Falling for Salmon

Salire in Latin means ‘to leap’. Hence the mighty Salmon of Scottish, Irish and North American folklore where they symbolize power, wisdom, determination, renewal and prosperity. It is no wonder then that people have danced and fallen for this ‘leaper’. Feasting bears in the freezing falling river waters would agree.

Feasting on a succulent salmon is always a treat, or is it? The notion of salmon swimming upstream and leaping over waterfalls and weirs in the wild is fixed in our minds. This is nature, as it should be. Who can argue with the touted health benefits of Omega-3. Fat powers salmon upstream in their quest to spawn. Nor do they eat on this journey. Rather it is the bears, eagles, otters and fishing humans that eat them. The ones that do make it back to their spawning stream can lay up to seven thousand eggs and once fertilized they ensure the perpetuation of the species. All that spent energy denies their continued survival, but it is the emerging ‘fry’ that continue the circle of survival. (As an aside the name ‘Fry Salmon’ appears in several social media sites).

This wild notion of nature served demand for the treat resulting in the farming of salmon supply. The noble argument being that this will help perpetuate the wild salmon. Detractors argue that chemicals in the fish-feed including astaxanthin to make them pink, sea lice and anoxic water are some of the factors leading to unsustainable farms. Genetically engineered salmon are now available destroying the notion of wild salmon and any appetite in my mind.

Farming aside, nature’s notion of jumping salmon prompted us to watch the salmon working their way upstream in the Humber River. It was a sunny fall holiday weekend, but the problem was this decision had been made by a host of folks, teeming to see of the fish. As we approached the first weir a fellow was wading with a rod in midstream. He looked uncomfortable negotiating the stony river bed.

The first spot we came to is close to the weir on the river bank and was occupied by several excited people. They were crouching on a cement wall, touching the fish as they battled the current. You could see salmon in the dark ruffled water.

One made it over the weir while we were there watching, but many fell back from their attempted jumps. These falling salmon simply tried and tried again never giving up on their pursuit of spawning grounds.

It was time to move to the upper side of the weir to see any successful salmon making it over much to the glee of the watching crowd. We moved away from the river bank, back to the pedestrian path. Tripping, I fell for salmon, cursing the salmon- colored bricks in my face.