Water Dancers

A multitude of various sounds echo around the many acres of Warm Spring’s Fish Hatchery, situated below Lake Sonoma’s earthen dam. Oppressive, dark clouds bathe the surroundings in faded light, yet in certain spots, the sun breaks through the clouds, spotlighting the natural beauty of this busy expanse of land. Flowing streams, average buildings, and concrete structures-each one of these elements are important in the process of harvesting fish eggs and raising the babies. The land that houses this amazing infrastructure is made up of many juxtaposing components.

As one walks to the entrance of the visitor center, the eyes see tiny signs that point out endangered fungi species that inhabit the small dirt area where old, majestic oak trees provide shade for a wooden bench. Next to the black-rimmed doorway, there is a black, chalkboard sign publicizing the updated fish count and advertising boar hunting. Inside, an overwhelming display meets the eye; an assortment of colorful books and stuffed animals and cheap gifts and detailed maps and educational exhibits that are organized around the small, adjoining rooms. A fierce, bleached white skeleton of a mountain lion looks on from its Plexiglas cage. Rangers in forest green uniforms decorated with flashy patches, smile as young children try grinding corn in the granite bowl or drilling a hole with a drill made of lightweight wood and sinews. A large TV blares, showing beautiful photos of picturesque California as the parents of the enthusiastic children lounge on the burgundy, leather couch.

At the back of all this mayhem, a door leads out to a covered patio where a bridge spans a body of water. The body of water appears to be moving ever so slightly: it flows slowly downstream and supports many species of birds, mammals, and the giant sturgeon that is rumored to linger in its depths. An unused maintenance path runs along a short, finger of this creek. Large bushes obscure the view of this small body of water, yet the chirps and splashes of the water birds from beyond are clearly heard. Peering around the prickly, dark bushes, the eyes meet a stunning sight. Twenty or more common mergansers with the females’ red hoods fanned wide open and the males’ striking black and white tuxedos. They create a brilliant array of smartly dressed dancers diving for their meals of small silvery, flipping fish. Among these graceful dancers twirling on the dance floor, an even more majestic gentleman, strutting his flashy colors, emerges from the frenzy. A lone wood duck swims, hesitantly out from the overhanging shrubbery. He grabs a quick meal and heads back to the cover of the plants.

Across the brown, woodpecker hole-pocked bridge, lies the perfect facilities for viewing the processes of a fish hatchery; a fish ladder, a slow moving, shallow, clear stream, plenty of good places to sit and view the fish, the harvesting stations, and the incubation tanks. The bridge ends at the entrance to a large building that smells strongly of disinfectant, metal, and fish. The entryway opens up into a huge room divided by freestanding panels plastered with pictures and the history of the hatchery. A few adults stand around reading, watching the TV playing a “how-to” on harvesting fish eggs and sperm, or scrutinizing the pictures. Two children stand in front of a huge wheel, like on Wheel of Fortune, spinning it to see their chances of survival if they were a salmon. I watch them and smile as I remember doing the same thing when I was younger. Surrounding this large room is a fence. It turns out that the room is actually a floating island above the sanitation and harvesting areas. At certain times, one can look over the edge of the fence to see fish come rocketing down a metal shoot to be received by hatchery employees who pump them with air, collect the sperm or eggs, and send them down another shoot. Thunk. Pssh. Shwoop. It is a very noisy process and echoes around the entire building. Down below on the other side of the room are the incubation tanks. Small stainless-steel tanks, with lots of complicated machinery hanging above them. The water in the tanks is tinted orange due to the eggs and yolk sacks of the young salmon and steelhead.

Outside the harvesting plant, on the other side, is a downward slanting path that goes by the raceways that the fish are sent from to be milked or to have the sperm taken from. The path continues around the corner past their water sanitation plant that spurts many gallons of water into the air. Mist floating off the turbulent, roiling water into the brisk air rises up to the clouds above. An empty street runs past the sanitation plant, where it crosses a small bridge. Under the bridge, rows of fish are lined up in a small stream, hiding in the shadows of the bridge. A slim man, wearing a slim bright spandex suit, a slim aerodynamic helmet, and slim sunglasses balances on his bike while peering over the edge of the bridge.

Past the bridge, the stream continues on towards an intimidating roaring sound. The stream, flat, clear, and shallow, follows a few gentle curves. A skinny asphalt path runs along the edge of the stream. On the other side of the path, newly planted trees sprout new foliage in preparation for the spring. Pinpricks of brilliant blue flit from shrub to tree to ground. These blue flashes are mountain bluebirds. They are extremely busy birds, flitting everywhere in search of nesting material, bugs and seeds. One hovers only a foot from the ground, like a dazzling dragonfly, the grass blades around it bending from the whir of its wings. A splash from the stream startles some of the bluebirds from the trees and they take off. Fish in the stream are doing their mating rituals and causing quite a stir. The females turn onto their side and flip their bodies to make little dips in the gravel bottom. This rapid flashing in the water launches tiny diamonds into the air, only to rain back into the creek again. The males do their odd mating dance where they vibrate their bodies. The water, so chaotically full of dancing fish it looks like a bunch of snakes writhing in the water. Concrete steps leading down into the water create a beautiful place to sit and watch the natural phenomenon. An old couple hobbles from educational sign to educational sign, while glancing at the water with enthusiastic and awed eyes. A couple sits on the steps while having a late, afternoon lunch. Little kids run along the path, laughing, screeching, and pointing towards the mating fish.

The stream suddenly drops off under a small platform into a roiling mass of white water. There are five of these drops; this is the fish ladder. The fish, guided by instinct, attempt to jump over each of these steps in order to swim upstream. The ladder is a huge, deep concrete canal covered in soft green velvet and long, skinny vines trailing in the water. At the fish ladder there are peaceful benches where one can sit and be lulled by the constant din of the churning water, like the pounding waves of the ocean.

The backdrop for this tranquil scene is the massive spillway out of Lake Sonoma, creating a dramatic atmosphere. It jets out gallons and gallons of water every hour, a constant white, slanted river. A din of rushing water, chirping birds, and splashing fish makes this peaceful, yet busy place one of a kind. Each time I visit here, I see something new. I am always relaxed and awed by the surroundings here and I look forward to my next visit.

--Tara