We know what to do. So why are we waiting?
- Jocelyn LeBlanc
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
2024. 2025. 2026. Time is against the salmon.
For the past two years, one question has been constantly recurring in my mind: how much longer does the salmon have before we finally make the necessary decisions?
By 2024, many of us were already sounding the alarm. Low salmon runs, increasingly frequent heat waves, low water levels, and the effects of high temperatures on salmon survival were already well documented. Scientific studies existed. Biologists were discussing it. Anglers were observing it firsthand. We already knew that heat waves could jeopardize the survival of released salmon and reduce their ability to reach spawning grounds and reproduce.
Despite all this, the measures remained timid. We were told that the rivers shouldn't be closed, that management organizations needed the revenue generated by fishing to continue their mission, and that the presence of anglers helped limit poaching. I understand these concerns. I understand the importance of the work done by the ZECs (Controlled Harvesting Zones), associations, and management organizations.
Radio Canada video published May 25 at 8:18 a.m. EDT by Alexandre Courtemanche
But I ask myself a very simple question: what will these revenues be used for if the populations continue to collapse? If some rivers soon no longer have enough salmon to support fishing, what will be left to manage?
The 2025 season was supposed to bring us some hope. Yet, the fish runs did not improve significantly. Several rivers remained open despite the still worrying returns. Once again, structural measures were postponed. We continued to hope that the situation would eventually correct itself, even though everything indicated the opposite.
It's now 2026. This year, nature has given us a gift. Since the beginning of the season, the water has remained high and cold. For salmon, these are almost ideal conditions. After the last few years, this weather gives us a glimmer of hope and offers the fish a much less stressful upstream migration.
But this respite is fragile.
July is fast approaching. We all know that a single heat wave can turn a river upside down in just a few days. Water levels drop, temperatures rise, and the stress on salmon increases rapidly. Yet, despite what we've learned over the years, Quebec still lacks a truly uniform heat protocol to protect all salmon in all its rivers.
The initial data from several fish passes are not particularly reassuring. Yes, the season is still young, and a significant portion of the grilse have yet to arrive. They will likely give us the best indication of what actually happened at sea. Did the smolts that departed in the spring of 2025 successfully complete their incredible migration? Did they find enough food? Did they survive predation, changes in the marine ecosystem, and all the challenges that awaited them?
We'll know very soon.
I sincerely hope there will be many of these madeleines. I hope they will finally give us back a little hope.
But one question haunts me.
Are we ready to welcome them... better than we have welcomed our large salmon so far?
This question isn't just for sport fishermen. It's for all of us. The ministry. Management bodies. Associations. The Federation. Biologists. Managers. Fishermen. Everyone who, directly or indirectly, makes decisions that influence the future of salmon.
Are we finally ready to put our survival before our habits?
Are we ready to act before another heatwave hits?
Are we prepared to protect the last remaining breeders rather than managing their losses once it is too late?
For the past two years, we have known that some populations are extremely vulnerable. We know that high temperatures increase the risks associated with releasing salmon. We also know that, on many rivers, every salmon that reaches the spawning grounds can make a difference for the next generation.
So why are we still waiting?
Why should salmon from one river be entitled to different protection than those from another river?
Why wait until the water reaches critical levels before making decisions that we know are inevitable?
In my view, Quebec should implement a genuine heat protocol across all its salmon rivers. A uniform, transparent protocol based on scientific knowledge. Salmon know neither administrative boundaries nor management territories. They all deserve the same protection.
I also believe that, as long as the salmon runs remain so weak, the mandatory catch and release of all salmon should be applied to all rivers in Quebec.
Not because sport fishing is responsible for the decline.
She is not.
The problems are numerous and largely lie at sea. But when some rivers have only a few dozen or a hundred salmon left, every preventable death becomes significant. Every female that reaches the spawning grounds represents thousands of eggs. Every surviving adult increases the chances of rebuilding the population.
The most worrying thing about all this is that time keeps passing.
We have been in discussions since 2024.
Since 2025, we hope.
It is now 2026.
While we continue to debate the same issues, the salmon keep returning in far too few numbers. The calendar waits for no one. Every lost season weakens a generation a little more. Unlike us, salmon cannot postpone their migration to the following year. They only have one chance to complete their life cycle.
I refuse to believe that we must wait until some rivers are practically empty before making courageous decisions. If we continue to act only when populations are on the verge of collapse, we will always be a season—and sometimes a generation—behind.
The Atlantic salmon is much more than a fish. It is part of our history. It has shaped our rivers, our communities, and our identity for centuries. We have had the privilege of seeing it return from the sea, of admiring it, photographing it, and fishing for it with respect.
Today, it is our turn to return that respect.
The small salmon that are about to return may offer us a new reason for hope. If so, we will also have an immense responsibility: to welcome them better than we have welcomed our large salmon until now.
This will require courage.
This will require putting aside certain short-term interests.
This will require making decisions that may not be unanimously accepted.
But if these decisions allow more salmon to reach spawning grounds today, they will also offer a better chance to future generations.
Ultimately, the real question is no longer whether we know the problem.
We've known him for a long time.
The real question is much simpler.
Will we finally have the courage to act while there is still time... or will we continue to wait until the day when salmon no longer need protection because they have disappeared from our rivers?
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