This morning it snowed and later when it cleared up we went for a walk along the Chilkoot River. Lucky for me, the Hooligans are running. The hooligan is an extremely oily fish - in the realm of sardine oiliness. Their migration up the rivers to spawn in the exact same place they were spawned kick-starts the whole spring process - first they come, then the salmon - the King come first, followed later by Silver, Pink, and Chum.
The profile of the river was marked with thick, black ribbons of swarms of hooligans. At the mouth of the river were sea lions working in a team to circle the fish and then eat to their heart's content. There was also a little seal, bobbing up now and again, but keeping it all very low-key with the pretator sea lion around. It was thrilling to watch such a suscinct demonstration of the food chain. Jeff reminded us to keep our eyes open for the keen black carving of dorsal fins through the water - the calling-card of orcas who extend that cycle as the predators of the sea lions, waiting beyond the mouth of the river in the deeper water for their chance to participate in this serious business of feeing.
The ribbon of Hooligans flowed against the current and up the river, black and silver and shimmery. I broke this ribbon of flowing fish with a long-handled net, and gently scooped in the direction of the river's flow, against the direction of the Hooligan flow. Both the fish and I worked together in getting them caught in the net. A few made small attempts to turn around, but most, eager to find their birthplace and relieve their bulging bellies of eggs (the next generation), ruined their chances by soldiering-on and into my net. It was the easiest catch I have ever landed.
We ate them for dinner fried in the pan. Yum. Hooligan are also called Candlefish becasue their high oil content enables them to be used as candles. It is said that all one must to is secure a wick in the dried flesh and put a match to it. I am unsure whether this description is figurative or literal. Certainly it is an oily fish. In eating these appetisers - omega-3 bombs stuffed with fish roe, I had the sense that we were eating a super-foods. Rich in god-knows-what-but-it-tastes-like-life. Over a mouthful of this wealth I glimpsed a deeper understanding of their importance to the Native Alaskans. Parked on the shores of the Chilkoot were many Native owned trucks, their drivers in waders or just boots, armed with thrownets, scoopnets, and buckets. We saw Natives of all discriptions - teams of fit youngsters working togther, adults, and one ancient husband and wife who had come on this day, the first day of the Hooligan run, to do what they had done every year for, it looked like, about 90 years. The husband was doing the work of relocated Hooligan from the river into their bucket. The wife, bent over her cane, was assisted by her stronger husband, both shuffling on the uneven stones in the bed of the river. They were old but in the thick of it. It touched my soul to see it, and I figured it must be a pretty important event in their lives. According to Jeff the running of the Hooligan has an almost spiritual significance. Imagine it. It's been a long winter and you've almost used up your supply of dried fish and the new devils claw buds are nothing more than a little bit of salad, and suddenly there's an enormously rich food working itself up the river and into your bucket! The new season! Survival!
Along the banks many pickup trucks had been filled with with fish. There were literally truckloads of them. Natives take the fish and 'render' them - leave them for a week in a vat where it starts to rot, then they boil it down and get all the oil out of it. They use the oil for a variety of cooking purposes, but it contributes to flavoring many of their dishes.
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