Tim Ackerman says it’ll be a high tide, sometime in the next few weeks; first the gulls and sea lions will gather at the mouths of the Chilkat and Chilkoot, then the water will take on an unusual look in the light – calm spots, Ackerman says, and then oil slicks on the surface. On closer look, there’ll be a shimmering below the surface, of the million-some fish in the hooligan run being swept up the rivers.
“This is a flood of springtime food that has sustained the valley for hundreds of thousands of years,” Ackerman said. It’s a cycle of fish and marine life that stretches back long before there were humans. And a cycle of people fishing the run, spring after spring, stretching back millennia before European colonization in the Chilkat Valley.
But in recent years, the hooligan run has faced threats. Ackerman remembers a number of years, about a decade ago, when the fish just never came. The first year he’d watch for the telltale signs, but eventually he stopped looking. Until a year or two later, when all of a sudden someone saw them: the sea lions and gulls gathering to feed, the shimmering and slick water. For whatever reason, the run had returned.
Ackerman said the hooligan run moves according to a sensitive equilibrium. When water-temperature, hydrological, and predatory conditions are right, the hooligan arrive to spawn.
Because hooligan, unlike salmon, don’t necessarily return to their natal streams, a disturbance to that equilibrium can mean they simply go elsewhere. In recent years, Ackerman said, he thinks hooligan runs have been pushed away by berms built out into the Chilkat River and pile-driving underwater.
Recent research agrees with Ackerman on these threats. And along coastlines further south, in British Columbia, Washington and Oregon, communities have seen the spring hooligan run disappear altogether in the face of climate change, overfishing, and habitat loss.
In the Chilkat Valley, Tlingít communities have long-standing practices to sustain the run, including allowing the first mass of fish to pass through without being caught.
“The old timers said to allow them to go under the [Lutak] bridge before you jump in and start harvesting,” Ackerman said, noting that the first wave of fish that come in are generally females. “That ensures a good return for the following couple of years.”
For Chilkat Valley residents not part of the traditional harvest, Skeenyáa tláa said that means twofold responsibility when the run arrives this year: respect for Tlingít tradition, and preservation of the hooligan population.
“The modern perspective on hooligan harvest is one of entertainment value,” she said. “But I’m trying to honor my ancestors when I go out and harvest.”
Recognizing that Lingít residents are, as Skeenyáa tláa said, holding ceremony, might mean different behavior than what is generally acceptable on the shoreline. There are simple things people can do, Skeenyáa tláa said, including not leaving dog feces in or near the water, not playing loud music, and not throwing rocks into the water for the duration of the run. And for those not participating in the harvest, Skeenyáa tláa asks they give space.
For people actually catching hooligan, Skeenyáa tláa said that throwing the fish away is wanton waste. “The hooligan, our Tlingít values, our stewardship, they fit in the natural world,” Skeenyáa tláa said. “Our modern throwaway, capitalist society does not.”
And both Skeenyáa tláa and Ackerman emphasize to only take what you need. “You can catch five gallons in one throw,” said Ackerman. “That’ll last you for quite some time.”
Whether catching five gallons or none, residents of the Chilkat Valley will soon be able to see a distinct piece of the history of the land, and hopefully the future of it, too.
In the meantime, Ackerman will be watching his tide charts. He also has, quickly accessible, a picture of the run from a few years ago. In it, hooligan pass by the bridge, sunlight breaking across a mass of dorsal fins. He said it reminds him of a painting.
“This is nature’s masterpiece,” he said. “We’re just witnesses.”
This story is part of a series on food-gathering in the Chilkat Valley. Reach out to [email protected] with your hunting, foraging, harvesting, and growing activities. We’d love to tag along to learn about what you do and why you do it. And don’t worry, we’ll keep any secret techniques and locations confidential.