By Kristin Bigsby

At this time of year when Tommie Jimmie, Jr. was a young man, he often made his way to Chilkoot River to await the arrival of the eulachon. At the mouth of the river, he listened as seagulls screamed and sea lions barked, and watched as the marine creatures herded thousands of the up to 10-inch fish in the first feeding frenzy of spring.

The eulachon, a staple in the Tlingit subsistence diet, is prepared fresh, fried, boiled, smoked and frozen, but is prized for its oil–a nutritious commodity long used for bartering with tribes in the Interior and further south along the coast in exchange for game meat and other items.

Once, in the early 1970s, with all of his fishing equipment stashed in his car (he was ready to fish when the signs were right), Jimmie and a few friends arrived at the Chilkoot to find a collection of Native and non-Native people on the riverbank scooping up eulachon. The fish hadn’t traveled far enough up river to spawn, the traditional marker to begin dipping, he said.

"While we were standing there, I can remember feeling like if we don’t start fishing, we might miss out on the eulachon all together," Jimmie said. "But the timing wasn’t right. We knew if we disturb these fish right now, they’d decide not to go up the river, and maybe not return. From that point in time, I’ve seen the way we’ve fished the eulachon (as a community) become more and more disorganized."

Next week, or soon after, the eulachon should be ready for dipping along the Chilkat and Chilkoot rivers.

The eulachon run is the only fishery in Alaska not regulated by the state, but governed instead by tradition, Jimmie said. As years go by, though, there are fewer and fewer people familiar with the oral traditions of eulachon fishing, he said.

Phillip Jackson also grew up fishing for eulachon.

Both men have noticed a decrease in the size of the runs during their lifetimes.

They attribute the decline to increasing human activity in the rivers during the "critical" time the fish are migrating upriver.

This year, Jimmie is taking a proactive step to share traditional fishing guidelines with the community "to protect the future of the eulachon."

Three sets of two flags will be put up in three locations, including 7 Mile on the Haines Highway, near the culture camp at Chilkoot Lake, and at the Haines ANB Hall.

One flag will designate it’s not yet time to fish, and the other will give the go-ahead.

He’s planned for an unspecified number of "scouts"–some from the local fifth grade class–to broadcast live reports of the eulachons’ progress on local radio station KHNS, starting "whenever the runs grow close to the rivers, be it next week or after," Jimmie said. The exact times of the broadcasts have not yet been set.

A scouts’ orientation meeting is planned for later this week, when youth will be paired with adults in a sort of mentoring program, Jimmie said.

The idea of scouts isn’t new, he added.

"Within my life span, there were people that naturally filled those positions. There was a very natural way things would happen when eulachon were here. I still remember where (tribal members) would take rides out to Chilkoot State Park, then come back with reports on where (the eulachon) were at. No one had to say yes, now you can fish, no, now you can’t. There was an understood knowledge," Jimmie said.

"The seagulls are the ones who tell you they’re here," Jackson said. "When you see the gulls on the flats near Pyramid Island, when you see them congregating, you know the eulachon are on their way... My dad always told me once they got past 1 Mile—Jones Point—that meant it was time to go dip for them. On the Chilkoot, you wanted to let them get as far as the culture camp."

Herring in the canal are another sign that the eulachon are coming, Jimmie said.

This week, residents were scooping up herring at Mud Bay.

"The way this all came about was a few of us (locals) were brainstorming...about what we can do about the eulachon fishery," Jimmie said.

"The intention isn’t to be telling anybody what to do. Keeping the runs healthy...is going to require a community effort. There are a lot of people fishing whenever they want to, and I think unless we agree to work together then we’ll lose the fishery."

The last few years have not been very productive, Jackson said. Runs have been diverted to Taiyasanka Harbor because of what he believes to be a "lack of respect for the fish."

Aside from waiting for the proper cue to begin dipping, tradition asks that women do not participate directly in the netting of the fish and that dogs do not run about the riverside or enter the water, Jackson said.

"If we abide by these things, and use regular dip nets, we’ll ensure the eulachons will come back again," he said. "We’ve been doing it for years and years and years. You just don’t challenge history. It only happens once a year, between next week and the first two weeks of May. They’ve come a long way to spawn, and they should have that respect. A long time ago...the run was so thick you could walk right across the Chilkoot. They used to run the whole month of May."

According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game website, eulachon are one of five species of smelt found in Alaska. Because of their high oil content, they are also known as candlefish (traditionally they were used as a candle when dried and fitted with a wick). They spawn and hatch in fresh water and grow to maturity in the ocean, where they feed on krill. As spawning season approaches, they gather in large schools off the mouths of streams and rivers. "Upstream migration is closely keyed to the water temperature of the stream," the site says.

"We’re trying to discourage disturbing the water any more than you have to," Jimmie said. "When we were growing up, we were told not even to get into the water, especially bare footed...my grandfather used to say there’s something on the skin that’s coming off that eulachon are sensitive to. Mostly he would say eulachon are just really sensitive anyway."

While there is no official traditional ceremony for the coming of the eulachon, last Thursday a gathering at the ANB Hall acknowledged the fish and their importance in valley life.

"Our ceremony is when you share with your neighbor at the dipping grounds," Jackson said. "Being together is a ceremony of itself... We eat and share stories and fish."

Eulachon are tasty, said Jackson, who drinks a teaspoon of oil every day to "keep healthy, clean and strong."

Although, the oil’s not for everyone.

"I would compare it to cod liver oil," Jimmie said. "People’s palates would either appreciate it or not. I grew up with it and I still haven’t acquired a taste for it."

"It’s not enough just to think about our culture or learn about our culture from stories, but it’s also important that we live and develop a relationship with the land around us," he said. "In developing our own relationship, we really begin to understand and appreciate the importance of our people’s traditions and customs. Whatever we gather from this land, our water and rivers, our attitude is important."