Nels Kramer knew the day would come. He had said as much three years ago, when the first Northern pike was discovered in Pushaw Lake.

Still, as the longtime state fisheries biologist stood next to the West Enfield Dam on Friday morning – ground zero in the latest battle with non-native fish species – he found it difficult to treat the developments of the last month as anything other than what they are.

The latest evidence of a natural resources atrocity.

“The last time you and I talked about pike it was 2003, and we were on the banks of Pushaw Lake, talking about the kind of impact pike would have on Pushaw,” Kramer said, summing up our conversation aptly.

Back then, Kramer and I had gone out on the state’s electro-fishing boat in search of pike, hoping for a miracle neither of us expected.

Down deep, however, we knew the truth: The pike that had been illegally introduced into that suburban Bangor lake were swimming free … and there was little anyone could do to keep them from reproducing and spreading.

“Here we are, three years later, 30 miles upstream, and now we’re talking about trying to limit their expansion,” Kramer said. “So probably our worst fears have come true.”

All thanks to one thoughtless act.

The pike did reproduce. They did spread. And a few weeks back, two unconfirmed reports made their way to Kramer’s Enfield office: A pike had been caught in the Stillwater River, near Orono … then another was caught in the Piscataquis, just below the dam in Howland.

All of a sudden, the “eventual” spread of pike into the Penobscot River watershed was more than a mere threat, even without confirmation.

It was real.

Kramer of the Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife, Richard Dill and other staffers of the Maine Atlantic Salmon Commission, and representatives from Pennsylvania Power & Light, the company that owns several dams on the Penobscot, hastily arranged a meeting to discuss options.

Steve Michaud, the plant manager at the West Enfield dam, said it didn’t take long to fashion a temporary solution on his dam’s fishway.

“Two weeks ago we were called,” Michaud said. “We were asked to close our fishway that day, and we did, that day. That was a Friday afternoon. By Tuesday of that next week we had a system in place to prevent [pike] from passing our facility.”

Michaud said when the West Enfield Dam was built in the late 1980s, the state-of-the-art fishway cost $4.5 million.

The threat of pike heading upstream and getting to into the upper reaches of the Penobscot made that efficient fish passage too efficient, and he and the other groups got to work.

The solution: “We had to do some slight design modifications,” Michaud said. “We added some steel plates and a 10 x 10 beam … and we turned the water back on.”

The modifications created what Michaud calls “The pike dike,” a small waterfall in one of the chambers of the fishway that is theoretically impossible for a pike to pass.

Atlantic salmon are jumpers, and have proven able to leap over the makeshift waterfall. Pike don’t jump … and are stuck below the dam.

Maine Game Warden Ron Dunham, who is among the folks trying to stop the illegal fish stocking in the state, said his department is still hoping to identify the person who dropped pike into Pushaw, putting an entire watershed at risk.

“It’s like an epidemic in this state right now. People are being pretty selfish when they change the ecosystem,” Dunham said.

“It causes irreparable damage and it’s going to impact us for years to come, and probably forever,” he said.

Kramer said that without modifications to the Howland and West Enfield dams, about 3,500 miles of brooks, streams and rivers, along with 30,000 acres of lakes and ponds were at risk.

Now, they’re not … for now.

Dunham figures somebody, somewhere, knows something about this illegal stocking, or another similar act. He said the warden service is conducting random road checks this summer, and if anyone is caught transporting live fish in a boat’s live well or a cooler, they can expect to be prosecuted vigorously.

“We’re taking this very seriously,” Dunham said.

As they should.

As Kramer pointed out, the result of the Pushaw pike introduction will continue to cost the state’s taxpayers dearly, even if pike are prevented from heading farther upstream than they already have.

“Now we’re still trying to deal with the problem in Pushaw and in the lower part of the river,” Kramer said. “That’s not going to be cheap, and it’s not going to be easy, but it’s something we have to do.”

Kramer said the state has posted signs at Pushaw, as well as up and down the Penobscot, informing anglers of the possible presence of pike.

Anyone who catches a fish they think may be a pike should kill the fish and call the DIF&W, he said.

On Friday – a beautiful Maine summer day, with sunny skies, a brisk cool breeze blowing off the river – Kramer stood near the dam that symbolizes this latest fight with a less-than-sunny look on his face.

“This is going to be something that [fisheries] managers will be dealing with for the next 100 years,” Kramer said. “This is forever. There’s no going back.”

Pike or pickerel?

So, you spend a fair amount of time fishing on the Penobscot, and you want to follow Kramer’s advice and eradicate the pike you find.

The problem many anglers seem to face is a pretty fundamental one: They’re not exactly sure what a pike looks like … or how to tell the difference between a pike and a pickerel.

Kramer says it’s not that difficult to tell the two species apart.

Step one: Look just below the fish’s eye. If you see a black mark stretching down from the eye, it’s a pickerel.

Step two: Look even more closely.

“Pike have a dark background with light, kind of bean-[shaped] spots along their sides,” Kramer says. “Pickerel, on the other hand, are a light-colored background with dark, chain-like markings. Once you see a pike, it’s very apparent that you’re looking at something other than a pickerel.”

When and if you do catch a pike in the Penobscot watershed, remember: Kramer and his crew want to talk to you. You can reach them at 732-4131.

Veazie trap count nears 1,000

Twice a day during the spring and summer months, staffers from the Maine Atlantic Salmon Commission tend the fish trap at the Veazie Dam and document their catch.

Down river a few hundred yards, chances are good that there’s somebody sitting at the Veazie Salmon Club, eagerly waiting to find out how the day’s run has been.

Before heading ashore to measure and tag each fish, an ASC staffer climbs to the top of the dam, digs through a pile of wooden number placards, and updates the tote board, which can then be read by the veteran salmon anglers who may be drinking a cup of coffee or playing a game of cards with their longtime fishing buddies.

With the first Atlantic salmon season on the Penobscot since 1999 looming (anglers can try their luck from Sept. 15 until Oct. 15), it seems that the current run of salmon will continue a steady string of solid returns to the river.

According to Gayland Hachey’s Web site, 933 salmon had returned to the Veazie Dam trap as of July 5. The proprietor of Hachey’s Fly Shop in Veazie says that’s up from the 812 that returned by the same date a year ago, but fewer than the 1,011 recorded by July 5 in 2004.

In all, 1,323 adult salmon were counted at the Veazie Dam trap during the 2004 season. That total was the highest since 1997.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 1-800-310-8600 or 990-8214.