A tale of chestnuts and trout

Few people alive today remember American chestnut trees spreading across the forest landscape almost a century ago. Venerable monarch of the forest, the American chestnut was greatly revered by our forefathers. Early American furniture and musical instrument craftsmen found the wood easily worked, rich in color, with fine straight grain. As rot resistant as redwood, durable chestnut shingles and roofs shed rain and snow. Chestnut split-rail fences enclosed livestock.

Chestnut trees once comprised 25 percent of the hardwood forest. Their springtime bloom turned the landscape creamy-white. Their nuts provided forage for many wildlife species from wild turkey to bear.

My father knew the American chestnut. He was born in 1906, just after the chestnut blight appeared as a cankerlike growth on several trees in the Bronx Zoo. Presumably introduced to the U.S. on infected imported nursery stock, within a half century the blight eliminated the chestnut, transformed the forest, affected wildlife populations and damaged the economy.

Having occupied 200 million acres of the Appalachian range, has the American chestnut faded into oblivion? Not quite yet, perhaps. Heroic efforts are under way to establish nurseries of painstakingly developed blight-resistant hybrid trees that are slowly being introduced in the eastern states. Perhaps in 2200 or so, the gracious American chestnut will regain its place in the American natural heritage.

Chestnut trees and brook trout share a common history. For several million years, one of America’s most beautiful freshwater fish, Eastern brook trout once flourished in the primeval rivers and lakes of the Appalachians ranging from Ohio to Georgia. As mile-high glaciers melted 12,000 years ago, trout colonized every newly sculpted stream and lake in New York and New England. Kept shaded and cool by American chestnut forests, the fish remained abundant in the east until European settlers arrived.

The new Americans’ priorities were measured by acres of farm land cleared, board feet harvested, dams constructed, and tons of ore mined to fuel the industrial revolution. By the 19th century rivers and streams became convenient waste disposal systems for untreated industrial and municipal pollution. By the 20th century, much of the remaining viable trout habitat was sacrificed to urban and suburban sprawl.

Like the glaciers that shaped their habitat, the trout began to melt away. The sad news is that only remnant vulnerable trout habitat remains in 19 eastern states.

The good news is that 97 percent of the remaining intact Eastern brook trout lakes and ponds are in Maine. Merely a handful of lakes in Vermont, New York, and New Hampshire have naturally reproducing trout populations. In contrast, Maine is blessed with 305 lakes and ponds that have never been stocked with non-native trout. These waters are now given special conservation protections. And nearly an equal number of lakes and ponds in Maine are home to “wild” trout. These too deserve similar protections. Hatchery fish have not been stocked there for over 25 years.

About 10 percent of Maine’s 6,000 lakes and ponds are home to our native and wild trout, along with hundreds of miles of streams and rivers. This may seem like an ample supply, but it means we’ve lost 90 percent. And unfortunately Maine is not immune to habitat degradation and decline. We’ve lost and will continue to lose the Eastern brook trout range here in Maine unless anglers, conservationists, forest managers, state agencies and outdoor recreation tourism interests work cooperatively to enhance and improve the quantity and quality of Maine’s all-too-rare trout resource.

Damage to the landscape, such as stream sedimentation caused by poor harvesting and development practices, degrades water quality and spawning areas. More worrisome are biological threats caused by introduced and invasive species that compete with the native and wild trout.

For example, in 1958 Montana allowed the introduction of some Danish fish produced in a Pennsylvania hatchery. Unfortunately the non-native fish carried the whirling disease parasite to Montana’s world-renowned rainbow trout fishery on the Madison River. By 1994, it saw a 90 percent reduction in fish populations.

It is virtually impossible to restore a trout river or lake to its former condition once predatory fish are introduced. For example, muskellunge, known as the “water wolf,” were accidentally introduced to the St. John River via a stream connection to a Canadian lake that had been stocked with Muskies. Once regarded as a premier trout fishing destination, St. John anglers report a dramatic trout decline. Reckless “bucket biologists” are credited with introducing smallmouth bass to Umbagog Lake in the 1980s. The bass then moved upstream and were soon discovered feeding on brook trout. Maine’s famous Moosehead Lake, a once premier trout lake, now supports spawning populations of smallmouth bass.

Surely Maine does not want to see the Eastern brook trout go the way of the American chestnut. The heroic efforts to restore the American chestnut may one day produce incalculable economic, ecological, and social benefits to eastern states. Likewise, conserving, restoring and enhancing Maine’s brook trout habitat and rebuilding Maine’s reputation as a premier trophy fishing destination are in the best interests of Maine’s economy and quality of life.

Preventing the tragedy caused by introduced predatory species or diseased non-native fish requires farsighted consistent conservation management by state agencies, better education, and wider cooperation between sportsman groups. The goal to restore the American chestnut tree to its rightful place in the forest may actually be less daunting than the prospect of restoring the Eastern brook trout range once it’s degraded and invaded. An ounce of prevention now could yield substantial dividends to Maine in the future.

Ted Koffman, D.-Bar Harbor, represents District 35 in the Maine House of Representatives.