Preserving a giant

BONNERS FERRY – Chris Lewandowski pressed gently on the white sturgeon’s belly, forcing a stream of glistening black eggs through the ovarian duct. Jose Ponce caught the eggs in a stainless steel bowl and poured them into a Pyrex measuring cup. As caviar, they’d be worth hundreds of dollars per pound. But this sturgeon roe is destined for a higher purpose.

To the Kootenai Tribe of Idaho – the men’s employer – the eggs are priceless. They represent the next generation of white sturgeon for the Kootenai River.

Revered as spiritual messengers by the tribe, the sturgeon can live for a century and grow to 8 feet long. As recently as the 1970s, thousands of them lurked in the Kootenai River’s cool, gray-green depths. Now, fewer than 500 adults remain, and they’re federally protected under the Endangered Species Act.

“They’re magical and mysterious,” said Sue Ireland, the tribe’s fish and wildlife director. “You think about a fish that lives longer than humans. As a species, they’ve had the same strategy for survival for almost 250 million years. Then you look at the fact that we’ve changed things so much over the past 100 years that we’ve put them at risk.”

Each year, about 1 million sturgeon eggs are fertilized at the tribe’s hatchery. It’s a stopgap measure, designed to keep the Kootenai sturgeon from sliding into extinction until biologists figure out how to trigger natural reproduction.

Sturgeon haven’t reproduced successfully in the Kootenai River for more than 30 years. The species survived a mass extinction 65 million years ago that killed off the dinosaurs, but they were no match for the Libby Dam. Built in 1974 for flood control and power generation, the dam altered the river’s temperature, depth and flows.

Now, time is running out for the Kootenai sturgeon. Each year, the number of adults shrinks by about 9 percent.

“The predictions are that the wild fish will be extinct in the next five to 10 years,” said Noah Greenwald of the Center for Biological Diversity in Portland. “They can’t hang on much longer.”

At the hatchery, a female sturgeon lay on her back in a sling poised over a stock tank. Lewandowski, Ponce and Justus Cree – hatchery technicians – took her measurements: 7 feet 7 inches long, 170 pounds.

“She’s a lucky fish,” Ponce said, noting the sequence of sevens.

Everyone who works with the Kootenai sturgeon falls at least a little under its spell, Ireland said. Part of the fish’s allure comes from its prehistoric appearance. Sturgeon are an ancient species. Fish spawned in the hatchery look virtually identical to fossilized images of their ancestors, Ireland said. They have the same long snouts, sharklike tails and rows of cartilage plates that resemble armor.

Sturgeon sometimes follow the tribe’s research boat, poking elongated heads out of the water. Lewandowski has a theory about Loch Ness Monster sightings in Western lakes. “I think they’re sturgeon,” he said.

A hose trickled water into the spawning sturgeon’s mouth, keeping her hydrated and breathing. Aside from an occasional squirm, she calmly endured hands palpating her belly. Releasing the eggs takes several hours.

“They’re very forgiving – at least we think so,” Lewandowski said. “She’s sacrificing for future generations.”

Sturgeon don’t spawn until they’re about 30. Females produce eggs every four to six years.

A tag embedded in the sturgeon’s flesh revealed that she’s been captured from the river before. Her age was a mystery, but Lewandowski estimated 60. The knifelike edges of her cartilage – needed for protection when the fish are young – were blunted from wear.

Bill Hill snapped pictures. An electrical contractor who keeps the hatchery’s equipment running, he drove from Coeur d’Alene to watch the spawning process.

“I love that it’s about life,” Hill said. “Everyone takes this very seriously. We only get one chance per year to keep these guys alive.”

Fertilized eggs hatch within eight to 10 days. The tiny sturgeon look like swimming lentils – they’re mud-colored egg sacs with thrashing fins and tails. Most of the young fish are released into the Kootenai River after three days, but some are reared in the hatchery for up to 16 months to give them a better shot at survival.

Hatchery techs take a paternal interest in the young fish. Lewandowski watched 4-inch-long sturgeon cavorting in a hatchery tank. They nosed along the bottom and flipped onto their backs to feed. One released a string of miniature bubbles.

“That’s a burp,” Lewandowski said fondly.

A packet of smoked sturgeon lay untouched in the office. It was a gift from the Yakama Tribe’s hatchery, where the technicians had helped with the spawning of Columbia River sturgeon. Cree can’t imagine eating it.

“After working here, these guys are like our babies,” he said. “We feed these guys and take care of them for 16 months. I wouldn’t want to eat one.”

The Kootenai Tribe spends about $2 million each year on its sturgeon program. The Bonneville Power Administration funds the research and hatchery operations as mitigation for federal dam construction.

Before Libby Dam, nature made spawning easy. Snowmelt brought spring floods that triggered the sturgeon’s upstream journey from British Columbia’s Kootenay Lake to gravel spawning beds in Idaho and Montana.

The dam tamed the spring torrents. As a result, they’re laying their eggs over sand and silt instead of gravel. The eggs hatch, but the fingerlings don’t survive. Without the gravel, they have fewer places to hide from predators.

The fish still move upriver to spawn but seldom get past Bonners Ferry. The sturgeons’ reluctance to swim farther upstream remains a mystery, said Jason Flory, a U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service biologist. Historically, the fish traveled as far northeast as Montana’s Kootenai Falls to spawn.

On Thursday, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers started spilling water over Libby Dam for the first weeklong spill test. The tests are designed to mimic historic conditions that coaxed the sturgeon upriver. At the moment, most of the sturgeon stop at a deep hole at Ambush Rock, a basalt outcropping across the river from Bonners Ferry, said Greg Hoffman, a corps biologist.

Water coming over the dam could raise the Kootenai River by as much as 4 feet. But the flows will remain below flood stage to protect people and property in Bonners Ferry, Hoffman said.

The weeklong spill tests will continue over three spawning seasons. Biologists will track sturgeon movements and scout for eggs. The spills are part of a legal settlement with the Center for Biological Diversity, which wants the government to do more to encourage natural spawning.

The Kootenai Tribe supports the goal of natural spawning, Ireland said. The tribe is working on a habitat restoration plan for 55 miles of the river to benefit sturgeon and other native fish. The plan calls for deeper pools in the main river and restoration of side sloughs for rearing areas.

But at the moment, hatchery production “is the only sure thing,” she said.

At the hatchery, the female sturgeon released nearly 150,000 eggs over four hours. Her work done, the technicians carried her by sling to a calm, broad stretch of the Kootenai River, where the channel flows through fields bordered by cottonwoods.

They lowered the fish, still on her back, into the water. Lewandowski kept hold of the thrashing tail until the sturgeon righted herself and swam off. The men watched until the last ripples from her giant body disappeared from the water’s surface.

The moment stretched out, infused with a quiet reverence. For nearly a week, the sturgeon had been in their care. They left her a few eggs, so she could still spawn naturally if she met a male.

“She’s gone,” Ponce said finally.

Practical matters intervened, breaking the mood. The sturgeon was the fourth of 12 females that will spawn at the hatchery this spring. Another was due to ovulate in the next 24 hours.

“We need more sperm,” said Jack Siple, the hatchery manager. The technicians took off in a 24-foot-long Duckworth boat to Ambush Rock, where they set up fishing lines. Their next task: Catching some fathers for the next generation of Kootenai River sturgeon.