What’s up with the Boardman/Ottaway, or more specifically, what’s not looking up? If you’re a subsurface angler who prefers casting streamers, nymphs, spinners, lures, or bait, then this might not interest you. But our beloved blue-ribbon river is home to a fleet of dyed-in-the-wool, dry-fly trout bums, like me, and some who will use what flies they must to catch fish — also like me, and we’re still scratching our heads about the alleged declining insect activity and numbers of rising trout.
I say “alleged” decline because Part I of this two-part summer column on the Boardman/Ottaway is by and large anecdotal. I plan to get the science involved in the next installment (including some current electrofishing data) to see if opinion and biology match up or are, as is often the case, at odds. The chasm that sometimes exists between sporting opinion and biology can be quite expansive, though neither should be disregarded.
Being a sportsman who was formally educated in fisheries and wildlife biology, I’ve heard both ends of the debate. In college, you couldn’t have a bowel movement without a hypothesis, conclusion, and at least three statistical tests supporting your results. But the fella fishing five evenings a week beginning in early May — and has been for 40 years — has just as important a perspective on the river, and an opinion that matters. And an area that local biologists and anglers perhaps seem to be finding common ground in is that insect activity has decreased since the removal of the dams, which seem to have had an obvious effect on rising trout, or lack thereof.
While complaining accomplishes nothing, another year has passed and many of my fellow fly fishermen are still asking the same legitimate questions. While no one can expect a river to fish the same from year to year (especially one going through so many changes) — just ask folks who knew how certain stretches of the Au Sable used to fish compared to today — anglers who know and love the Boardman/Ottaway used to enjoy regular hatches and rising trout. That was our home river, and we didn’t have to drive two hours to enjoy decent fishing; it was in our backyard.
None of this goes without saying that our local stream doesn’t have its hotspots, where a decent hatch and rising trout still exist, but again, looking at the anecdotal data, fishermen aren’t consistently finding anything close to their previous success (I know more than one angler who has given up fishing the river altogether) before the dams began coming out, especially Brown Bridge Dam in 2012. Removing those dams was necessary and vital to the health of the river, but even if you don’t agree with it, it’s done and will remain done, and there’s no sense in looking back.
But knowledge is power to a sportsman, and if we’re not seeing the rising activity and hatches like we used to, especially some local favorites like Hendricksons, isonychias, sulphurs, and brown and gray drakes, it would be nice to at least understand why, with a hopeful attitude that someday, things will improve.
According to Nate Winkler, biologist with the Conservation Resource Alliance, by taking the dams out, the chemical and physical habitat of the river changed rather drastically. The velocity increased, and average temperature is roughly seven degrees colder than pre-dam removal, creating a harsher environment for invertebrate life. Combined with the lack of silt where certain mayflies burrow as part of their lifecycle, these factors could contribute to the lack of insect life compared to years ago.
But electrofishing data suggests the river isn’t void of fish, rather quite the opposite. In fact, certain multi-year study sites show more trout nowadays than 20 or 30 years ago. I wrote a similar piece last summer after tagging along with Nate, and DNR fisheries biologist, Heather Hettinger, and saw for myself. The stretch we worked, near the old Brown Bridge Pond, was not hurting for brook trout, and even a few large browns.
But looking at electrofishing data and accepting that there are still fish in the river can almost be more frustrating to the average dry-fly fisherman, because the trout are obviously there and eating. Again, my humble opinion from fishing this river almost exclusively every year for over 30 years suggests that my nymph and streamer tactics yield fewer trout that are substantially smaller, especially in the mid to upper reaches of the river. Could this be due to the (alleged) lack of invertebrate life? I don’t know, but I’m determined to find out.
Part II of this topic will be covered in my August column, with more data and info from a few biologists and guides that will hopefully shed some light on areas where we can not only gain a better understanding of what’s going on, but ways to pitch in to help get the dry-fly trout fishing back on its feet — I mean fins … you know what I mean.