Returning to the water and using warm water: survival does not guarantee unaltered reproductive success In Atlantic salmon, the 97% figure only tells part of the story. A salmon swims off after being unhooked. For the fisherman, it's a relief. But this single departure doesn't, in itself, guarantee that the fish will fully recover, continue its migration, and contribute to the next generation. The distinction is essential: surviving a release and maintaining intact reproductive success are two different things. Science helps us better understand this difference. It also shows why capture conditions, particularly water temperature, must play a central role in our fishing decisions. What the 97% really means In a study conducted on the Alta River in Norway, Thorstad and colleagues reported that 97% of the 30 radio-tagged salmon survived release and were present in known spawning areas during the reproductive period . The captures took place in water temperatures of 10–14.5 °C . [1] This is a favorable result for releasing the fish back into the water. But it is not a measure of the offspring produced. The presence of a fish in a spawning area does not tell us how many offspring it will be attributed, nor whether its contribution will be comparable to that of an uncaught fish. The study also noted adverse effects associated with factors such as fight duration, injuries, bleeding, handling, and exposure to air and temperature. These effects affected the fish's condition, stress levels, and behavior. [1] The Alta results therefore demonstrate high survival rates under the studied conditions. However, they do not demonstrate a 97% reproductive success rate. Releasing the animal back into the water has conservation value. Recognizing these limitations does not mean condemning the practice of releasing the fish back into the water. A salmon kept before spawning will not participate in the next spawning season. A released salmon can still contribute. Releasing them thus helps preserve breeding stock that would otherwise be harvested. But its value as a management tool does not mean that every catch is without consequence. Rather, it compels us to examine the conditions under which we choose to fish. The question then becomes: how to reduce the effects of capture on a fish that still has to complete its migration and reproduce? When the water warms up, the risk increases. In 2020, Van Leeuwen and his colleagues combined data from several studies to model post-release mortality as a function of temperature. [2] Their analysis indicates generally low mortality in fresh water, less than about 5% below 12°C. For the 18-20°C range, the model provides an average estimate of about 16% , with a reported range of 7-33% taking uncertainty into account . [2] These figures do not constitute a universal rate. The authors note significant variability between studies at high temperatures and recommend caution in interpreting the predictions. [2] It would therefore be excessive to claim that, in each river, exactly 16 out of 100 salmon will die after being released back into the water between 18 and 20 °C. But if such a rate were applied to a group of 100 fish caught before spawning, it would represent 16 fish that would not participate in that reproduction. Survival thus remains a prerequisite for any future reproductive contribution. The temperature at the time of capture matters An analysis published in 2024 by Van Leeuwen and colleagues sheds further light on the issue. It re-examines data collected in Newfoundland between 2018 and 2020 and focuses on mortality within five days of release . [3] Among salmon caught at 20°C or above , 4 out of 18 died , or about 22%. In a subgroup of fish caught at 20°C or below, but subsequently exposed to an average temperature of at least 20°C, 1 out of 13 died . [3] These small sample sizes do not allow the percentages to be transformed into general rules. The authors nevertheless conclude that, under the conditions examined, the temperature at the time of capture remains the best indicator of survival after release. [3] This does not make subsequent temperatures unimportant. It underscores the significance of the conditions present when the fish is subjected to the fight and handling. Reproduction requires a different approach. To go beyond simply observing survival, researchers have used genetics to link fry to their parents. Richard, Dionne, Wang, and Bernatchez did so in a study published in 2013. Their results suggest a size-dependent effect of release, with larger individuals being more affected in their reproductive contribution. [4] They also detected an interaction between temperature and air exposure. However, the observed relationships were complex: they should not be reduced to a universal formula for calculating reproductive loss for each additional degree or each second out of the water. [4] This study concerned one population and one year. It measured the contribution to the sampled fry, and not the number of offspring that would one day return to reproduce. [4] However, it shows why it is necessary to examine the possible consequences of capture beyond immediate survival . What the Rimouski study shows Bouchard and his colleagues published a study in 2022 on the reproductive success of salmon released back into the Rimouski River. [5] At least 83% of the fish released back into the water that reached the upstream side of the dam reproduced , including some released at temperatures above 20°C. [5] However, the relative reproductive success of released females reached approximately 73% of that of uncaptured females . This is a difference in reproductive contribution, not a survival rate or a proportion of females that became unable to spawn. [5] This 27% difference should also not be attributed directly to heat. In trapped fish, researchers did not detect a decrease in reproductive success with increased temperature at the time of release. [5] In contrast, fish caught in warmer water were less likely to become trapped. Therefore, the reproductive outcomes observed in fish that migrated upstream do not necessarily predict the fate of all released fish. [5] Fish not found in the trap: an uncertainty to be respected We need to be rigorous in both directions. A salmon absent from the trap cannot automatically be considered dead or as having failed to reproduce. Another publication from the same team specifies that spawning also occurs downstream of the dam , in an area excluded from their upstream reproductive monitoring. Fish that reach upstream are, in fact, trapped and then transported over the obstacle. [6] The question of what will happen to the missing fish therefore remains open. This limitation prevents us from stating that they have all recovered fully, or from concluding that they have all been lost to reproduction. 18°C is not an absolute limit The studies cited do not allow us to conclude that at exactly 18°C , each salmon would experience a specific reduction in its reproductive success. [2, 4, 5] Nor do they allow us to consider any lower temperature as a guarantee of no effect. The risk described by the analyses varies with the conditions; it is not simply a matter of switching on and off. [1, 2, 4] For me, 18°C is a benchmark for caution, not a proven biological boundary. As the water warms, particularly around 20°C and above, mortality data provide further reasons to limit avoidable stresses. [2, 3] This position stems from a precautionary choice informed by research. It does not claim to replace local regulations or establish a threshold valid for all rivers. Adapting our decisions to the state of the population The abundance of a population must also be taken into account. But a river that hosts many salmon does not, in itself, allow us to conclude that the losses would be negligible. The challenge is to decide what risk we are willing to accept, given the state of the stock, environmental conditions, and uncertainties. We don't have to wait for a statistically significant effect to be detected in every river before choosing to reduce avoidable pressure. The absence of a significant result is not a guarantee of the absence of consequences. The salmon before the first cast Releasing a boat back into the water deserves more than just a number used as a guarantee. It deserves careful practice and an honest assessment of the available knowledge. Studies show that many released salmon survive and reproduce. They also show that results vary, that warm water increases survival concerns, and that reproductive contribution may be affected. [1–5] Seeing a fish swim away is always an important moment. But what we want to protect goes further: its ability to reach a breeding habitat and contribute to the next generation. That's why my decision to fish shouldn't begin with the question: "Can I still successfully catch and release?" She should start with this question: "Under the current conditions, is it reasonable to subject this fish to this fight?" Giving up a few casts when conditions become difficult is also a fisherman's gesture. Salmon first and foremost. And especially before the first cast. Sources [1] Thorstad, EB, Næsje, TF, Fiske, P. and Finstad, B. (2003). Effects of hook and release on Atlantic salmon in the River Alta, northern Norway. Fisheries Research, 60(2–3), 293–307. Consult the study [2] Van Leeuwen, TE et al. (2020). Mortality of Atlantic salmon after catch and release angle: assessment of a recreational Atlantic salmon fishery in a changing climate. Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences, 77(9), 1518–1528. Consult the study [3] Van Leeuwen, T.E., Keefe, D., Young, M. and Adams, B. (2024). Water temperature at the time of the catch-and-release event is a better predictor of survival in Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) than acute water temperature changes before and after. Journal of Fish Biology, 104(5), 1623–1627. Consult the study [4] Richard, A., Dionne, M., Wang, J. and Bernatchez, L. (2013). Does catch and release affect the mating system and individual reproductive success of wild Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar L.)? Molecular Ecology, 22(1), 187–200. Consult the study [5] Bouchard, R., Wellband, K., Lecomte, L., Bernatchez, L. and April, J. (2022). Effect of catch-and-release and temperature at release on reproductive success of Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar L.) in the Rimouski River, Quebec, Canada. Fisheries Management and Ecology, 29(6), 888–896. Consult the study [6] Bouchard, R., Wellband, K., Lecomte, L., Bernatchez, L. and April, J. (2022). Effects of stocking at the parr stage on the reproductive fitness and genetic diversity of a wild population of Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar L.). Evolutionary Applications, 15(5), 838–852. Consult the study

An improvement from the bottom of the barrel does not constitute a recovery Between September 3 and 17, 2026, three articles published in RiverNotes presented the results of three Quebec rivers—the Rivière aux Rochers, the Rivière du Gouffre, and the Rivière Sainte-Marguerite—from an encouraging angle. Three weeks. Three severely weakened rivers. Three positive framings. Yes, some of the 2026 results are better than those of 2024 or 2025. No one disputes that. But when these figures are placed in the context of historical data, the picture becomes much less reassuring. A river can experience an annual rise while remaining deeply in crisis. This is precisely why words must be chosen with extreme care. The Atlantic Salmon Federation does not exist to please fishermen or to embellish the record of a fishing season. It exists to protect and restore wild Atlantic salmon. Its primary responsibility, therefore, is not to find reassuring words. It is to present the true state of the population, even when the truth is difficult to hear. The overall picture: an improvement does not constitute a recovery Here's what the 2026 figures actually show when compared to more representative historical references: The Rivière aux Rochers has 216 salmon in 2026. This is better than the 141 in 2025, but about 79% below the average from 2005 to 2009. The Gouffre River recorded 93 releases. This is 20 more than in 2025, but 15 fewer than in 2024. Crucially, a release does not necessarily represent a single salmon run or a single salmon. The main Sainte-Marguerite River has 99 salmon. This is better than 2024 and 2025, but about 74% below the 2015-2019 average. The Sainte-Marguerite Northeast has 90 salmon. This is a rebound after two catastrophic years, but about 80% below the average from 2010 to 2014. That's the full picture. Yes, there are occasional increases. No, the data does not allow us to speak of a recovery. Rivière aux Rochers: 216 salmon, but still far from historical levels RiverNotes presents the 2026 season as a "better season" and speaks of "encouraging news". The total number of salmon increased from 141 in 2025 to 216 in 2026. This represents a real increase of 53.2%. But 216 salmon represent only about 21% of the average from 2005 to 2009 and 22% of that from 2010 to 2014. In other words, the river remains nearly 79% below some of its most representative historical averages. The composition of the 2026 upstream migration is also important: 137 grilses; 79 large salmon; 216 salmon in total. The number of grilse has improved, but the number of large salmon remains extremely low. An increase in grilse could raise the total number of large salmon without offsetting the weakness of the large spawners. It should also be noted that in 2023, only 20 grilse were counted. In 2024, there were 53. In 2025, 70. Then 137 in 2026. This increase is positive, but it does not yet allow us to conclude that the population has recovered or that it is following a sustainable trajectory. The correct term would therefore be: partial improvement in a population that is still profoundly weakened. Gouffre River: we're comparing releases into the water, not upstream migrations. The situation of the Gouffre river raises an even bigger problem. RiverNotes reports: 108 relaunchs in 2024; 73 in 2025; 93 in 2026. The text presents the 2026 result as being "more encouraging". But encouraging compared to what? Releasing a salmon is a declared fishing event. It