Thank you.
Thank you for the opportunity to address this esteemed committee today. My name is Dennis Zimmermann. I reside at Whitehorse, Yukon, on the traditional territories of the Kwanlin Dün First Nation and the Ta’an Kwäch'än Council.
There are various hats I wear related to salmon. I am a member of the land claim-established Yukon Salmon Sub-Committee, and I also sit as a Canadian representative on two international salmon treaty tables: the Yukon River Panel, chapter 8 of the Pacific Salmon Treaty, and the Transboundary Panel, chapter 1 of the Pacific Salmon Treaty. I'm a respective Government of Canada and recreational fishery nominee through those two processes.
First and foremost, I want to acknowledge the significance of this specific inquiry and the unique importance of the Yukon River chinook salmon.
Briefly, Yukon River chinook were historically large, old and prominent, in that returning adults would often travel in river and over 3,000 kilometres to their spawning grounds in Canada. I've often talked to Alaskans who catch both Canadian-origin and U.S.-origin chinook, and they speak of the Canadian “king” salmon as leaving puddles of fat on the ground when they put them up in their smokehouse. This nutritional value is highly prized in communities that have severe food security concerns.
I should also identify that with the lens through which I work with salmon—and I often find I'm in the minority—my work has always been centred around community values, human dimensions and the intricate socioecological systems that surround these cherished species. I also work within the philosophy that if people, first nations, recreational fishers and the general public are not interacting with salmon in some way, they are not likely to care nor wish to support it.
Having worked with various Yukon first nations on a number of community-based salmon plans, I've witnessed first-hand the profound impacts that the decline of salmon populations has had on cultures, peoples and ecosystems throughout the territory. As we know, the life history of Pacific salmon has faced multiple stressors at all life stages, many of which have recently been exacerbated by the effects of climate change.
Very briefly, in delving into the causality of this crisis, one needs to reflect on past fishery practices, where it's evident that the maximum sustainable yield approaches, coupled with uncertainties in run-size projections and a reluctance to manage in-season fisheries, took their toll on chinook salmon populations and essentially beat down their resilience over the years.
Over decades, we've witnessed the loss of older-year classes and of larger, more fecund fish, ultimately resulting in a shift towards fewer, younger and smaller salmon returning. We call this “quality of escapement”, which is not generally accepted within the treaty as a metric to meet escapement goals. In my opinion, there was not enough risk-and-precautionary principle built into the management regimes, whereby treaty escapement goals were considered to be met by achieving a bottom end of ranges and putting just enough Canadian-origin fish into the spawning grounds.
Despite a proliferation of science often thrown at Yukon River chinook—what we often refer to as the counting and measuring approach—the status quo has failed to effectively address the decline in salmon populations. Approximately two decades ago, Yukon first nation voices began sounding the alarm, particularly at the headwaters in Canada, with the Teslin Tlingit Council, where at every meeting elders like Madeleine Jackson would advocate for voluntary subsistence fishery closures in Canada and across the river.
These community voices continue to sound and have moved consistently downriver to the point where we are now, where the impacts are being felt from the headwaters to the ocean. All 50-plus communities that depend in some way on Yukon River chinook in Alaska and Yukon are suffering, no longer fishing, and, most importantly, losing their connection to salmon culture.
Unfortunately, this is another fishery that has shown us that management decisions often lag behind the pace of the resource decline. It is with heavy hearts that we must acknowledge that there may be no fisheries into the foreseeable future. Despite the bleak outlook, we can't lose hope, and we need to continue fighting for Yukon River salmon. Now is the time to ensure that science does not go alone and that we employ all the tools in the tool box.
This means, in my opinion, enhanced investments in community-based stewardship efforts, maximizing the value of the few fish that are returning through ceremony, language, story and knowledge transfer. Through small-scale restoration efforts, this may include a variety of habitat restoration efforts, or indigenous-led conservation hatcheries, as an example.
Also, it means maintaining advocacy and diplomatic efforts within the United States and the international community and continuing to advocate for Canadian-origin chinook returns to spawning grounds, as well as coordinating efforts on the high seas as it relates to bycatch, unregulated international fisheries and production hatcheries in the Bering Sea.
Finally, I'm hopeful that with the continued support of the Department of Fisheries and Oceans, Yukon first nations and other partners, our current efforts towards a holistic Yukon River chinook rebuilding plan will provide the blueprint and momentum to help conserve and rebuild our populations so that future generations may maintain that sacred connection to salmon.
Thank you for your time.