michigan’s most prized and familiar trout fishing territories.

The MDNR is listing the larger of the two fires, the Meridian Boundary fire, as contained but not under control. The fire has burned approximately 7520 acres at this point in an area adjoining the South Branch of the Au Sable River, south of M-72, in South Branch Township. The MDNR has confirmed that a number of homes have been lost to the fire, but so far no reports of injuries or deaths. M-18 is currently closed from M-72 down to the Roscommon County line.

The fires has been moving south with the wind through the jackpines. The north line is said to be more under control, though the fire has come within one-half mile of the Mason Tract Chapel. The MDNR reports as well that the cause of the fire was burning debris.

The Range 9 fire is located in Kalkaska county on land adjoining the Manistee River south of Portage Creek. Reports are that that fire is contained and mostly extinguished. It has burned approximately 1040 acres. That fire started out as a controlled burn on a Camp Grayling artillery range. There are reports that the fire has destroyed some homes in the area.

Didymosphenia, or Didymo for short, is a beautiful and rather large diatom. Diatoms are a type of algae that grow on all sorts of substrates in a stream; they produce oxygen during photosynthesis, thereby sustaining aquatic life. Many diatoms have specific habitat requirements and have been used as indicators of water quality over the years. Finding Didymo in a water sample has traditionally meant that the lake or river was oligotrophic: very cold and clean, with very little available nutrients. Finding Didymo today might signal alarm.

Didymo occurs naturally across the northern hemisphere, typically in high altitude streams, but has recently started to flourish in a number of atypical environments. Scientists are monitoring stretches of rivers in Colorado, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Oregon, North Dakota, Vancouver Island, parts of Europe, and most recently, New Zealand. Established Didymo populations in some watersheds have completely covered rocks and plants, often for 10-20 km or more, effectively taking over an entire riverbed.

To understand how a microscopic alga can consume a river bottom, consider how Didymosphenia grows. Diatoms are constructed like tiny glass boxes; when they reproduce vegetatively, the frustules (or the lid and bottom of the box) divide. Each frustule produces a new half, resulting in two new ‘boxes’ or complete diatoms. Each time Didymo divides, it also exudes a mucilaginous stalk, which can be hundreds of times the length of an individual frustule. In places where Didymo colonies grow rampantly, the appearance and texture becomes quite gross. “The stuff is really slimy, at least on the top layer,” says Rex Lowe, diatom specialist from Bowling Green State University. “But the stalks are rather tough and cottony when pulled off a rock. When you step on it, the top is slippery but it squishes down, similar to stepping on an outdoor carpet.” Because the stalks are non-photosynthetic, they can take on a whitish appearance. “The stalks make up most of the density of the colony. They dry out almost like paper – in fact, where Didymo colonies have dried out (post high water mark), they look like toilet paper or cardboard along the stream.” The stalks are resistant to decomposition, so there is no odor to the algal mat, but because of the resemblance to toilet paper, it can appear that a river has sewage discharge problem.

Dr. Lowe is currently involved with BioSecurity New Zealand, where Didymo, or ‘rock snot’ as it is called down-under, has launched a significant invasion. Didymo first appeared in 2004 and has since then rapidly colonized ten rivers. How did it get there? More than likely it arrived by trout anglers. “There is just a steady torrent of trout fishermen going over to New Zealand,” says Dr. Lowe. “If they’re from western states and they don’t clean their boots, they are going to be carrying microbes.” New Zealand scientists have taken an extremely aggressive approach to minimizing the spread of the diatom: initially they closed many rivers, actually posting personnel to prevent physical access. Presently, they are considering ways to chemically control the invasion, using chlorine or copper sulfate. “I would think that the most ‘hopeful’ thing is to let it run its course, and then become controlled naturally by a virus or bacteria.” Dr. Lowe compares the New Zealand invasion to a similar event that occurred on Vancouver Island. There, Didymo populations exploded for about 10 years. Since then they have dropped back naturally, not unlike other boom and bust cycles that typify invaders.

But what everyone really wants to know is what is causing Didymo to suddenly bloom? A number of theories have emerged, including increased ultraviolet light and global warming. Dr. Lowe, however, feels that the sudden spread is due to a genetic variant. “On Vancouver Island, the diatom was reported in the late 1800’s; it didn’t explode until the mid-1990’s and their streams have not undergone any dramatic changes. In New Zealand, there wasn’t much diatom growth at all and now suddenly Didymo is there and doing really well.” In other words, Didymosphenia seems to have mutated just enough to radically widen its once narrow environmental window.

Here in the states, Sarah Spaulding of the Environmental Protection Agency is closely monitoring the spread of Didymo. Currently, the diatom seems to be confined to the west, with recent reports confirmed in North Dakota, Oregon, and Wyoming. According to Dr. Spaulding, “There has been little scientific research on the fallout of this invasion, in terms of the insect life and fisheries.” The stalks seem to present most of the problem. As the colonies become dense, fine sediments are trapped in them, excluding typical grazers (i.e., mayflies, caddisflies, etc.). Chironomids seem to like the mats, and data indicate increased populations in streambeds overcome with Didymo. No one has looked at long-term effects on the fisheries however. “The Federation of Fly Fishers has shown great interest in the spread of Didymo,” says Dr. Spaulding. “In fact, they are cosponsoring a symposium with the EPA and the American Fisheries Society.” The symposium will address the science of the diatom, its growth and spread, and its overall impact on the entire watershed.