doesn't automatically mean a different salmon. The same fish can theoretically be caught and released more than once. The number of times the fish are released back into the water also depends on: the number of fishing days; water conditions; flow rate; of the temperature; the presence of fishermen at the time when salmon are accessible; the concentration of fish in certain areas; the rate of catch reporting; of the possibility of repeated captures. In 2024, the 108 releases were recorded during 1,344 fishing days. This represents approximately 0.080 releases per fishing day. In 2025, the 73 releases were recorded during 920 fishing days. This represents approximately 0.079 releases per fishing day. The rate is practically identical. The decrease in the gross number of catches between 2024 and 2025 therefore seems to largely follow the decrease in fishing effort. For 2026, RiverNotes does not provide the number of fishing days. Therefore, it is impossible to know if the 93 catches actually represent a better salmon population or simply a different fishing effort. And above all, the official report does not show a continuous series of ascents for the Gouffre after 2021. The latest published ascensions are sporadic: 193 salmon in 2004; 218 in 2005; 193 in 2007; 349 in 2010; 527 in 2019; at least 613 in 2020; 475 in 2021. After 2021, refloating cannot replace a true population count. The most rigorous formulation would have been: "More fish will be released back into the water than in 2025, but no conclusions can be drawn regarding the evolution of the total population." It's less spectacular. But it's much more accurate. Main Sainte-Marguerite: only 76 madeleines in four years On the main St. Margaret River, RiverNotes reports 99 salmon in 2026: 28 madeleines; 71 large salmon. The result is presented as the best mounting of the last three years. That's correct if we limit the comparison to 2024, 2025 and 2026. But this window begins precisely at the heart of the recent collapse. Here are the numbers of madeleines observed since 2023: 2 in 2023; 11 in 2024; 35 in 2025; 28 in 2026. That only yields 76 madeleines in four seasons. For all salmon species, the runs from 2023 to 2026 total 428 individuals: 223 in 2023; 35 in 2024; 71 in 2025; 99 in 2026. The 99 salmon in 2026 represent an improvement compared to 2024 and 2025, but they remain about 74% below the 2015-2019 average. We must also take into account an important methodological limitation: the provincial report specifies that, since 2016, the upslope of the main branch is estimated from its relationship with the Northeast branch. Therefore, any comparison must be accompanied by a clear explanation of the method used. Sainte-Marguerite Northeast: a partial rebound, not a recovery The Northeast branch has 90 salmon in 2026: 34 grilses; 56 large salmon. That's better than the 38 salmon in 2024 and the 46 in 2025. But, once again, the choice of the comparison period completely changes the picture. The 90 salmon of 2026 represent: about 21% of the average from 2000 to 2004; about 20% of the average from 2010 to 2014; approximately 32% of the average from 2015 to 2019; about 53% of the already weakened average from 2020 to 2025. Even compared to the recent period, which includes the collapses of 2024 and 2025, the 2026 result remains about 47% lower. The correct word is therefore not "recovery". The right word is: partial rebound after two catastrophic years. Salmon cannot be measured solely from one year to the next. There is another question that should concern us greatly: what will become of the cohorts produced by the small upswings of 2023, 2024, 2025 and 2026? Atlantic salmon do not operate on a simple annual calendar. After spawning, the eggs overwinter in the gravel. The young salmon then generally live for several years in the river before becoming smolts and migrating downstream to the sea. They then spend one or more winters in the marine environment before returning as adults. Therefore, the consequences of a low egg deposition in 2023 will not all be visible in 2024. They can manifest themselves several years later. That's where the real danger lies. Some fly bolts in the coming years may still be supported by better egg deposits from previous years. This could give the impression that the situation is stabilizing. But the very low uptake recorded since 2023 risks producing much smaller adult cohorts in the late 2020s or early 2030s. We cannot predict with certainty the exact year or the precise extent of this decline. But we know enough about the biological cycle to understand that we need to prepare before the shock fully appears in the adult climbers. Are we ready for what's coming? Have we already implemented: a uniform thermal protocol; automatic shutdowns when temperature and low flow become dangerous; a daily display of temperature, flow rate, fish runs and fishing effort; a genuine monitoring of recaptures; salmon smolt counts; regular monitoring of the parr; an annual publication of egg laying; Measures to reduce fishing pressure when fish runs become critical? Are the fish kept in water constantly? Are photos taken outside of the water prohibited? Are barbless hooks, or hooks with a completely crushed barb, mandatory? Is the duration of the fights reduced to a minimum? Do we preemptively close a river before the heat, low flow, and handling of fish become a deadly combination? These are the questions that a conservation organization should place at the center of its message. Not only that: did we release a few more salmon back into the water than last year? Words influence behavior When an organization as well-known as the Atlantic Salmon Federation describes a season as "encouraging," the public takes it that the situation is getting better. The sense of urgency is diminishing. Some anglers may believe the river can withstand more pressure. Managers may feel less pressure to impose difficult measures. Decision-makers may conclude that the actions already in place are sufficient. That is why words have weight. I am not criticizing the fact of publishing a real increase. I criticize the fact that the worst years of the series were chosen as the main reference point. By constantly comparing the worst to the almost worst, we end up making an unacceptable situation seem acceptable. An annual increase should be presented for what it is: an annual increase. Recovery requires much more: a positive trend over several years; a rise that is closer to historical references; a good representation of large salmon; a sufficient egg deposit; adequate production of parr and salmon smolts; a population large enough and diverse enough to withstand bad years. We are still far from being able to demonstrate all of this on the three rivers studied. Conclusion: our responsibility lies with the salmon The Atlantic Salmon Federation is not a fishing season promotion agency. It is a conservation organization. Her responsibility is not to tailor her message to what the fishermen want to hear. She must tailor it to what the salmon need to survive. The fisherman may wish for a better season. The Federation, for its part, must defend the next generation of salmon. Yes, let's highlight each additional salmon. But let's also show how much ground has been lost. Let's show the historical averages. Let's show the big salmon and the madeleines. Let's show the fishing effort. Let's show the temperatures, the flow rates, the egg deposits and the salmon smolt counts. Then let's clearly explain what we are prepared to do to protect those who remain. It is not our responsibility to make the season encouraging. Our responsibility is to give salmon every possible chance of survival. Each breeder must reach spawning time. Every public statement must reflect this urgency. Because at the rate some rivers are declining, their days are numbered — and the salmon cannot wait for our vocabulary to catch up with reality. Sources [1] Government of Quebec, Ministry of the Environment, the Fight Against Climate Change, Wildlife and Parks. 2025 Salmon Harvest Assessment in Quebec , April 2026. Tables for the Gouffre River, pages 132-133; Sainte-Marguerite Main River, pages 142-143; Sainte-Marguerite Northeast River, pages 144-145; Rivière aux Rochers River, pages 164-165. https://bibliotheque.cecile-rouleau.gouv.qc.ca/documents/archives/pgq/L6G48_B54/L6G48_B54_2025.pdf [2] Atlantic Salmon Federation. RiverNotes — September 3, 2026 , section on the Rivière aux Rochers. https://www.asf.ca/rivernotes-september-03-2026/ [3] Atlantic Salmon Federation. RiverNotes — September 10, 2026 , section on the Gouffre River. https://www.asf.ca/rivernotes-september-10-2026/ [4] Atlantic Salmon Federation. RiverNotes — September 17, 2026 , section on the Sainte-Marguerite River. https://www.asf.ca/rivernotes-september-17-2026/ [5] Government of Quebec. Regulatory Amendments — Saguenay–Lac-Saint-Jean Region — Atlantic Salmon Fishery , July 12, 2024. https://www.quebec.ca/nouvelles/actualites/details/modifications-reglementaires-region-du-saguenay-lac-saint-jean-peche-au-saumon-atlantique-reduction-du-contingent-quotidien-de-saumons-remis-a-leau-et-de-petits-saumons-pris-et-gardes-pour-la-saison-2024-57429 [6] Government of Quebec. Atlantic Salmon Management Plan . https://www.quebec.ca/agriculture-environnement-et-ressources-naturelles/faune/gestion-faune-habitats-fauniques/gestion-especes-fauniques/plans-gestion/saumon-atlantique [7] Atlantic Salmon Federation. About Atlantic Salmon — life cycle of Atlantic salmon. https://www.asf.ca/about-atlantic-salmon/

Rivière aux Rochers 2026: Improvement does not equal recovery The RiverNotes published on September 3, 2026 by the Atlantic Salmon Federation presents the Rivière aux Rochers in an encouraging light: 216 salmon were counted, compared to 114 in 2025. https://www.asf.ca/rivernotes-september-03-2026/ Yes, 2026 is better than 2025. But when you check the reference figure, distinguish between the small salmon and the large salmon, and place this run in the historical series, the picture becomes much less reassuring. The rigorous conclusion is simple: 2026 marks an annual improvement. The data do not yet demonstrate a recovery in the population. A reference error that inflates the rise RiverNotes compares the 216 salmon in 2026 to a total of 114 in 2025. However, the official report from the Ministry of the Environment, the Fight Against Climate Change, Wildlife and Parks indicates a total run of 141 salmon in 2025 : 70 madeleines; 71 red eel-marins, or large salmon; 141 salmon in total. Comparing 216 to 114 produces an apparent increase of 89.5% . Comparing 216 to the official total of 141 gives an increase of 53.2% . The improvement remains real, but it does not correspond to a near doubling of the rise. What the 2026 mounting actually contains The final count communicated after the cage was closed is as follows: 137 madeleines ; 79 large salmon ; 216 salmon in total . Compared to 2025, the number of madeleines increases from 70 to 137, or +95.7% . However, the number of large salmon increased from 71 to 79, representing an increase of only 8 fish or 11.3% . Almost the entire rebound is therefore due to the madeleines. This distinction is essential: an increase in the total does not automatically mean that the reproductive capacity of the population has been restored. Large salmon, particularly large females, contribute significantly to egg deposition. Their numbers here remain extremely low. One of the weakest elongations since 2000 An examination of the 2000–2026 series shows that the runs have already regularly exceeded 1,000 salmon: 1,048 in 2000; 1,064 in 2004; 1,082 in 2006; 1,571 in 2008; 1,212 in 2010; 1,624 in 2011; 1,034 in 2016. Conversely, the last few years are among the weakest of the entire series: 252 salmon in 2023; 121 in 2024; 141 in 2025; 216 in 2026. Of the 27 years between 2000 and 2026, only the totals for 2024 and 2025 are lower than that of 2026. The rebound is therefore visible, but it is occurring from a historical low. It is not bringing the river back close to its previous levels. The five-year averages show a step-like decline. Annual fluctuations can be misleading. Five-year averages provide a clearer picture of the underlying trend. 2000–2004: 859 salmon per year ; 2005–2009: 1,024 salmon per year ; 2010–2014: 974 salmon per year ; 2015–2019: 684 salmon per year ; 2020–2024: 421 salmon per year . This sequence shows persistent deterioration. The average falls by 29.8% between 2010–2014 and 2015–2019, and then by another 38.4% between 2015–2019 and 2020–2024. With 216 salmon, the 2026 run remains: 48.7% below the 2020–2024 average ; 68.4% below the 2015–2019 average ; 78.9% below the 2005–2009 average . In other words, 2026 represents barely 21% of the annual average observed between 2005 and 2009. The comparison with 2015–2024 remains a concern. Between 2015 and 2024, the Rivière aux Rochers recorded on average: 194.3 madeleines per year; 358.1 large salmon per year; 552.4 salmon in total. In 2026: the 137 madeleines remain 29.5% below their average ; the 79 large salmon remain 77.9% below their average ; the total of 216 remains 60.9% below the overall average . The situation of large salmon is particularly worrying. The 79 large salmon in 2026 represent only 22.1% of the 2015–2024 average . An increase of eight large salmon in one year does not allow us to conclude that the reproductive component has recovered. Egg deposition provides an indication of the deficit The official figures estimate the laying of 2025 at 0.43 million eggs . The conservation references for the Rivière aux Rochers are as follows: demographic threshold: 1.814 million eggs ; Optimal threshold: 5.805 million eggs . The 2025 filing therefore corresponds to only: 23.7% of the demographic threshold ; 7.4% of the optimal threshold . These results should not be automatically projected to 2026. The cage count confirms the number of fish that passed, but not their sex, their survival to spawning, their reproductive contribution, or the final deposition of eggs. Without this information, it is premature to present 2026 as the proven start of a recovery. What needs to be measured before talking about recovery Biological recovery cannot be demonstrated by a single annual improvement. It would be necessary to observe, in particular: several consecutive years of increase in large spawning salmon; an egg deposition that is sustainably approaching the demographic threshold; a measured improvement in fry and parr densities; an increase in smolt production; improved survival between egg, smolt and adult return; better return rates from the sea per cohort; habitat restoration results supported by before-and-after monitoring and, ideally, by control sites. The currently available data do not allow us to attribute the 2026 increase to habitat interventions. Nor do they demonstrate a lasting improvement in recruitment or marine survival. Set the record straight The title "A Better Season on the River of Rocks" isn't strictly wrong. The 2026 season is indeed better than the 2025 season. The problem lies in the framing: the total 2025 used by RiverNotes does not correspond to the official total; the increase depends mainly on the madeleines; the number of large salmon increases by only eight individuals; The upstream migration remains far below historical averages; No complete reproductive data are yet available for 2026. Good news should be able to withstand a full portrait. Otherwise, it's not yet a summary: it's just a framing. Rigour does not require denying the observed improvement. It requires measuring it with the right denominator, the right historical series, and the right biological indicators. 