"The local Value Village store found a live lamprey in
their parking lot," ADF&G reported on its Facebook page. "Another
resident called and said he found one on his lawn!"
It was surely a scary surprise. Looking more like eels or
snakes than regular fish, lampreys don't have scales or fins and can grow to 15
inches long. Instead of jaws, an adult lamprey has a disk-like mouth filled
with small, sharp teeth.
Adults clamp their mouths onto other fish, then use their
teeth and tongues to rasp through its scales and skin to feed on its blood and
fluids. The lamprey releases and drops off after the meal. Some fish die from
the attacks, but in many cases they survive, according to the Fish and Game
department.
"Commercial and subsistence fishers throughout Alaska
are quite familiar with the tell-tale, dime-sized circular scars on salmon and
trout that have been fed upon by lampreys." Reportedly, lampreys are a tasty
catch in their own right.
Needless to say, the fish is not usually found on land. In
fact, most people have never seen the elusive fish up close. Lampreys are born
in fresh water, then move to the ocean as adults. They return to their rivers
of birth to spawn, including the Chena River, which runs along the south side
of Fairbanks.
Wildlife officials believe sea gulls are picking up the
squirmy fish there, only to drop them later in surprising and unlikely places.
So far, four lamprey have been found on land.
Oregon City, Oregon - They dove into the cold waters,
emerging with writhing, eel-like fish in hand and thrusting them into nets.
Thus began Northwest Native American tribes' annual lampreyharvest at a rushing, 40-foot waterfall about
15 miles south of Portland.
The jawless, gray fish are a traditional food source for
tribal members in the Columbia River Basin, which stretches from the Oregon
coast to Canada and into Idaho, Montana and Washington. Lampreys grow to about
2 feet long and are prized for their rich, fatty meat.
On Friday, adults, teens and children from the Umatilla and
Warm Springs reservations in Oregon and the Yakama reservation in Washington
crawled over slippery rocks and waded through icy pools to reach the lampreys'
hiding spots. The fish latch onto rocks in Willamette Falls with their round,
toothy mouths.
"Our people have always come here, generation after
generation," said Bobby Begay, a Warm Springs tribal member who drove more
than a 100 miles to the falls from his village of Celilo.
Begay, 46, has attended the harvest for more than 40 years.
He is teaching his children and nephews how to navigate the rocks and where to
find the biggest catch.
"The same fishing holes my grandfather showed me, his
father and grandfather showed him, and I showed my kids," he said.
Lampreys taste best when roasted over an open fire, Begay
said. They also can be dried or frozen for later use. The fish harvested this
month will be distributed to tribal elders and used for ceremonial purposes, he
said.
In previous generations, lampreys were abundant up and down
the Columbia River and its tributaries. Biologists have estimated at least a
million once were crossing Bonneville Dam on the Columbia east of Portland.
But their numbers have dwindled over the past 30 years
because of the dams and toxins such as pesticides. About 20,000 remain, said
Brian McIlraith with the Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fish Commission.
Willamette Falls is the last place where the fish can be
caught by the hundreds.
Tribes have been instrumental in advocating for lamprey
restoration, and the government has started paying attention. That's because
lampreys also offer an alternate food source for sea lions and other predators
that otherwise would be munching on threatened salmon.
Tribes have received funding and run research and recovery
projects. They truck lampreys past dams and have pushed for construction of
ramps to help the fish navigate the structures.
They're also looking at breeding lampreys in a hatchery,
but that's not the preferred method, said tribal elder Donnie Winishut Sr., who
observed the harvest to assure safety.
"We would rather see them grow in a natural way,"
Winishut said. "It's good to see the young people coming to the falls and
learning our tradition, and I hope they can continue coming here to catch the
fish."
