It’s been a hell of a few weeks here in southwest Montana. The news of the Yellowstone closure is becoming international — I spent a few days last week on assignment shooting photos for a major U.S. paper and subsequently has phone calls from contacts in Europe wanting images. It’s a story; a story taking place in our backyard.
As with most any story, any news piece, there is a lot of anger here right now. From guides, outfitters, fly shops, recreational anglers… perhaps, interestingly enough, from visiting, non-local recreational anglers. The move to close the river was, in my humble opinion, very much the right call, though I’m still seeing Instagram images of people letting their dogs play and frolic in the river.
Common sense can be hard to come by these days, I guess.
Bottom line: yes, it’s a tough situation. Yes, there is a lot of anger and frustration being expressed. And, yes, it’s a waiting game right now.
It’s small-scale in the midst of what we’re seeing in the world these days, but one of the things that has stuck with me about this debacle is the fact I keep hearing the phrase “it’s just whitefish.” Just whitefish; if it’s not a trout who cares? And, for that matter, one drunken gem of a college kid expounded the other day, who cares about the little trout, right? He’s only after the big boys anyway. (Obviously he missed the class where they talked about how little fish grow into big fish eventually.)
Let’s pause and take a look at the whitefish. The native. Natives of any kind — people included — are becoming all too rare in Montana. I don’t know how many guide friends over the years have commented about the humble whitefish saving their guide day.
Rough day in the boat (or have a client that can’t cast to save their lives)? The odds are a whitefish will be willing to play, and — you know what — odds are the client will be pretty damn happy with that whitefish. There are a lot of young kids whose fishing days have been saved by whities, and their smiles are just as big as if it had been a trout.
Whitefish are often one of the first species to suffer in an unhealthy river system. They’re our coal-mine canary if you will. Think about that for a minute. Deep in the recesses of the dark mine, you don’t want to just dismiss your canary out of hand, do you? That canary takes on a lot more value when you think of it as a tool.
I’m aware there may likely be some blow-back from this post. That’s okay. Because #whitefishlivesmatter.