2026 is an improvement. It is not yet a recovery. Sources Ministry of the Environment, the Fight Against Climate Change, Wildlife and Parks. Review of Salmon Exploitation in Quebec in 2025 , table "Summary of Sport Fishing from 1984 to 2025 on the Rivière aux Rochers", pages 164–165. https://bibliotheque.cecile-rouleau.gouv.qc.ca/documents/archives/pgq/L6G48_B54/L6G48_B54_2025.pdf Atlantic Salmon Federation. RiverNotes — September 3, 2026 , section “A Better Season on the River of Rocks”. https://www.asf.ca/rivernotes-september-03-2026/ Final count 2026 communicated after the closure of the cage: 137 grilse, 79 large salmon, total of 216. This breakdown had not yet been spotted in an official publication of the MELCCFP accessible online at the time of writing. Government of Quebec. Atlantic Salmon Management Plan . https://www.quebec.ca/agriculture-environnement-et-ressources-naturelles/faune/gestion-faune-habitats-fauniques/gestion-especes-fauniques/plans-gestion/saumon-atlantique

And what if we now looked at what housing has actually produced? Editorial in response to the FQSA's August 2026 Science Newsletter — "What if the habitat was already here?" $17.172M | 414 km | ~9.36M UP | 11,121 potential adults When I read the latest FQSA Science News on housing, I stopped at one passage in particular. We are shown the Rimouski, the Mitis and the Madeleine. Three examples where human interventions have allowed salmon to access habitats that were previously inaccessible to them. And I'll start by saying this clearly: yes, habitat is important. Yes, opening up a good section of river can make a difference. Yes, some human interventions have yielded real results. I have no problem with that. The FQSA even makes an important distinction in its newsletter. For the Rimouski River, she explains that production potential has increased with accessible habitat, but she clarifies that this potential does not automatically correspond to population size. For the Mitis River, she writes that it would be too simplistic to attribute population changes solely to salmon transportation. And when she comes to the North Atlantic Salmon Habitat Development Program, she further specifies that the 11,121 adult salmon represent production potential, not a guaranteed population increase . Very well. That's precisely where my question begins. AFTER $17.172 MILLION, LET'S LOOK AT THE RESULT Because at some point, you have to go beyond the kilometers of river, beyond the production units and beyond the projections. Our research revisited the files river by river, project by project and dollar by dollar. First and foremost: we haven't found the missing $17 million. The funding is back on track. This needs to be stated as clearly as everything else. Migration passes have been built or improved. Obstacles have been removed. Historical structures have been consolidated. Salmon have passed through new passes. Anadromous reproduction has been demonstrated in some areas. Juveniles were observed upstream of some obstacles. In Sainte-Marguerite Northeast, we even obtained interesting results up to the salmon smolt stage. So no, this program hasn't been useless. But that's not the question I'm asking. The question is: WHAT DOES THIS WORK PRODUCE AT THE END OF THE CHAIN? We know how to measure concrete. Now, we need to measure the salmon that's returning. For the structures and passages, we have completed work, demonstrated operation and the use of certain passes. For reproduction and juveniles, we have upstream reproduction or juvenile responses demonstrated in some projects. For salmon smolts, some results are available, particularly in Sainte-Marguerite Northeast. But when we look at the additional adults attributable to the projects , we haven't identified a consistent total in the public documents we examined. And that's where it becomes important. THE 11,121: LET'S LOOK AT WHAT'S BEHIND THE NUMBER The figure of 11,121 potential adults is impressive. But it is built from only eight projects, and it is heavily concentrated in a few files. The values are modeled potentials , not additional adults observed. Here are the eight projects: Project Investment Potential adults Audit review Sainte-Marguerite Northeast $1.256 million 115 Strong results down to the smolts; attributable adults not isolated. La Corneille $0.819M 236 Connectivity and anadromous reproduction demonstrated; adult gain not quantified. Sheldrake $1.091 million 1,606 Adult returns observed; seeding still present in 2025. Mistassini $0.608M 137 Strong juvenile response; chain up to adults not publicly closed. Aguanus $1.644M 4,865 Passage and reproduction demonstrated; major remaining obstacle higher up. Saint John $2.642 million 1,712 Functional structure; adult window still recent. Mingan $2.257M 2,288 Pass used; long-term adult follow-up and metrics to be reconciled. Little Trinité $1.407M 162 The pass was constructed, but the second fall remains limiting. TOTAL $11.724 million 11,121 Combined theoretical potential of the eight projects. Concentration of potential Grouping Potential adults Share of the total Aguanus alone 4,865 43.7% Aguanus + Mingan + Saint-Jean 8,865 79.7% Aguanus + Mingan + Saint-Jean + Sheldrake 10,471 94.2% Total of the 8 projects 11,121 100% The immediate conclusion is striking: nearly 80% of the projected potential rests on just three projects, and 94.2% on four. Therefore, the quality of long-term biological monitoring becomes crucial, particularly for Aguanus, Mingan, Saint-Jean, and Sheldrake. In other words: Three projects represent nearly 80% of the potential. Four represent approximately 94%. These cases therefore need to be examined very closely. AGUANUS — THE BIGGEST PIECE OF POTENTIAL Aguanus alone represents 4,865 potential adults , nearly 44% of the total. The Trait-de-Scie pass is functioning and anadromous reproduction upstream has been demonstrated. That's a real result. But another major obstacle remains higher up, at the Fourth Falls. The right question, therefore, is not to say that the project has yielded nothing. The correct question is: What portion of the potential of 4865 was actually accessible thanks to the first structure? MINGAN — WHEN PERFORMANCE FIGURES DON'T EASILY RECONCILE The use of the pass is demonstrated. But the public documents examined report about 23% in 2018 , about 20% in 2019 , then a retrospective value of 38% for 2018-2019 . These numbers can be based on different denominators. So let's explain the denominators. And above all, let's publish the long-term biological series that would allow us to evaluate the post-development cohorts. SAINT-JEAN — DON'T JUDGE TOO SOON, BUT DON'T LOSE THE WINDOW The project is more recent. It would be unfair to conclude today that the potential of 1,712 adults has failed. But it is precisely for this reason that monitoring must be maintained now. The first cohorts benefiting from the new connectivity are beginning to enter their adult return window. SHELDRAKE — A REAL BIOLOGICAL RESPONSE, BUT NOT YET PROVEN AUTONOMY Adults return, and the mounting series is useful. But the 2025 report still confirms the stocking of 100,000 fry . We can therefore speak of a biological response and recovery. But not yet simply an autonomous population produced by the initial intervention. Our analysis also reveals something important about the current ability of public data to verify adult performance. Approximately 1,721 potential adults — 15.5% of the total — are associated with projects where an adult series is exploitable, but where attribution remains incomplete. Approximately 1,948 — 17.5% — are associated with projects where biological evidence or monitoring is intermediate or partial. And 7,452 potential adults — 67% of the total — are associated with projects where public adult data is insufficient to directly test the advertised potential. This classification does not judge the quality of the works. It simply measures the ability of current public data to verify adult performance. WE MUST STOP CONFUSING CAPACITY AND YIELD A river can have hundreds of thousands of production units without automatically producing the number of adults calculated in a model. A habitat can be excellent yet remain underutilized if it lacks breeding stock. A salmon smolt can leave a restored habitat and die at sea. A fish pass can function even if it is followed by a second obstacle. A fish population can increase while stocking and transporting fish continues. That is why potential is a planning tool. This is not a final assessment. And the August 2026 issue of Info Science itself gives us the best entry point for this discussion, since it recognizes that this is a potential and not a guaranteed increase in populations. So let's take this logic to its logical conclusion: If the potential isn't the result, let's show the result. I'm not trying to tear down the PMV. This research does not seek to demonstrate that the PMV was a failure. That would be wrong and too easy. There are some good projects in this program. There are some works that work. There is some high-quality scientific research. There are real intermediate biological results. There is also a $500,000 fund earmarked for the long-term maintenance of the structures, which is a good idea in principle. And our financial reconciliation does not show millions of dollars that have evaporated. The core weakness lies elsewhere: WE HAVE DOCUMENTED WHAT WE HAVE BUILT MUCH BETTER THAN WHAT THESE INVESTMENTS ARE PRODUCING TODAY IN ADDITIONAL ADULTS. BECAUSE THE NEXT DOLLAR HAS TO GO TO THE RIGHT PLACE If Corneille is actually producing significantly more salmon thanks to its new connectivity, we need to know. If Mistassini transforms his strong juvenile response into adult comebacks, we need to know. If Aguanus produces only a fraction of the potential of 4,865 because a second obstacle still limits the basin, we need to know. This is not to point the finger at those who worked on these projects. IT'S FOR LEARNING. Because the next restoration program should be better than the previous one. And to be better, you need to be able to compare investments with results. THE QUESTIONS THAT NEED TO BE ASKED NOW How many additional adults attributable to PMV interventions were actually measured, river by river? Are there any unpublished follow-up studies that allow tracking of cohorts until they return to adulthood? How was the potential of 4,865 adults at Aguanus calculated given the residual obstacle mentioned above? Why do Mingan performance values differ across documents, and which series should be used as a reference? How many of the 414 km are currently accessible and used without seeding, transport or other human intervention? How many of the approximately 9.36 million UPs are actually occupied by anadromous salmon? What is the current balance of the $500,000 maintenance fund and what projects have been funded since the end of the program? THE QUESTION THAT REMAINS Info Science poses the following question: "What if the habitat was already there?" Having thoroughly examined the PMV Côte-Nord project, I would simply add: WHAT IF WE NOW LOOKED AT WHAT THIS HABITAT HAS ACTUALLY PRODUCED? We know the $17.172 million raised. We know the 414 kilometers of river. We know the approximately 9.36 million production units. We know the potential of 11,121 adult salmon. NOW, LET'S SHOW THE SALMON. Not in a formula. Not in a projection. Not in a "could produce" scenario. How many additional adult salmon actually return as a result of these investments? If the answer exists, let's publish it. If it doesn't already exist, let's finally build the monitoring system that will allow us to obtain it. Because a restoration program should not end when the concrete is poured, when a fish pass is opened, or when a fish passes through the structure for the first time. It should end when we are able to look at the river a few years later and answer a very simple question: HOW MANY MORE SALMON ARE RETURNING BECAUSE OF WHAT WE DID? Main sources [1] Quebec Federation for Atlantic Salmon (FQSA), Info Science — August 2026, “What if the habitat was already there?” [2] Quebec Federation for Atlantic Salmon, Final Report of the Atlantic Salmon Habitat Enhancement Program of the North Shore — 2010-2020 review. [3] Quebec Federation for Atlantic Salmon, PMV annual reports, notably 2015, 2016 and 2018-2019-2020. [4] MELCCFP, Salmon farming in Quebec — 2025 review. [5] Consolidated audit PMV Côte-Nord 2026 — financial reconciliation, river-by-river fact sheets, potential analysis, biological monitoring and documentary anomalies. Methodological note: The terms "potential adults," "theoretical potential," and "adult yield" are intentionally distinguished. The absence of an attributable public total does not mean the absence of biological benefits; it means that the final adult yield cannot be consistently quantified across the public records examined.

