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Patapsco River

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Lexington Park, Md

Lexington Park, Md

Dam RightBy Kate Livie

The Bloede Dam Removal and the Chesapeake’s Forgotten First Fishery

Dr. Matt Ogburn is searching for ghosts. Not the see-through spectral kind, festooned in chains like Jacob Marley. These are genetic ghosts. They apparate in native species of fish, showing themselves in behaviors passed down through the generations and, in some cases, the centuries.

The Patapsco River, in particular, has recently become a haunt for this kind of waterborne ghost-spotting. Dammed first in 1761, and then multiple times over after that, the fish in this river should have forgotten long ago that the headwaters of this river spawned their great-great-great-great-fishly progenitors. But Ogburn, a senior scientist with the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center, thinks it might be possible that modern shad can remember. Or at least, he’s interested to see if they can.

“It’s a question I really want to answer. Will shad from a genetic stock go back up the river to spawn? Will it occasionally happen? There might be fish out there that will start coming back, and over time, you could build up a more migratory portion of the population.”

Ogburn and his SERC team of researchers are studying the population of river herring and shad on the Patapsco, and they’re especially interested to see if these ghosts of memory (or something more pragmatic, like lower river population density) might motivate these native species to return to spawning grounds blocked for a century or more. In 2018, Patapsco River’s Bloede Dam was demolished as part of a $17M environmental restoration initiative. With the obstructing dam removed, the free-flowing stretch of the river is now Ogburn’s laboratory. Using what’s known as “environmental DNA” (that’s fish scales and detritus floating in the water to you and me), Ogburn has discovered that yes, there have been a few shad passing upstream. Less than 20 last year, but it’s a start. If the fish return, it will mark a homecoming for a species long barricaded from its natal river. Maybe more importantly, it will prove that it is possible for the Chesapeake to heal when given the chance.

The Patapsco River and the process to gradually undam its flow is an important environmental story because of the shad, alewives, and river herring that the river’s restoration will attract. But it’s part of a great Chesapeake cultural story too. For centuries, the springtime chapter of our seasonal culinary cycle was dominated by shad.

Shad was the ultimate flavor of spring, a taste of life returning after a long, cold winter. Fatty and restorative, its flesh and roe were a harbinger of the year’s harvest and plenty to come. Beginning with the Native Americans and continuing through the 20th century, Chesapeake people netted shad in incredible amounts and found all sorts of ways to prepare and preserve it. We named the shadbush trees that bloomed in the spawning fish season after them, and watched the branches eagerly for blossoms indicating that the spring run had started. We associated shad and shad feasts with politicking season; we named riverside towns after the fish; and in the 20th century, we dropped mentions of shad roe into popular theater tunes. An article from the Baltimore American in 1907 conveys the

Nets, boats, and other gear were customized in the 20th century for the sole harvest of Chesapeake shad, in response to a growing market for shad roe. If the fish return, it will mark a homecoming for a species long barricaded from its natal river. Maybe more importantly, it will prove that it is possible for the Chesapeake to heal when given the chance.

BAIN NEWS SERVICE/ THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS COLLECTIONS.

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