Didymo has yet to be reported in the Midwest, but an ounce of prevention beats the cure. Fly fishers travel from one stream to another, often tossing wet waders and boots into a plastic bag or storage container. Diatoms and other microorganisms are capable of surviving quite a while, as long as they have some moisture. Since it only takes one live cell to start a colony, the potential exists to transport Didymo to new streams. According to Spaulding, anglers can prevent the spread by cleaning and treating boots and waders. Scrubbing in hot water and then soaking for a few minutes in a bleach solution (1/2 cup in a 2 gallon bucket) will kill the diatom as well as other organisms (think zebra mussels for starters). It is important to not allow the cells to wash down the drain, as then they are directed right into the watershed. Alternatively, boots and waders can be completely dried for at least 48 hours. Any area that can harbor trapped moisture, however, can also harbor the diatom, so chemical treatment is preferred.

For information on the symposium, contact Spaulding.sarah@epa.gov or visit www.fisheries.org/AFSmontana or www.epa.gov/Region8/water. To report suspected Didymo colonies, collect material in a clean, stoppered vial. Send materials to Sarah Spaulding with exact location of collection site (refer to her email for additional instructions).

Michael Delp is a writer of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction whose works have appeared in numerous national publications. He is the author of Over the Graves of Horses (1989), Under the Influence of Water (1992), The Coast of Nowhere (1997), and The Last Good Water (2003), in addition to six chapbooks of poetry. His latest work, As If We Were Prey, is now available. He teaches creative writing at the Interlochen Arts Academy and has received several awards for his teaching. More about his work is available at his website.

He uses his body like a sextant, charts the stars at night,
imagines his voice coming from the bottom of the river,
prowls the swamps with his eyes closed, casting into dark pockets,
the fish swarming in the half light seeping from his skin.

He is true only to himself.
He knows no speeches, has no platform.
His eyes are clear pools, his head a seething
universe of emergence schedules,
the secrets of nymphs, that single language
coming from cold springs in the hills,
each one a wild heart pumping the wisdom of iron
into the river.

Michael Delp is a writer of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction whose works have appeared in numerous national publications. He is the author of Over the Graves of Horses (1989), Under the Influence of Water (1992), The Coast of Nowhere (1997), and The Last Good Water (2003), in addition to six chapbooks of poetry. His latest work, As If We Were Prey, is now available. He teaches creative writing at the Interlochen Arts Academy and has received several awards for his teaching. More about his work is available at his website.

Trout Unlimited (TU), the Pigeon River Country Association, Golden Lotus, Inc. (the owners of the dam) and the Michigan Department of Natural Resources and Environment signed an interim order, resolving litigation from the June 2008 accidental release of sediment from the Golden Lotus Dam which resulted in a fish kill in the river.  The MDNRE, TU and PRCA entered into litigation against Golden Lotus following the incident.

“All parties to the litigation have been working towards an agreement that would put aside the litigation and focus resources on helping the Pigeon River.  Golden Lotus’ desire the do what was best for the river and its aquatic life was instrumental in reaching this agreement.  This agreement will protect the river from similar incidents in the future while allowing it to become healthier than it has ever been,” said Bryan Burroughs, Executive Director of Michigan TU.

The Pigeon River is one of Michigan’s most popular trout streams. Flowing 43 miles from Gaylord to Mullet Lake, the river has been altered by the dam since it was created over 100 years ago.  Dams disrupt the natural flow of water, sediment, nutrients and organisms in rivers and often warm water temperatures, past the ideal range for trout and other coldwater fishes.  Removal of this dam is expected to greatly improve the trout fishery for nearly 20 miles downstream of the dam.   The Pigeon River is home to wild brook trout, brown trout and rainbow trout.  “This is a great day for coldwater conservation, our natural resources and the trout in the Pigeon River”, said John Walters, president of the local Headwaters TU chapter.

TU became involved in the litigation to help ensure protection and restoration of the Pigeon River. Negotiations had been underway since 2008.  TU has wanted to remove the dam in the river, to improve conditions for trout and to prevent future dam-related events from occurring.  TU was able to help provide critical assistance with, and information for this dam removal, which facilitated the negotiation process.

Peter Gustafson, trout angler and past chair of the Pigeon River Country Citizens Advisory Council, provided legal representation for Michigan TU and the Pigeon River Country Association.  “Pete provided valuable assistance with the legal proceedings, but his contributions toward facilitating a successful negotiation was truly invaluable,” said Burroughs.

The dam removal planning process will begin immediately, while the actual removal of the dam is expected to be conducted gradually over several years to reduce further impacts on the river. All parties to the agreement will continue working in coordination on the dam removal planning.  MITU will continue to provide updates on this project via its website, magazines and emails.

Trout Unlimited is North America’s leading coldwater fisheries conservation organization, with 7,000 members in Michigan and 140,000 members dedicated to conserving, protecting, and restoring North America’s coldwater fisheries and their watersheds.