Management Plan 2020-2028 — Analysis of the plan, its summary and the 2026 assessment In 2020, Quebec launched its first Brook Trout Management Plan 2020-2028 with a finding that should have sounded the alarm throughout the province: more than half of the brook trout populations in lakes were considered to be in a situation of overexploitation. The detailed portrait was even more disturbing. According to the diagnosis presented in the full plan, only 21% of the assessed populations were considered to be in equilibrium . The others were distributed between 17% in recent overexploitation, 34% in advanced overexploitation and 28% in recovery [1]. In other words, at the time the plan was put in place, barely one in five populations could be considered in balance . Therefore, the situation did not require a minor regulatory adjustment. Quebec was facing a much deeper problem concerning exploitation, habitat productivity, population quality, and their capacity for renewal. The Ministry itself acknowledged that despite a general decrease in fishing pressure between 1980 and 2010, fishing yield and success had decreased, and more than 50% of the populations analyzed were in a situation of overexploitation [2]. Six years later, the 2026 Assessment finally allows us to see what has been done. And it must be said: a lot has been done. But we must also ask the uncomfortable question: Are brook trout populations actually doing better? Upon reviewing the 2026 report, the answer essentially remains: We don't know yet. A problem that had already been clearly identified The 2020-2028 plan was based on a relatively solid scientific foundation. More than 180 lake inventories were analyzed to establish the overall picture. The assessment showed that mortality exceeded the renewal capacity in more than half of the populations studied. The Ministry also emphasized that the situation remained concerning in both structured wildlife territories and open territories [2]. But above all, the plan provided an extremely important explanation: the overexploitation of brook trout can be difficult to perceive at first. A population experiencing high mortality can temporarily compensate. The growth or abundance of certain fish species can even give the impression that the situation remains acceptable. But if this exploitation continues, the consequences gradually become visible: fewer large fish, decreased abundance and, ultimately, a reduction in the number of mature females and reproductive potential [2]. This is probably one of the most important findings of the entire plan. A good day of fishing is not automatically proof that a population is healthy. And waiting for fishing success to collapse before intervening sometimes means waiting until the problem is already well established. FIGURE 1 — Status of populations at initial diagnosis Distribution of brook trout populations in lakes according to the diagnosis presented in Figure 13 of the complete plan [1]: 21% — Balance 17% — Recent overexploitation 34% — Advanced overexploitation 28% — Recovery The figure that should stay in mind is simple: only 21% were classified as balanced. And 51% were directly in the two categories of overexploitation. A plan that is much broader than regulation One of the merits of the 2020-2028 Management Plan is that it did not reduce the problem to the sole daily limit on catches. The plan includes approximately 70 measures affecting exploitation, quotas, habitats, allopatric populations, introduced species, seeding, awareness-raising and knowledge acquisition [2]. That was the right approach. Because you cannot sustainably protect a population simply by reducing the harvest if, at the same time, its spawning grounds are degraded, its waterways are fragmented, competing species are introduced, the water temperature increases or its natural productivity decreases. The plan explicitly recognizes habitat degradation, loss of allopatry and climate change as factors that may contribute to population decline [2]. Based on the diagnosis, Quebec had therefore correctly identified the problem. The question then becomes: Have we transformed this diagnosis into measurable results? What has actually been achieved since 2020 It would be unfair to claim that nothing has been done. The 2026 report, on the contrary, demonstrates several concrete advances. The daily catch limit has been reduced in 10 areas or parts of areas , while some fishing periods have been harmonized [3]. Work continues to revise annual quotas in structured wildlife territories so that harvests correspond more closely to the natural productivity of water bodies [3]. The Ministry has also developed or improved seeding plans, administrative tools, diagnostic methods and various awareness-raising measures. But two achievements stand out in particular. 125 lakes: probably the most important scientific investment in the plan Since 2020, Quebec has structured a provincial monitoring network of approximately 125 lakes . These bodies of water, distributed in the different fishing areas and as much in free territory as in structured wildlife territories, must be inventoried according to cycles of five or ten years [3]. In my opinion, this is probably the most important tool created in the entire plan . For what? Because it will finally allow us to track the same populations over time with a comparable methodology. We could potentially ask a genuine scientific question: Before the measures were implemented, what was the state of this population? Then : Five or ten years later, is it better, stable or worse? This is exactly what was missing from the previous picture. In the initial plan, only two bodies of water had been sampled twice over a long period, which practically prevented any real provincial temporal analysis [1]. The network of 125 lakes can therefore completely change our ability to track brook trout. But in 2026, let's be clear: The network exists; its long-term results, however, are not yet available. Allopatry: a true priority that is beginning to be taken seriously The case of allopatric populations is particularly important. These lakes, where brook trout are naturally the only fish species, constitute a unique biological heritage of Quebec. However, about 70% of the areas formerly in allopatry have lost this characteristic , mainly as a result of the voluntary or accidental introduction of other species [2]. The 2026 report shows much more concrete work in this area. Allopatry has notably been verified by environmental DNA in 110 lakes distributed across six regions , in parallel with the construction of a more detailed provincial map [3]. A guide on the use of rotenone has also been produced to frame certain restorations of lakes invaded by undesirable species [3]. This is a real step forward. Here, we are not just talking about raising awareness: we are improving our knowledge of the territory and our intervention capabilities. Housing: money and projects, but now we need to measure the results The report also indicates that more than $1.8 million has been invested in projects related in particular to the protection of allopatry, restoration, connectivity of habitats and improvement of management practices [3]. Work is also being carried out to better understand the importance of small forest streams, to improve the estimation of natural productivity and to identify culverts that may prevent the free movement of fish [3]. Once again: very good management. But eventually, a proper assessment should be able to answer this with simple figures: How many problematic culverts have been corrected? How many kilometers of habitat have been reconnected? How many spawning grounds have been restored? How many populations have demonstrated a measurable increase in productivity after intervention? Investing $1.8 million is a measure of the effort. This is not yet a measure of the biological outcome. And this distinction is fundamental. TABLE — Where are we really in 2026? Stake Situation or objective 2026 Review What's still missing Population status More than 50% overexploited at diagnosis No new provincial percentage New biological profile comparable to 2020 Populations in balance Only 21% in the initial portrait No new proportion published Measuring the evolution of the 21% Grip limits Reduce fishing mortality Discounts in 10 zones or parts of zones Measured biological effect of these reductions TFS quotas Adapting the harvest to productivity Revision still in progress Number of lakes revised and population response Scientific network Improve long-term monitoring Approximately 125 lakes monitored Results of the second inventories Allopatry Protecting unique populations 110 lakes validated by DNAe Protected area and number of restored populations Habitat Improve productivity and connectivity Over $1.8 million invested Quantified biological results Culverts Identify the obstacles LiDAR project and protocol under development Corrected number and reconnected habitat Back in the water Reduce mortality Awareness tools Actual measurement of mortality and practices Climate change Recognized as a limiting factor Few climate indicators are presented in the report Temperature, thermal refuges, regional vulnerability Sea trout Anadromous populations of concern Outside the Main Plan Separate and updated assessment of anadromous populations 70 measures of the Plan Implementation 2020-2028 Summary of "main actions" Comprehensive table: completed/in progress/not completed Release back into the water: a figure that should give us pause There was also one particularly striking element in the original synthesis. Approximately 25% of catches were released , and the Department estimated that post-release mortality could reach 35 to 50% when natural bait was used . At the scale of the fishery assessed at that time, the document estimated that this mortality could represent approximately 1.6 million fish annually [2]. This is not insignificant. The 2026 report now mentions posters, leaflets and videos dedicated to good practices for releasing fish back into the water [3]. It's necessary. But after six years of management planning, it would also be useful to know: Has this estimated mortality rate decreased? Do fishermen use natural baits less often when they plan to release their catches back into the water? Have manipulation practices changed? Once again, we know the action taken. We know much less about its actual effectiveness. The major omission: climate change The original plan recognizes climate change among the factors likely to affect the natural productivity of brook trout [2]. And that makes perfect sense. We are talking about a cold-water fish. Temperature directly influences the amount of habitat available, oxygen requirements, food, metabolism, movement, and potentially survival. However, when I look at the 2026 assessment, I find that the climate dimension remains far too discreet compared to the importance it is likely to take on in the coming decades. I would have liked to see a proper provincial chart showing, in particular: The most vulnerable lakes and watersheds; The evolution of summer temperatures; The availability of thermal shelters; Areas where thermal housing is at risk of contracting; Populations located near their physiological limits; The management adjustments under consideration. A management plan for a cold water species that extends beyond 2028 will no longer be able to treat climate adaptation as a secondary issue. And what about the North Shore? The sea trout issue remains a special case. Finally, there is one major element that we must not forget when we talk about the North Shore: the anadromous brook trout, our sea trout. The summary document already recognized that sport catch data and scientific monitoring available since the 1980s indicated a decline in the abundance and size of catches in several well-known populations [2]. However, these populations were deliberately not included in the 2020-2028 Management Plan , as their ecology is sufficiently different from that of the resident populations. The Ministry had instead developed an Action Plan 2019-2022 which was intended in particular to establish a specific monitoring network for the anadromous char and to improve knowledge of its habitats [2]. This means something important: The famous figure of more than 50% of overexploited populations does not constitute a complete picture of the situation of sea trout on the North Shore. That's another matter. And since the decline of several anadromous populations was already recognized in government documents before 2020, we now need a truly updated assessment of this 2019-2022 Action Plan. What is the current situation for the population? Has the specific monitoring network actually been implemented? Which populations are being monitored? What is the evolution of abundance? What is the trend in fish size? What critical habitats have been identified? What conservation measures have been taken? For the North Shore, these answers are essential. The biggest problem with the 2026 balance sheet This is ultimately what bothers me the most. The document published in 2026 is presented as a review of the first five years, but the Ministry itself specifies that it is a portrait of the main actions carried out [3]. The plan contains approximately 70 measures . I would have liked to find a much simpler accountability table: Measure 1: completed. Measure 2: in progress. Measure 3: not implemented. Measure 4: postponed. And so on up to measure 70. Each one contains: a schedule; a manager; an indicator; the expected result; the result obtained; and, where possible, the observed biological effect. This table is not present. Consequence: We are not actually able to say what percentage of the Management Plan has been implemented. 40%? 60%? 80%? We don't know from this assessment. Most importantly, we still don't know the new biological profile That's the heart of the problem. In 2020: 21% at equilibrium. 17% in recent overexploitation. 34% in advanced overexploitation. 28% in recovery. And in 2026? We don't have a comparable new provincial picture. That's where I draw a very important line. I wouldn't say the Management Plan is a failure. That would be unfair and scientifically premature. Important tools have been created. Boundaries have been reduced. Quotas are being revised. Habitats are being studied. Projects are being funded. Environmental DNA is being used. A network of 125 lakes is now in place. All of this matters. But I would also not say that the 2026 assessment demonstrates that the Plan is working biologically. It demonstrates that actions have been taken . It does not yet demonstrate that the populations have recovered . This distinction must be understood. One sentence from the 2026 report says a lot The Ministry itself indicates that despite the actions undertaken since 2020, more than five years of additional efforts will be needed before a significant improvement in the condition of the populations can be observed [3]. The year is 2026. Five more years will take us to at least 2031. However, the current Plan ends in 2028 . Therefore, there is a logical conclusion to be drawn: 2028 will probably not be the end of the work. This will be more like the end of the first phase. The next plan must ensure the continuity of the monitoring network and begin to produce what we have been waiting for from the start: measurable biological trends. What Quebec should publish in 2028 In my opinion, the final report should contain at least: 1. A new provincial portrait of the state of the populations , with exactly the same categories as the initial portrait in order to allow a direct comparison. 2. The percentage of populations now considered to be in equilibrium. Is it still 21%? 25%? or 35%? This is probably the simplest indicator to know if we are making progress. 3. The evolution of the biomass of mature females and reproductive potential. 4. The evolution of abundance and age structure. 5. The biological results of changes in quotas and catch limits. 6. The number of allopatric populations protected, restored or lost since 2020. 7. Kilometers of habitat reconnected and the number of culverts actually corrected. 8. An assessment of the effects of climate change and water temperature. 9. A complete table of the approximately 70 measures of the Plan: completed, in progress, delayed or abandoned. 10. A separate and comprehensive assessment of the anadromous brook trout. Conclusion — managing is not just about taking action, it's about demonstrating that our actions work The Brook Trout Management Plan 2020-2028 was necessary. The diagnosis was concerning, and several of the measures taken were going in the right direction. The 2026 report also demonstrates that the issue has not been abandoned. The scientific network is improving, projects are being funded, tools are being developed, and several interventions are underway. These advances must be acknowledged. But protecting a species is not just about producing guides, funding projects, changing regulations or creating platforms. The real result is in the water. How many populations are now healthy? How many have recovered? How many continue to decline? How many breeding animals have we protected? How many habitats have we actually recovered? And most importantly: Are we still at 21% of populations in equilibrium, or have we truly succeeded in moving the needle? That is the question the next assessment will have to answer. Because in 2020, we already knew that more than half of the assessed populations were overexploited. By 2026, we will know much better what has been done . Now, we need to know if it works . And if the Ministry itself believes that it will take more than five years to see a significant improvement, then we must start preparing for the post-2028 period today. Not by starting from scratch. But by using the tools that have been built to finally move from an action review to a true assessment of the state of the resource . Because ultimately, it is not our intentions, our programs, or our documents that will determine the future of the brook trout. These will be the fish that will still be present in our lakes and rivers to reproduce tomorrow. Sources [1] Government of Quebec — Ministry of Forests, Wildlife and Parks. Quebec Brook Trout Management Plan 2020-2028 — full document. See in particular the section “Status of Populations”, Figure 13: 21% at equilibrium, 17% recently overexploited, 34% in advanced overexploitation and 28% in recovery. [2] Government of Quebec — Ministry of Forests, Wildlife and Parks. Brook Trout Management Plan for Quebec 2020-2028 — Summary Document , 2019. Diagnosis of populations, overexploitation, mortality on release, allopatry, 70 measures and status of anadromous brook trout. [3] Government of Quebec — Ministry of the Environment, the Fight Against Climate Change, Wildlife and Parks. Brook Trout Management Plan 2020 — 2026 Review , 2026. Reduction of limits in 10 zones or parts of zones, DNAe in 110 lakes, provincial network of approximately 125 lakes, investments of over $1.8 million, habitat projects and conclusion on additional efforts required.

