My sister, Sue, was feeling grumpy. The mess of a kitchen remodel can do that to a person. It wasn’t a full remodel. Still, replacing the countertops and taking out the sink disrupted the normal running of her kitchen. And my sister likes a neat kitchen.
So she called me. “Let’s go for a walk,” she said. It had been rainy off and on all day, but the weather report predicted the same thing for the rest of the week. Waiting wouldn’t help. So we threw our raincoats in our cars and met at Carkeek Park.
Sue likes to keep up on the “What’s Happening” articles in the local newspapers, so she planned our walk to coincide with the annual return of the salmon to the place of their birth (hatching?)
She wasn’t the only one who kept up on “what’s happening.” The parking places at the park were almost full despite the dreary weather. No one was picnicking or down at the beach. They were all standing along the banks of Pipers Creek, holding their cameras with long lenses and their kids.
How nice! I thought. They’re bringing their children out to learn about nature. From creekside, people cheered for the salmon as they flapped their tails and hurled themselves up and over obstacles, and they cried out in dismay when the current pushed the salmon back to where they started.
After a while, I began to change my mind. This drama I was watching was sad: the poor fish fighting so hard to make their way up the stream to find the place where they will dig a gravel nest with their tail, lay their eggs, and then die. Besides, there were already some dead fish on the banks, and they weren’t even very far up the creek.
That’s life, you could say—the circle of life. The poor fish lives and then it dies.
On the other hand, we can applaud the fact that life goes on. The salmon bravely fights the current and the rocks and fallen trees so it can spawn. And it doesn’t give up, not until it has provided for the next generation. Then, with not an ounce of strength left, it lies down and dies.
Sue and I continued up the trail, stopping at various vantage points until the rain changed from sprinkles to real rain. Then we got in our cars and drove to Café Diva for a latte for Sue and a soy chai latte for me.
For a more complete story about the salmon in Pipers Creek, check out the slide show on this link. The sad news is that the last wild pair of salmon seen spawning in Pipers Creek was in 1927. The good news is that in 1979, the community, government, and Suquamish Tribe began working together to bring them back. It’s not an easy task, and there’s still lots to do.
I suppose it’s all in the perspective. I suppose our life is the same. We’re born, do our “thing” in this life, procreate (most of us), watch our little ones fly out of the nest, try to still swim upstream even though the journey gets harder, and sooner than we think, we’re gone. Is that depressing? Well, as you say, it’s nature and the way of things. I really like your post. It’s positive and gloomy at the same time. Reality is, sometimes, but that’s okay. We can find the joy as we’re swimming in life.
I guess the fish made me kind of philosophical in a rainy-day-sort-of way. Another thought: Everything is beautiful just by the fact of its existence. This Thanksgiving we found that we had so many things to be thankful for that by the time we finished going around the table, it was time for dessert.
Nicki, an aptly titled post … bittersweet indeed! It must have been incredible to see the salmon so close but then sobering to think that at the end of their trials upstream is death. It is obviously of a lot of interest to people of the area which is good and that so many enjoy an outing! Always cosy to finish a grey wet day in a cafe to warm up and reflect upon the day! Hope you have a lovely weekend! Annika
Here in the Pacific Northwest, we’ve been talking about the degradation of the salmon runs for a long time. When only the Native Americans lived here, there were more salmon than they knew what to do with. That all changed with the coming of the White Man. Have a wonderful weekend, Annika.
Nature can be cruel. Hard not to reflect on a moment like that, but perhaps they were not “suffering” like we think of it, but running on instinct.
I’m sure you’re right, Lani. They were running on instinct. Maybe it’s also a metaphor for our lives, the sadness of death and the beauty of our care not only for our children but also for life and its continuation.
Thanks for sharing these photos. It *is* bittersweet. I do find it fascinating how salmon can navigate back to the same location.
It’s hard to watch the struggle, I think. (Unless you’re a sadist, maybe.) The urge to help fellow creatures is really, really strong.
It struck me, though, that the onlookers seemed to look at what they were seeing as merely a learning-about-nature outing. And I do agree that the spawning of the salmon is an interesting drama … until you stop and think about it.
It is kind of sad!
Sad and brave. Life goes on thanks to the sacrifices of parents.
Interesting story, both of your sister’s ability to find something good to do and of the plight of the salmon. Life can be joyful and tragic all at once, I guess.
My sister’s counter and sink are in now, but she has one important drawer that won’t open. She’s waiting for someone to come back and fix it. I guess we all need to have a stock of ways to get ourselves through difficult periods.
There’s an old bittersweet story about the Louis and Clark expedition and salmon. By the time they reached Oregon, they were hungry. So, they chowed down on salmon and ended up sick. It’s thought that they ate too much of a rich food that their systems weren’t used to. They thought it was poisoned and stopped eating it.
I need someone like Sue in my life who encourages me to go on adventures!
What great photos!
The salmon story is heartbreaking. But I’m glad to hear about efforts to bring them back.
Yes. Especially now, when we’re so used to staying home because of COVID, some of us need to be encouraged to get out of the house.
We talk about the salmon a lot in this part of the country. And I love eating salmon, plus it’s healthy. But narrowing the story down to this particular city creek, really helped me realize how many things need to be improved if we want to save them.
I feel the same way about the poor salmon, Nicki. I guess Mother Nature isn’t always fair in our eyes!
I suppose we tend to look at the brave salmon’s struggles as a metaphor for our own lives. On the other hand, I have no sympathy for a mosquito or a cockroach when I kill it.