One Fish, Two Fish, Sucker Fish, Bluehead Fish

Our stream had visitors.

Bruce’s brother Joe (second from the right) is getting a PhD in some kind of fish biology studies. I’m not clear on all the details. But part of his research involves this team in waders studying the number and health of fish in small Virginia streams. Streams are eligible for the study if they run through farms that have stream protection strategies in place. Our farm stream, a tributary to Linville Creek, qualified because we had partnered with a federal program to plant trees on a hillside in the creek watershed in 2012.

Most of those trees died–eaten by deer and voles, or smothered by fescue. There are a few oaks and other hardwoods that survived and those alone I think are worth the hassle. But the hillside watershed is a success anyway, mostly through volunteer walnut, juniper, and locust trees that are creeping uphill from the stream. Throw in a couple oaks and hickory that escaped the deer-vole-fescue trinity of death, and it will be a nice forest in another ten years!

We planted the trees in 2012. This photo was taken in November. The West Fork of Linville Creek lies between Gristmill Road (which bisects the photo horizontally) and the tube-dotted hillside. You don’t even notice that a creek is there because there are so few trees along its banks. There are more trees lining the road than lining the creek.

And now, the same hillside from a slightly different angle and a bit further away. The creek runs towards the viewer to the right of the photo. It is mostly hidden by trees and brush. The photo was taken this May. Not much is growing out of the tubes, but there’s definitely ten years’ worth of tree growth on the hillside. Sometimes all you need to do is let the land alone (no animal grazing, no crops) and it will come back on its own. Natural regeneration.

So how to monitor the health of the stream? One way is to look at the fish it supports. The first thing the team did was place a stop net 420 feet upstream from a concrete bridge. They would chase the fish upstream and catch and count them. The net kept the fish from escaping the test section of the stream. When the team reached the net, they turned around and repeated the catch going downstream to make sure no fish was overlooked. This was repeated in two different lengths of stream.

Thomas, with the blue shirt and backpack, is holding an electrified stunner. I’m sure there is an official fishy name for this thing. It shocks the fish and brings them to the surface without killing them. Team members are careful not to let their fingers drag in the current, and they hope their rubber waders do a good job of protecting all their sensitive parts. The stunned fish are then easily captured by the nets and dumped in the red bucket Eryn is holding.

Joe, at the back, uses a GPS device to measure the width of the stream. He concluded that the stream bed had been artificially widened and straightened. This was probably for drainage and irrigation purposes when the adjacent field was a sod farm before we bought it. The stream wants to be much narrower and deeper than it is, and would rather meander through the flat field than run straight. Because if its width and sluggishness, it is very silty. There is no gravel bottom or rock structures that would support trout. It’s a spring-fed stream and is very cold–59 degrees at 9 am when they went electrofishing.

When all the fish were in the bucket, they were counted, measured, and released. Samantha did the measuring and called out the length to Tal, who recorded everything in a notebook.

What was in our stream at 9 am last Thursday? 159 Blacknose Dace, 46 White Suckers, 11 Pearl Dace, 8 Bluehead Chub, and 7 Fantail Darter. Six humans. Probably some muskrat. And lots and lots of watercress.

I leave you with two photos of the stream, in two different seasons, then and now. Both show the section where the Great Fish Electroshock Collection took place upstream of the concrete bridge.

Photo 1, November 2011 before any trees were planted along the hillside or riverbank. There were a few walnut tree hanging over the stream and not much else around it. Fields on both sides were cultivated close to the banks.

And July 2021, from the other side of the stream. (The poison ivy was so thick on the far bank I couldn’t get in to take a photo!)

Did the trees we planted on the hillside that drained into the stream make any difference? Did they catch runoff and keep topsoil or fertilizer from uphill fields from entering the stream? Did the vegetation that grew up naturally along the stream help to cool the water? Did any of this increase the health of the stream and the fish that live there?

Unfortunately we didn’t have a baseline fish study 10 years ago, so we can’t really know! Joe’s stream research might be able to tell us how our stream compares to others in similar circumstances, and how those streams compare to others that have no interventions.

Check back for the results of the study! We will certainly share what we learn!