Before the first CAST Analysis of the Atlantic Salmon Federation's RiverNotes dated August 13, 2026, with scientific context and official data from Quebec. Good local news is good news. It does not automatically become proof of provincial recovery. The ASF correctly puts heat at the center of the debate. But its own text also reveals the heart of the Quebec problem: only 4 rivers have a formal provincial regulatory mechanism, while the other 110 rely on local means [1]. Preface This analysis is not intended to attack the Atlantic Salmon Federation (ASF), nor to downplay the good news of 2026. On the contrary: several elements of the August 13 RiverNotes are useful, responsible, and deserve to be highlighted. The ASF speaks openly about temperature, funds thermographs, works to standardize instrument calibration, supports local managers, and showcases thermal mapping work elsewhere in the salmon range [1]. But when a conservation document highlights improvements in upstream migration on a few major rivers while describing a heat protocol that formally covers only four rivers in Quebec, the two messages must be considered together. The goal here is therefore to distinguish what the RiverNotes document actually demonstrates, what it suggests, what it leaves unanswered, and what should logically follow if we want to move from data collection to genuine heat risk management. Executive Summary ASF states that 2026 so far represents a significant improvement compared to the previous two years, while dedicating its Quebec section to heat, thermographs and positive signals on the Matapédia and the Grande Cascapédia [1]. RiverNotes confirms that only four Quebec rivers are formally covered by the MELCCFP heat protocol and that the other 110 rely on local means [1]. The Quebec regulatory threshold for closure is above 22°C in the morning when conditions are likely to persist; the government specifies that high temperatures reduce the survival of salmon released back into the water [2]. The scientific literature does not support presenting 22°C as the point where the risk begins. A 2020 Canadian review found release mortality rates of 7 to 33% between 18 and 20°C (average 16%) and 14 to 61% between 20 and 25°C (average 35%), with high variability between studies [5]. The 2025 report of the MELCCFP provides an essential reminder of the context: -45% for the total upstream migration and -68% for the multi-sea-winter salmon (MSW) / large salmon rivers compared to the five-year average of the same 32 rivers, despite +10% for the grilse / one-sea-winter salmon (1SW) rivers [3]. Conclusion: Thermographs and thermal shelters are necessary, but data is not a conservation measure unless it is linked to triggers, temporary closures, reopening criteria and consistent communication at the provincial level. Verdict: RiverNotes makes the right diagnosis - heat is the elephant in the room - but it remains too cautious on the crucial question: what do we do, concretely and uniformly, when the data shows that the risk increases? 1. What the RiverNotes actually says The Quebec section is signed by Caroline Côté, Quebec program director. She begins by identifying the temperature as "the elephant in the room" and points out that four rivers—Malbaie, à Mars, Petit-Saguenay, and Saint-Jean (Saguenay)—are formally covered by the MELCCFP's heat protocol. The described mechanism provides for a temporary closure of at least 72 hours when the water reaches 22°C in the morning and the forecast remains unfavourable [1]. The text then adds that the other 110 salmon rivers in Quebec "govern themselves with their local resources." The ASF describes its support to the Gaspé Rivers Management Society and Sipuminu for the acquisition of thermographs, as well as its work to share a protocol in French aimed at data calibration and comparability [1]. Finally, RiverNotes highlights encouraging results: 1,751 large salmon were counted on the Matapedia River as of July 30, representing a 62% increase compared to 2025 and a 12% increase compared to the 2019-2024 average for the same date. On the Grande Cascapédia River, June saw 408 salmon counts (up 31%) and July 350 salmon, already exceeding the July 2025 count [1]. These comparisons are interesting because, for the Matapédia region, ASF compares equivalent dates. They support a positive local signal. However, they are not sufficient to describe the situation of the entire Quebec population. 2. What is solid and useful in ASF's message There are several commendable aspects to this RiverNotes report. First, ASF does not deny the thermal issue. It explicitly places it at the heart of its Quebec section. Second, the investment in thermographs and data quality is relevant: without comparable time series, it becomes difficult to distinguish a one-off event from a lasting change in the thermal regime. Work on calibration is particularly important. Poorly calibrated, poorly positioned, or used instruments with different methods can make comparisons unreliable. The idea of strengthening local capacity and enabling managers to understand their own river is therefore defensible and constructive [1]. ASF is also right to talk about thermal refuges. In its Research and Environment section, the organization describes significant thermal imaging work on the Margaree River in Nova Scotia, with the explicit goal of translating thermal mapping into protection decisions, restoration priorities, and mitigation measures [1]. Scientific work conducted in Canada also shows that thermal refuges are dynamic and that their availability varies depending on hydrological conditions and the type of refuge [7]. What makes RiverNotes particularly interesting is that it provides its own logical framework: acquisition -> understanding -> action. The question then becomes whether this chain truly exists in Quebec for the 110 rivers not covered by regulatory protocols. 3. The real blind spot: measuring is not managing Perhaps the most significant figure in the Quebec section isn't the Matapédia River. It's the ratio of 4 to 110. ASF explains that four rivers are covered by the provincial regulatory protocol, while all the others rely on local measures [1]. The Quebec government confirms that in 2026, four rivers are subject to possible closures when temperatures become critical [2]. This does not mean that the other 110 rivers all have the same thermal risk or that they should all be closed at the same temperatures. Populations, flows, habitats, refuges, and fishing pressures differ from river to river. The government also states that the four selected rivers were identified as priorities based on several criteria, including temperature, population status, and vulnerability to fishing activities [2]. But this nuance doesn't solve the governance problem. When an uncovered river reaches a state of thermal stress, who decides? What threshold is used? Over what period? What data is considered authoritative? What closure is implemented? What are the reopening rules? How is the angler informed? And above all: can two neighboring rivers with the same temperatures be managed in completely different ways simply because they don't have the same local resources? A thermograph answers the question "what is it?". A protocol answers the question "what do we do now?". These are two different tools. 4. 22°C: regulatory threshold, not a magic biological line The Quebec government indicates that a closure can be triggered when the water temperature exceeds 22°C in the morning and that this situation is likely to persist. It also explains that warm water reduces available oxygen, increases stress, and decreases the survival rate of salmon caught and released [2]. However, extreme precision is necessary: the fact that a regulatory threshold is set at 22°C does not mean that salmon is biologically safe at 21.9°C. Management decisions transform a gradual biological reality into an operational criterion. Science clearly shows that the risk increases below 22°C. A review published in 2020 in the Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences compiled available studies on post-release mortality. At temperatures below 12°C, mortality was generally low (<5%). Between 18 and 20°C, observed mortalities ranged from 7% to 33%, with an average of 16%. Between 20 and 25°C, they ranged from 14% to 61%, with an average of 35%. The authors emphasize the variability between studies, particularly at higher temperatures [5]. A more recent study, published in 2024, observed 4 mortalities out of 18 salmon released at temperatures >=20 °C (22.2%), compared to 4 out of 96 at <=20 °C (4.2%); one of these four mortalities below 20 °C was attributed to a hook injury. The authors conclude that the temperature at the time of capture remains a particularly useful predictor of survival after release [6]. As early as 1996, Wilkie and his colleagues had documented a more difficult physiological recovery in warm water and significant delayed mortality in a subgroup caught at 22°C [4]. 5. The good news of 2026: to be celebrated, not generalized ASF is right to highlight the results from the Matapédia and Grande Cascapédia rivers. A 62% increase in large salmon on the Matapédia compared to 2025 and a level 12% higher than the 2019-2024 average at the same date are encouraging signs [1]. They indicate that 2026 could represent a better year on some major rivers. But the interpretation must remain rigorous. First, this is data from the current season, not a complete provincial assessment. Second, two major rivers do not automatically represent the state of all populations in Quebec. Third, an increase compared to 2024 or 2025—two very low years in several areas—may be significant in percentage terms while still being insufficient to conclude that there has been a sustainable recovery. The improvement must therefore be formulated correctly: “several major rivers show very positive signs in 2026.” This is not the same as “Quebec populations have returned to normal.” RiverNotes does not provide, in its Quebec section, the data necessary to support this second conclusion [1]. A good year is an opportunity to maximize reproduction. It should not become a reason to reduce caution precisely when more spawners are present in the river. 6. The context that cannot be forgotten: the 2025 Assessment To understand the significance of the good news for 2026, we need to remember where we started. The MELCCFP's 2025 report indicates that 13,133 adult salmon were observed in the 34 rivers surveyed. Of the 32 rivers with data for each of the last six years, the total run in 2025 was 45% below the five-year average, the multi-sea-winter salmon (MSW) / large salmon 68% below average, while the grilse were 10% above [3]. The same report also indicates that the small salmon sport fishery harvest was 75% below the five-year average, the large salmon harvest was 72% lower, river traffic was down 29%, and permit sales were down 22% [3]. The ministry specifies that several factors contributed to the operating data: low returns, more restrictive regulations, and measures to protect large salmon. This context does not negate the improvement observed in 2026. It simply prevents us from too quickly transforming an annual improvement into a conclusion of recovery. 2026 should be judged in relation to a trajectory, not just in relation to the two weakest years preceding it. 7. The RiverNotes itself provides an instructive contrast In the New Brunswick section of the same RiverNotes, ASF reports that warm water protocols have been activated or expanded on the Miramichi, Nepisiguit, and Upsalquitch rivers. The organization reminds anglers to check the current restrictions [1]. In the Research section, ASF explains that thermal mapping of the Margaree River is used to locate refuges, identify sources of thermal pollution, establish restoration priorities, and inform mitigation plans. The message is clear: the data must be used to make decisions [1]. The legal frameworks and biological realities of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Quebec are not identical. It would therefore be simplistic to simply copy a rule from one province to another. But it is equally difficult to ignore the contrast: in the same bulletin, the ASF elsewhere describes active protocols and an explicit "data-to-action" chain, while in Quebec it primarily emphasizes the local capacity for measurement and interpretation. The question is not: should we choose between local science and a provincial protocol? We need both. Local data improves decision-making; a provincial framework ensures that the decision actually exists. 8. The questions that RiverNotes leaves open Why do only four rivers have a regulatory heat protocol in place by 2026? What specific criteria would allow a fifth, tenth, or twentieth river to enter the scheme? What mechanism applies to uncovered rivers when temperatures reach levels associated with a documented increase in the risk of mortality after release? At what temperature should public communication shift from "be careful" to an operational restriction? Will the data collected by thermographs be publicly accessible on a daily basis, or only for research purposes? How can we prevent purely local management from creating different thresholds, methods, and responses for biologically comparable situations? How to integrate population size, the proportion of large salmon, flow rate and the availability of refuges into closure decisions? How will the positive results of 2026 be interpreted when the complete provincial assessment is available - and not just that of a few major rivers? These are not accusations. These are the normal questions that a proper conservation protocol should be able to answer before the next heat wave. 9. Clear answer The Atlantic Salmon Federation's RiverNotes of August 13, 2026, is worth reading because it finally puts into words what many salmon anglers have been saying for a long time: in August, water temperature is indeed the elephant in the room. On that point, I completely agree with the ASF. Where I disagree is when they move from stating the facts to proposing a concrete solution. The ASF points out that only four rivers – Malbaie, à Mars, Petit-Saguenay and Saint-Jean du Saguenay – are formally covered by the MELCCFP heat protocol. For the other 110 salmon rivers in Quebec, we are essentially told that managers are working with their local resources [1]. This is precisely where the problem becomes impossible to circumvent. I am fully in favor of thermographs. I support uniform calibration. I support the study of thermal refuges, thermal imaging, and ensuring that local agencies own and understand their data. All of this is necessary. But we must stop confusing a thermometer with a conservation policy. Measuring a river at 20, 21, or 22°C will not protect any salmon if no one has determined in advance what will happen when the temperature reaches a concerning level. Quebec now has a regulatory trigger that can lead to a closure above 22°C in the morning when conditions are likely to persist [2]. This is a management threshold. It is not a biological boundary. Scientific literature published over the past few decades shows that the effects of fishing and catch-and-release become more concerning below 22°C. A 2020 Canadian review reports that, between 18 and 20°C, release mortality rates range from 7% to 33%, with an average of 16%. Between 20 and 25°C, the reported average rises to 35%, with very high variability between studies [5]. In other words, we need to stop talking as if everything is fine up to 21.9°C and suddenly becomes dangerous at 22°C. This doesn't mean that a salmon caught at 19°C will die. Nor does it mean that an automatic closure at 18°C is scientifically mandatory everywhere. That would be just as simplistic. It means that the risk increases progressively and that management should also be progressive: increased monitoring, reduced effort, mandatory or strictly regulated practices, time restrictions, and then temporary closure when conditions warrant it. I also want to be very clear about the good news for 2026. Yes, the Matapedia River is showing a very encouraging sign. As of July 30, ASF reports 1,751 large salmon, 62% more than in 2025 and 12% above the 2019-2024 average for the same date [1]. Yes, the Grande Cascapedia River is also showing a positive trend. That's great. That's exactly what we want to see. But a strong Matapédia and an encouraging Grande Cascapédia do not represent all of Quebec. An improvement compared to 2024 and 2025 should not erase the context in which 2026 begins. The MELCCFP's own 2025 assessment shows a total run 45% below the five-year average on the same 32 rivers and a 68% deficit among the reedbeds [3]. The good news of 2026 must therefore be protected, not used as a tranquilizer. This is probably what bothers me most about the way we talk about salmon. As soon as one or two rivers have a good year, we breathe a sigh of relief and start talking about things returning to normal. But when a small river only has a few dozen or a few hundred salmon, its margin for error isn't the same as the Matapédia's. A serious policy must be able to recognize this difference. The ASF itself states in the same RiverNotes that its thermal mapping of the Margaree River should be used to guide protection decisions, restoration priorities, and mitigation measures [1]. This is precisely the model that needs to be applied: from data to action. If we install thermographs on Quebec rivers, we must first know what decisions this data will trigger. The debate is therefore not between fishermen and biologists, nor between closing all rivers and doing nothing. It is between improvising management when the heat arrives and preparing for it beforehand. A modern provincial protocol could very well retain local flexibility. It could take into account morning temperature, flow rate, weather trends, population size, the proportion of large salmon, and the presence of thermal refuges. But the basic principles, measurement methods, risk levels, intervention criteria, and reopening rules should be known to everyone before the start of the season. This isn't about closing the fishing season for the sake of closing it. It's exactly the opposite. A clear protocol allows for short, targeted, and predictable closures when they are truly necessary, rather than letting a river reach a point where much harsher measures might become unavoidable. So yes, I applaud the ASF's RiverNotes. I applaud the thermographs, the comparable data, and the good news for 2026. But if temperature is truly the elephant in the room, we need to stop simply measuring it. We need to decide what we're going to do when it rises up before us. And most importantly, it must be decided before the next heat wave - not during. 10. What a coherent answer might contain This analysis does not claim to establish the definitive biological protocol for Quebec. However, it does allow us to identify the components that a credible protocol should contain. Standardized provincial measurement method: location, reading time, depth, calibration and validation of probes. Progressive risk levels rather than a single binary threshold: information, increased caution, operational restrictions, temporary closure. Integration of flow rate and weather forecasts, since the same temperature does not necessarily have the same meaning under all conditions. Taking into account the size and condition of the population: a small vulnerable river does not have the same cushion as a large system. Explicit protection of thermal refuges when they concentrate fish, with a clear rule on the rest of the river to avoid inconsistent management. Reopening criteria known in advance and applied transparently. Rapid publication of temperatures, flow rates, closures and reopenings so that fishermen can make their decisions before travelling. Annual evaluation of the protocol: observed mortality, thermal episodes, use of refuges, fishing effort and economic effect of closures. Official mechanism allowing new rivers to be added quickly to the protocol without waiting several years for administrative procedures. The best protocol is not the one that closes the most. It's the one that protects at the right time, reopens at the right time, and gives everyone the same rules of the game. 11. Historical context – why one good year is not enough Compilation of data from the 1984-2025 working period based on data from the MELCCFP's 2025 Balance Sheet [3]. The series is used to visualize the trajectory; it does not replace standardized river-by-river analyses. This long series reveals cycles, recoveries, and troughs. Above all, it serves as a reminder of why comparisons must be made across multiple cohorts. A population can experience a very good year in the midst of a fragile trend, just as a single bad year is not enough to signal a collapse. The cautious conclusion is therefore as follows: 2026 brings encouraging signs that must be monitored until the end of the season and compared river by river with consistent reference periods. These results do not exempt Quebec from immediately improving its thermal risk management. Conclusion The RiverNotes of August 13, 2026 is more important than it looks. In a few paragraphs, it brings together almost all the pieces of the puzzle: summer warming, heat protocols, thermographs, thermal refuges, local data, good runs on some large rivers and the need to turn knowledge into action [1]. The main weakness of Quebec's message, therefore, is not what it says, but what it doesn't fully commit to. If climate is the elephant in the room, and if 110 rivers still rely primarily on local resources, the next logical step isn't simply to install more instruments. It's to build a clear decision-making framework, consistent in its principles and adaptable in its application. The good news of 2026 should give us room to act intelligently. It shouldn't become an excuse to wait for the next crisis. When more salmon return, the best conservation response is to maximize their chances of reaching spawning grounds in the best possible conditions. We can celebrate 2026 and demand better at the same time. This is not contradictory: it is exactly what responsible management should do. Numbered sources [1] Atlantic Salmon Federation (ASF). Rivernotes August 13, 2026. Phil Monahan (ed.), with Quebec section by Caroline Côté. Published August 13, 2026. https://www.asf.ca/rivernotes-august-13-2026/ [2] Government of Quebec - MELCCFP. Regulatory management of salmon fishing based on river temperature. Updated June 5, 2026. Closure criterion: water >22°C in the morning when the situation is likely to continue; four rivers targeted in 2026. [3] Ministry of the Environment, the Fight Against Climate Change, Wildlife and Parks (MELCCFP). Salmon Exploitation in Quebec - 2025 Assessment. Official report provided for this analysis. The report covers abundance and exploitation from 1984 to 2025. [4] Wilkie, MP et al. (1996). Physiology and Survival of Wild Atlantic Salmon following Angling in Warm Summer Waters. Transactions of the American Fisheries Society, 125(4), 572-580. DOI: 10.1577/1548-8659(1996)125<0572>2.3.CO;2. [5] Lennox, RJ et al. (2020). Mortality of Atlantic salmon after catch and release angle: assessment of a recreational Atlantic salmon fishery in a changing climate. Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences, 77(9), 1518-1528. DOI: 10.1139/cjfas-2019-0400. [6] Van Leeuwen, TE et al. (2024). Water temperature at the time of the catch-and-release event is a better predictor of survival in Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) than acute water temperature changes before and after. Journal of Fish Biology. DOI: 10.1111/jfb.15667. [7] Dugdale, SJ et al. (2013). Temporal variability of thermal refuges and water temperature patterns in an Atlantic salmon river. Remote Sensing of Environment, 136, 358-373. DOI: 10.1016/j.rse.2013.05.018. Methodological note The 2026 data cited for the Matapédia and Grande Cascapédia rivers are current seasonal data reported by ASF. They are used as local indicators, not as a final provincial assessment. The 2025 data come from the official MELCCFP report. Scientific results on post-release mortality show real variability between studies; they are used here to demonstrate a risk gradient, not to propose a universal mortality rate applicable to each river.

New section — Analysis Series With Before the First Cast , my goal has always been to put the salmon before the fishing, to better understand our rivers, and to give anglers the tools they need to make more responsible decisions. Today, I'm adding a new, more technical subsection to the blog: the Analysis Series . This series will go beyond the usual segments. It will serve to examine in depth publications, management decisions, scientific reports, tables, graphs and certain claims circulating in the salmon community. Each analysis will seek to answer simple, but essential questions: Does the message presented actually correspond to the studies? Are the data being used correctly? Do the proposed thresholds truly protect salmon? Is a distinction made between an administrative threshold and a biological threshold? What important information has been simplified, omitted, or taken out of context? The Analysis Series will not be designed to attack any organization, river, or person. Rather, its objective will be to compare messages with available knowledge, to recognize what is done well, to highlight what needs to be nuanced, and to propose improvements where necessary. The articles may include: a clear context; a point-by-point analysis; comparative tables; graphs; the results of the main studies; numbered sources; the limits and uncertainties; a practical conclusion for fishermen and managers. Initial analysis: Matane versus Nova Scotia The first publication in this new series will focus on two infographics concerning water temperature and the release of Atlantic salmon: Matane River – ZEC Salmon vs. Nova Scotia Salmon Association Both publications use a green, yellow and red scale, but they do not convey the same message. In Matane, conditions are presented as favorable up to 20°C , caution is recommended between 20 and 22°C , then salmon is considered at risk from 22°C . In Nova Scotia, caution begins at 18.3°C and the red zone begins above 20°C . This difference of only two degrees may seem small, but for a salmon exhausted by a fight, it can represent a significant difference in its ability to recover and in its risk of mortality after being released back into the water. The analysis will therefore compare the two messages with available studies in order to determine which best represents the actual progression of thermal risk. Why this series? In the world of salmon, a beautiful image or a simple message can quickly become a benchmark. But oversimplifying a complex subject can also create a false sense of security. A salmon doesn't suddenly become vulnerable when the thermometer reaches exactly 22°C. The risk increases gradually. It depends on the temperature, the current, the duration of the fight, the injury, exposure to air, the fish's condition, and several other factors. The Analysis Series will therefore be based on the principle of not only asking: Is it legal to fish? She will also ask: Is it really responsible to fish in these conditions? Because before the first cast, we need to understand what our decisions can mean for the salmon. Before the first cast — Analysis Series: Understanding the data. Comparing the messages. Protecting the salmon. Click to download the analyses Matane vs. Nova Scotia Matane Analysis Nova Scotia Analysis

Striped bass management plan 2026: protecting one species should not weaken others Atlantic salmon and anadromous brook trout must become genuine decision criteria Quebec has just published its 2026 Striped Bass Management Plan. This is a serious document, structured around six orientations, fourteen objectives, and forty-three actions. The plan recognizes the need to monitor striped bass populations, protect their habitats, regulate their harvesting, and better understand their place in the St. Lawrence ecosystems. [1] That's progress. But when we analyze this plan from the point of view of Atlantic salmon and anadromous brook trout, a major weakness appears: the document remains primarily designed to manage, protect and enhance striped bass . Salmonids are being observed around the plan. They are not yet at the center of its decisions. Atlantic salmon has a specific objective to assess its interactions with striped bass. Anadromous brook trout, however, is not even directly named in the objectives. It is indirectly included in a general category grouping "species that interact with striped bass". [2] For an emblematic and already fragile species like salmon, and for an ecotype as particular and as poorly documented as the anadromous char, this is not enough. A good plan for managing sea bass, but not yet a plan for protecting salmonids. The government's decision-making framework is based primarily on two criteria: the abundance of the striped bass population; its demographic trend, i.e. a stable, growing or decreasing population. The plan then calls for adapting management practices based on these two indicators. In 2025, the breeding population in the southern Gulf of St. Lawrence was estimated at approximately 547,300 individuals. It officially remains in the caution zone, with a trend considered stable. [1] This information is essential to prevent further overexploitation of striped bass. But a fundamental question is missing from the decision-making framework: What risk does this predator population pose to local populations of Atlantic salmon and anadromous brook trout? A population of sea bass can be abundant enough to support some exploitation, while producing locally significant mortality on a small population of salmonids. The two realities are not contradictory. Striped bass can be protected from overexploitation, while also intervening in a migratory passage, a river mouth or a section of fresh water where a few concentrated predators cause disproportionate mortality. This is why the status of salmonids must become a third mandatory criterion in any decision affecting access, catch limits and exploitation areas for striped bass. Table 1 — What the plan includes and what needs to be added Stake What the plan entails What needs to be added Decision-making framework Abundance and trend of striped bass A mandatory risk criterion for salmonids Atlantic salmon Studying interactions and predation Intervention thresholds, timelines, and priority rivers Anadromous Arctic char Placed among the other species that can interact with the bar Name it explicitly and dedicate a separate program to it North Shore Recognized as a less studied sector A permanent network of sentinel rivers Local Predation Results are often summarized at the provincial level. Analyses by river, habitat and migratory window Climate change General integration into bar management Track the temporal and geographical shift of the overlap with salmonids Accountability Possible publication of results and financial statements Budget, responsibilities, timelines, indicators and annual targets Cumulative effect Pressures generally studied separately A Running the Gauntlet type approach The action plan itself acknowledges that the North Shore is among the less studied areas that need to be prioritized. It also plans to characterize the use of salmon rivers by European bass in different salmonid regions and to assess predation on juvenile salmon. [2] The intention is therefore present. What is missing is the transition from intention to obligation: which rivers will be studied, from which year, for how long, with what budget, according to which method and based on what result will an intervention be triggered? The irony of the Ouelle River The case of the Ouelle River perfectly illustrates why one must be extremely cautious before generalizing a local result. The Ouelle River is the only Quebec river where telemetry monitoring has demonstrated a sustained presence of striped bass at its mouth in the spring, during a period favorable to salmon smolt migration. In the spring of 2018, the stomach contents of 184 striped bass were analyzed there. No smolts were identified. This result deserves consideration. But the same report explicitly acknowledges that the low abundance of Atlantic salmon in the Ouelle River could explain the absence of smolts in the stomachs of striped bass . Despite this major caveat, the document then uses this finding to conclude that there is a low risk of striped bass predation on smolts throughout Quebec. [3] That's the whole irony. Predation is studied in a river with relatively little salmonid habitat and low salmon abundance. No salmon fry are found in the stomachs of the fish. This result is then used to reassure the public about much larger and completely different rivers. It's like counting wolves in a parking lot, not finding any, and then concluding there aren't any in the forest. The problem isn't that the Ouelle River was studied. All data is useful. The problem is turning a lack of detection, obtained in a context of low prey abundance, into a general conclusion applicable to all rivers in Quebec. The absence of salmon smolts in a sample doesn't prove a universal absence of predation. It only proves that no smolts were identified in that specific sample, at that specific location, and during that specific time period. The North Shore is not the Ouelle River Comparing salmon farming production units shows how different the systems are. The Ouelle River contains approximately 673,476 habitat production units. For comparison, the recorded values include: 2.14 million for Godbout; 2.22 million for Aux Rochers; 4.02 million for the Saint-Jean de la Côte-Nord; 9.04 million for Moisie; over 16 million for Natashquan. [3] These production units do not represent the actual number of salmon smolts produced or migrating downstream each year. They correspond to an area of accessible habitat weighted according to its quality for the parr stage. They nevertheless demonstrate one essential point: the rivers being compared do not have the same habitat capacity or the same ecological scale . Figure 1 — Comparison of the Ouelle River and several North Shore rivers Download the high-resolution graph The North Shore also experiences later downstream migrations as one moves eastward. Salmon smolts leave the rivers when flow, temperature, and physiological development conditions become favorable. Therefore, the risk depends less on a provincial average than on the answer to three questions: Is the bar present? Are salmon smolts or migrating char present at the same time? Are both species concentrated in the same corridor? When all three answers are yes, the risk warrants intensive study, regardless of what an average calculated from dozens of different areas demonstrates. When the provincial average masks the local risk The Quebec results are often presented in the following form: since 2014, more than 1,200 stomach contents of striped bass have been analyzed and salmonids, all stages combined, represented less than 1% of the total volume of prey. This statistic is relevant. But it can also be misleading when used alone. It mixes bass caught in different regions, different seasons, and different habitats. Many of these fish probably had no real chance of encountering a salmon or char. When we focus instead on bass that have entered the freshwater portions of salmon rivers, the picture changes considerably. Of 87 bass analyzed in five rivers, 71% had been feeding and 23% contained parr or salmonids that could not be precisely identified. Bass had also been observed in the freshwater portion of 22 rivers in 2017. [3] Predation is therefore not imaginary. It is documented. The real uncertainty concerns its intensity, its distribution, and its demographic consequences on each population. A provincial average of less than 1% can coexist with a local outbreak where nearly a quarter of the sampled bass consumed a juvenile salmonid. This is not a statistical contradiction. This demonstrates the importance of the scale of analysis. For a large salmon population, additional mortality can sometimes be absorbed. For a river that receives only a few dozen large salmon, or whose egg deposition is already deficient, each additional loss takes on a completely different significance. The anadromous brook trout: the great forgotten one The problem becomes even more evident when examining the situation of the anadromous brook trout. The 2020-2028 Brook Trout Management Plan acknowledges that anadromous populations were not included in the overall plan because their ecology is very different from that of resident populations. It also acknowledges that information remains fragmented and that monitoring tools are not standardized at the provincial level. [4] In other words, the anadromous char is different enough to be excluded from the general plan, but it still does not benefit from a permanent framework comparable to that of salmon or striped bass. Meanwhile, he continues to be exposed to several pressures: recreational use; food fishing; commercial fishing in certain areas of the North Shore; accidental captures; habitat degradation and fragmentation; water heating; loss of thermal shelters; Predation in rivers, estuaries and coastal environments. The government report on commercial fishing acknowledges that several brook trout populations have declined in recent decades and that knowledge of the status of anadromous stocks remains fragmented. It also specifies that harvesting at sea removes migratory individuals that will no longer be able to return to contribute to reproduction in freshwater. [5] The anadromous char uses precisely the habitats where the risk of interaction with striped bass can become significant: river mouths, estuaries, shallow coastal areas, migratory corridors, and the lower reaches of rivers. Unlike salmon smolts, which leave the river for a long oceanic migration, the anadromous char can undertake seasonal coastal migrations and return to freshwater after a few months. It is therefore likely to pass through certain areas of predator concentration several times. However, the striped bass map doesn't explicitly name it. This is an oversight that needs to be addressed. Running the Gauntlet : the problem may not be a single threat Public debate often seeks a single culprit. The striped bar. Seals. Climate change. Fishing. Aquaculture. Habitat loss. The low availability of prey at sea. But the salmon smolt never encounters a single threat. When it leaves its river, it begins a real ordeal. It must cross a river mouth where fish-eating birds, seals, and predatory fish may congregate. It must physiologically adapt to salt water. It must quickly find enough food, while the small prey it depends on are themselves sought after by several species. Then come changes in the marine environment, food competition, diseases, parasites, warming, shifts in food webs and the thousands of kilometers to travel. If it survives and returns as an adult, it still has to overcome fishing, coastal predators, low flows, warm water episodes and obstacles in its river. This is the principle developed in Running the Gauntlet . This hypothesis does not claim that striped bass alone explains the decline of salmon. Rather, it suggests that we may be underestimating the cumulative effect of all the successive pressures exerted on the same fish . [6] Striped bass don't need to be responsible for 50% of fish mortality to become biologically significant. It only needs to add a few percentage points of mortality to a population that has already lost its safety margin due to all the other pressures. Mortality considered low in isolation can become decisive when added to ten other mortalities also considered low or moderate. This logic also applies to the anadromous brook trout. What Quebec should do now This is not about launching a war on striped bass. The southern Gulf population remains within the precautionary zone, and the striped bass itself is vulnerable to overfishing. A blanket, widespread reduction would be difficult to defend scientifically. [1] The effective solution is targeted, measurable management adapted to each river. 1. Add a third criterion to the decision-making framework Any changes to striped bass fishing regulations should assess: the state of the bar population; its demographic trend; the risk to local salmonid populations . An increase in catches should not be permitted in an area where a salmon or char population is declining and where significant migratory overlap is documented. 2. Create a network of sentinel rivers on the North Shore The network should cover, at a minimum, rivers representative of different sizes and regions: Godbout, Trinité, Aux Rochers, Moisie, Sheldrake, Saint-Jean, Mingan and Natashquan. Each station should follow simultaneously: the downstream migration of the salmon smolts; the movements of the anadromous char; the presence and abundance of the bar; freshwater incursions; the temperature; the flow rate; salinity; the other predators. 3. Study the true migration window Studies should not begin on a fixed date decided several months in advance. They must begin before the first downstream migration and continue until the last salmon have passed. The window of opportunity must be determined by the actual conditions of each river. Studying a few days outside the peak of migration can produce a completely different conclusion than that obtained during the critical week. 4. Combine several methods Visual analysis of stomachs is not always sufficient. Partially digested prey can become impossible to identify. We need to combine: acoustic telemetry; transmitters capable of signaling predation; genetic metabarcoding; Environmental DNA; cameras and sonar; stomach contents; monitoring of adult migrations and returns. 5. Establish intervention thresholds When bass enter a migratory pass, a thermal refuge, or a freshwater area where young salmonids are concentrated, an authorized team should be able to intervene quickly. Interventions could include: targeted withdrawal; movement or scaring; temporary closure of a sector; intensified sampling; enhanced protection of the local salmonid population. 6. Officially name the anadromous char The anadromous brook trout should no longer be hidden in a general category of "other species". He must benefit from: of a specific objective in the striped bar plan; of a new provincial action plan; population indicators; of a monitoring network; conservation thresholds; a complete reassessment of all its sources of mortality. 7. Measure the cumulative effect Management must stop examining each threat in a separate box. A modern study should follow cohorts of salmon smolts and char through several stages of their migration to determine how predation, temperature, flow, feeding, catches, and habitats interact. Only in this way can the Running the Gauntlet hypothesis be scientifically confirmed, corrected, or rejected. Conclusion — The absence of evidence should no longer be considered evidence of absence The 2026 Striped Bass Management Plan is a useful starting point. It recognizes the importance of better understanding interactions with salmon. It identifies the North Shore as an understudied region. It plans to continue research and publish the results. But it is still too focused on promoting striped bass and not enough on the mandatory protection of salmonids that share the same habitats. The use of the Ouelle River to produce a reassuring conclusion on a Quebec scale demonstrates exactly why we need to change our approach. The report acknowledges that the low abundance of salmon in this river could explain the absence of smolts in the stomachs of the fish. Despite this, the findings were generalized to rivers with vastly different habitat areas, downstream migration patterns, and ecological realities. This is not proof that striped bass threaten all rivers. But it certainly is not proof that they pose no significant problem on the North Shore either. The honest answer is that we don't know enough yet. And when we don't know, scientific prudence doesn't mean choosing the most reassuring hypothesis. It means studying the phenomenon where the risk is greatest: in rivers with significant downstream migration, during the true emergence of salmon smolts, in areas where bass are present in large numbers, and in passages where fish are concentrated. Atlantic salmon and anadromous brook trout no longer have enough leeway for a lack of knowledge to serve as a justification for inaction. Protecting the striped bass is legitimate. But a truly ecosystem-based management must also guarantee that this protection and its enhancement will never be at the expense of the most vulnerable salmonids. The real challenge is not choosing between sea bass, salmon, and Arctic char. The real challenge is to develop a management system capable of considering them all together, in the right place, at the right time, and on the right scale. Sources [1] Government of Quebec. Quebec Striped Bass Management Plan 2026 — Summary Document . Population status, six orientations, fourteen objectives, forty-three actions and decision-making framework. ( CDN Content Quebec ) [2] Government of Quebec. Orientations, objectives and actions of the 2026 Striped Bass Management Plan . Actions concerning the North Shore, Atlantic salmon, species interacting with striped bass and climate change. ( CDN Content Quebec ) [3] Fisheries and Oceans Canada. Information on Atlantic salmon in Quebec . Results of stomach contents, case of the Ouelle River, incursions into freshwater and river production units. ( Publications Canada ) [4] Government of Quebec. Brook Trout Management Plan for Quebec 2020-2028 . Exclusion of anadromous populations due to their distinct ecology and monitoring gaps. ( CDN Content Quebec ) [5] Government of Quebec. Characterization of commercial landings of anadromous brook trout on the North Shore . State of knowledge, exploitation, pressures and effects on freshwater populations. ( CDN Content Quebec ) [6] Jocelyn LeBlanc. Running the Gauntlet . Hypothesis concerning the cumulative effect of pressures encountered by the smolt during its migration. ( Feather Shed )

13,620 Licences, 49,458 Fishing Days, and 13,133 Salmon Counted: Where Is the Limit? Editorial on Salmon Fishing Pressure in Quebec in 2025 The 2025 Atlantic salmon report for Quebec calls for a discussion that goes far beyond the simple question of fishing success. It forces us to ask whether the way we use, manage, and promote salmon rivers is still appropriate given the current condition of the resource. For the 2025–2026 season, 13,620 salmon fishing licences were sold in Quebec: 11,486 to residents and 2,134 to non-residents. These sales include annual licences, three-day licences, and mandatory catch-and-release licences. The figures are identified as preliminary. [1] During the 2025 fishing season, river use amounted to 49,458 fishing days. At the same time, 13,133 adult salmon were observed migrating upstream in the 34 rivers where counts were conducted. [2] These figures cannot be compared as though they represent exactly the same people, fish, and rivers. Even so, placing them side by side raises a legitimate question: How much pressure can a declining salmon population still withstand? Main Results for 2025 Indicator Result Clarification Salmon fishing licences sold 13,620 Number of licences, not necessarily unique anglers Licences sold to residents 11,486 Includes all salmon licence categories Licences sold to non-residents 2,134 Includes all salmon licence categories Fishing activity 49,458 fishing days Full or partial days spent fishing Adult salmon observed 13,133 Counted in 34 rivers Reported catches 10,918 Fish retained and released Reported releases 10,016 A minimum because reporting is not mandatory Salmon retained 902 680 small salmon and 222 large salmon Proportion released 92% Share of reported catches Decline in total returns 45% Compared with the previous five-year average Decline in multi-sea-winter salmon 68% Salmon that spent more than one winter at sea Increase in grilse 10% Salmon that spent one winter at sea A Contrast That Is Difficult to Ignore At first glance, the contrast is striking: 13,620 licences sold versus 13,133 salmon counted. However, it would be incorrect to claim that there were more anglers than salmon across Quebec as a whole. First, one licence does not necessarily represent one different person. Some licences can be combined, and one individual may purchase more than one licence during a season. [3] Second, the 13,133 salmon were counted in only 34 rivers, while Quebec has 114 waterways officially designated as salmon rivers. The count therefore does not represent every salmon that returned to the province. [2] Third, the 10,918 reported catches do not necessarily represent 10,918 different fish. The same salmon may be caught, released, and caught again. These clarifications prevent an overly simplistic comparison. They do not, however, eliminate the underlying concern: substantial fishing pressure is still being placed on the rivers at a time when salmon returns are falling sharply. Nearly 50,000 Days of Presence on the Rivers The number of licences provides an indication of the popularity of salmon fishing. The number of fishing days gives a better picture of the pressure being exerted on the rivers. In 2025, 49,458 fishing days were recorded. That represents about 3.6 fishing days per licence sold, although this average does not account for people holding multiple licences or those who purchased a licence but did not use it. Of course, not every fishing day results in a catch. Many anglers finish the season without catching a single salmon. Even so, nearly 50,000 fishing days represent thousands of hours spent casting flies into pools where salmon rest before spawning. Across the province, that pressure may appear widely distributed. On a smaller river where only a few dozen or a few hundred salmon return, it can become significant. Catch-and-Release Does Not Eliminate All Impacts Catch-and-release is an important conservation measure. In 2025, 10,016 of the 10,918 reported catches were released, representing 92% of all reported catches. Only 902 salmon were retained. [2] A salmon released properly can continue its migration and reach the spawning grounds. However, catch-and-release is never completely without consequence. Since 2015, the ministry has applied an estimated 7% mortality rate to released salmon in its management calculations. This is intended to avoid overestimating the number of spawning fish remaining in the rivers. [2] Applied theoretically to the 10,016 reported releases in 2025, that rate would represent approximately: 701 potential deaths. This does not mean that 701 dead fish were found. It is a theoretical estimate based on the mortality rate used by the ministry. Other effects may also occur, including exhaustion from the fight, injuries, handling, time spent out of the water, repeated captures, and the additional stress caused by warm water. The report also states that reporting released fish is not mandatory. The figure of 10,016 therefore represents a minimum. [2] The Decline of Large Salmon The 68% decline in multi-sea-winter salmon is probably the most alarming result in the 2025 report. Multi-sea-winter salmon have spent more than one winter at sea. They are generally larger and include a higher proportion of females than grilse. Their contribution to reproduction is therefore especially important. [2] A decline in large salmon does not simply mean fewer prized fish for anglers. It may also mean fewer eggs deposited and a reduced ability for populations to renew themselves. When large females become rare, every fish that reaches the spawning grounds becomes even more biologically valuable. The question should therefore not be limited to whether a large salmon can survive after being caught. We must also ask whether some populations should be disturbed less in the first place. A Contradiction in Our Approach Salmon fishing has genuine cultural, social, and economic value. It supports guides, outfitters, river managers, businesses, and many regional communities. Anglers are also often among the strongest defenders of salmon rivers and salmon habitat. It would therefore be unfair to present anglers as the sole cause of the decline. Salmon face many pressures: climate change, warming water, low flows, marine conditions, habitat loss, predation, and other human activities. Sport fishing is not the only cause of declining salmon populations. It is, however, one of the pressures Quebec can regulate directly and immediately. While salmon returns are falling, organizations continue to offer mentorship programs, workshops, and promotional activities designed to attract new anglers. Training new participants is not inherently wrong. A well-trained angler can become a stronger advocate for salmon and adopt better handling practices. But one contradiction remains: Can we continue recruiting more and more anglers without first determining how much pressure the rivers can truly withstand? We cannot describe the state of salmon as alarming while continuing to expand participation as though the resource were still abundant. Managing Fishing Effort, Not Only Harvest For many years, salmon management focused mainly on how many fish could be retained. As populations declined, catch-and-release became the main solution. But replacing harvest with release does not necessarily solve the entire problem if the number of captures and the overall fishing pressure remain high. A broader strategy could include: seasonal limits on the number of releases per angler; limits on the number of fishing days allowed on vulnerable rivers; automatic closures when water temperatures reach critical levels; refuge pools or river sections where fishing is prohibited; reduced promotion of rivers with critically low populations; management adapted to each individual population; mandatory reporting of catches and releases; a better system for counting unique anglers. The goal would not necessarily be to end salmon fishing. It would be to ensure that fishing practices evolve in step with the condition of the resource. Changing How We Define Success The success of a fishing season should no longer be measured only by the number of catches, the catch rate, or angler satisfaction. A successful season should also be one in which: more salmon reach the spawning grounds; large females are protected; repeated captures are reduced; temperature-related closures happen quickly; weakened populations begin to recover. The best fishing season may no longer be the one in which the greatest number of salmon are caught. It may be the one in which the greatest number of salmon are left undisturbed. Conclusion The 2025 figures do not allow us to claim directly that there is one angler for every salmon. Licences do not necessarily represent unique individuals, the salmon count covers only 34 rivers, and the same salmon may be caught more than once. But the contrast remains troubling: 13,620 licences sold; 49,458 fishing days; 10,918 reported catches; 13,133 salmon counted in monitored rivers; a 45% decline in total returns; a 68% decline in multi-sea-winter salmon. The question is no longer simply: How many salmon can we still catch? It should now become: How many salmon must we leave completely undisturbed to secure their future? And above all: With so few salmon, is there still room for ever more anglers? Sources [1] Government of Quebec — Fishing Licence Sales.Preliminary 2025–2026 figures for annual, three-day, and mandatory catch-and-release salmon licences, broken down between residents and non-residents. [2] Quebec Ministry of the Environment, the Fight Against Climate Change, Wildlife and Parks.Salmon Harvest in Quebec — 2025 Report. Data on salmon returns, catches, releases, fishing days, five-year comparisons, and the mortality rate applied to released fish. [3] Government of Quebec — Obtaining a Sport Fishing Licence.Description of licence categories, resident and non-resident rules, and conditions governing the use and combination of licences.

Subsistence fishing, recreational fishing, and Atlantic salmon: we must have the courage to talk about it Talking about subsistence fishing, recreational fishing, and Aboriginal rights in Canada is not simple. It's a sensitive subject. There's history involved. There are rights, traditions, wounds, and social and cultural realities that cannot be dismissed out of hand. But there is also another reality that we can no longer avoid: Atlantic salmon are disappearing from several of our rivers. And when a species declines like this, silence protects no one. It doesn't protect the fishers. It doesn't protect the communities. And most importantly, it doesn't protect the salmon. We can respect ancestral and treaty rights without turning a blind eye to the state of the resource. We can respect Indigenous communities without refusing to discuss harvesting. We can also ask recreational fishing to make an effort without pretending it's solely responsible for the problem. Conservation begins when we are able to look at everything head-on. Atlantic salmon populations are not declining due to a single factor. There is the ocean, climate change, warm water, damaged habitats, predators, lack of forage fish, dams, bycatch, and direct harvesting. But precisely because the salmon are being attacked from all sides, each death becomes more significant. When there are many salmon, a river can withstand a certain amount of pressure. But when returns are low, every salmon removed from the river counts. A dead salmon doesn't spawn. A female that doesn't return to the gravel won't lay her eggs. It's as simple as that. Recent scientific data shows that the situation is serious. The ICES/WGNAS 2026 report indicates that returns of virgin 2SW salmon to North America—that is, large salmon returning after two winters at sea—were in 2025 the lowest in the 56-year historical record. This is not a minor alert. It is a major signal. [1] Meanwhile, we often continue to talk about Greenland as if the major pressure comes primarily from outside. Yes, Greenland needs to be part of the discussion. Yes, this fishery has an impact. But if we want to be honest, we also need to look at what's happening here in Canada. In 2025, data submitted to NASCO indicated that the retained catch in Canada was 81.1 tonnes , while Saint-Pierre-et-Miquelon was at 1.5 tonnes . For Greenland, ICES indicated that the total reported catch in 2025 was 29.9 tonnes , with 28.9 tonnes in western Greenland and 1.0 tonne in the east . [2][3] When data from 2014 to 2025 are combined from ICES/WGNAS reports, NASCO statistics, and government records, the picture is clear. The Indigenous/FSC harvest in Canada represents approximately 719.9 tonnes . The conserved recreational fishery in Canada represents approximately 602.0 tonnes . The reported harvest in Greenland represents approximately 370.9 tonnes . Therefore, from 2014 to 2025, the combined Indigenous/FSC and recreational harvest conserved in Canada represents approximately 1,321.9 tonnes . This is about 3.56 times the declared harvest from Greenland over the same period. This isn't meant to point fingers. It's not meant to blame any group. It's meant because the numbers speak for themselves. And if we truly want to protect salmon, we must be able to listen to what the numbers say. Even in 2025, a year in which the conserved recreational fishery declined significantly, the picture remains striking. The data used indicates 51.8 tonnes for the Indigenous/FSC harvest in Canada, 28.1 tonnes for the conserved recreational fishery in Canada, and 29.9 tonnes for the Greenland harvest. Together, the indigenous/FSC harvest and the conserved recreational fishery in Canada therefore represent 79.9 tonnes in 2025. This is about 2.67 times the declared harvest of Greenland that same year. In Quebec, the situation is even harder to accept. Historical data from the Quebec fishery shows that the total catch reached 51,299 salmon in 1988. By 2025, it had plummeted to 4,617 salmon . That's a drop of approximately 91% . You can look at it any way you want, but a 91% decrease is not a small change. It's not just a bad year. It's a wake-up call. Commercial salmon fishing has been eliminated in Quebec for several decades. Recreational fishing has been restricted. Catch and release has become much more common. Regulations have tightened in many rivers. Yet, salmon populations continue to decline. In 2025, in Quebec, the conserved sport fishery represents 902 salmon . Meanwhile, the ARS/FSC harvest represents 3,715 salmon . This means that the ARS/FSC harvest represents approximately 4.1 times the conserved sport fishery harvest in Quebec in 2025. [4] Again, we mustn't conflate everything. Subsistence fishing and recreational fishing are not the same thing culturally, socially, or legally. The realities are not the same. The rights are not the same. But biologically, the result is the same: a salmon that is caught will not spawn. This is where Aboriginal rights and the Marshall II decision become important. Indigenous and treaty rights are protected by section 35 of the Canadian Constitution. These rights are real. They are important. They must be respected. Fishing for food, social, and ceremonial purposes, often referred to as FSC or ARS, is a protected collective right. DFO clarifies that this is not an individual right, and that fish caught in this context serve the food, social, or ceremonial needs of the community. DFO also indicates that this fishery does not provide an opportunity to sell the catch. [5] In Quebec, the DFO also reiterates a very important point: the right to fish for food, social, and ceremonial purposes takes precedence over other users of the resource after conservation . This is the heart of the debate. After conservation. Not before. [6] The Marshall I decision in 1999 recognized a right under the 1760-1761 Peace and Friendship Treaties for certain First Nations, including the Mi'kmaq, Wolastoqey/Maliseet, and Peskotomuhkatiyik, to fish, hunt, and gather for a moderate livelihood . [7] But Marshall II clarified something very important: this right is not without limits. The Supreme Court of Canada confirmed that Aboriginal and treaty rights can be regulated if such regulation is justified, particularly for conservation reasons. [8] This is a crucial point. Marshall II doesn't say that rights disappear. It doesn't deny the existence of rights. It doesn't say that these rights aren't important. Rather, it says that a right can be limited when conservation requires it. And in the case of Atlantic salmon, that's precisely the question that needs to be asked. At what point do we stop talking only about rights, traditions, leisure activities or habits, and start talking first about the survival of the salmon? The same principle is found in the Sparrow ruling. This decision is fundamental because it recognizes ancestral rights, but also confirms that the State can regulate fishing when there is a justification, and that conservation is at the heart of this analysis. [9] So the logic is simple: before sharing the salmon, we must first ensure that there are enough salmon left for the species to continue. That's where the real question comes in: where does the salmon fit into all of this? Is salmon simply a resource to be shared? Is it simply a right to be exercised? Is it just a hobby? Is it just a tradition? Or is it first and foremost a living species that must survive? Because without salmon, there's nothing left to share. Without salmon, there is no more subsistence fishing. Without salmon, there is no more recreational fishing. Without salmon, there is no longer a living tradition. Without salmon, only memories and theoretical rights to a vanished resource remain. There is no magic clause that guarantees the survival of salmon. No judgment, no law, no treaty can biologically guarantee that a species will survive if runs collapse, if the water warms, if habitats degrade, and if harvests exceed what the river can support. What does exist, however, is a basic principle: conservation must come before allocation . Before deciding who can take salmon, we must first decide how many salmon should remain in the river to spawn. Before discussing sharing, we must discuss survival. Before discussing rights, we must discuss conservation thresholds. This is why conservation cannot be selective. We cannot ask recreational fishing to reduce its catches, accept mandatory catch and release, close areas, respect warm water protocols and endure all the social pressure, while refusing to look at other harvests with the same seriousness. But we also cannot pretend that ancestral rights are a mere pastime. They are not. The problem is when we refuse to have a real discussion. Talking about FSC or ARS samples is not being against Indigenous people. Talking about recreational fishing is not the same as being against sport fishermen. Talking about Greenland is not about looking for a scapegoat. Talking about all the harvests is simply accepting that the salmon, for its part, does not engage in politics. The salmon doesn't know if the death comes from subsistence fishing, recreational fishing, fishing in Greenland, accidental capture, or mismanagement. Dead, it doesn't spawn. The current pace is frantic. Rivers are being closed. Quotas are being reduced. We wait for the results. We discuss poor runs. We hope the ocean will fare better next year. We talk about caution, consultation, jurisdiction, and complexity. Meanwhile, salmon numbers continue to decline. If we don't stop this pace, some rivers will become salmon rivers in name only. Poor runs will become the new normal. Temporary closures will become permanent. Young anglers will never experience what previous generations did. Communities will lose part of their identity. And the rights themselves will become increasingly difficult to exercise, not because they will have been denied, but because the salmon will no longer be there. That's the real danger. A right without resources becomes an empty symbol. That's why Marshall 2 should remind us of a simple thing: recognizing a right doesn't mean ignoring resource limits. Regulating harvesting to protect a declining species isn't an attack on a right. It's sometimes the only way to preserve the possibility of exercising that right in the future. Canada must therefore have the courage to build a clear, fair and transparent framework. The data must be public. The samples must be known. Mortalities must be counted. Conservation thresholds must be respected. Closures must be implemented when a river can no longer sustain losses. And all groups must be called upon to do their part when the state of the salmon demands it. We must also stop managing salmon as if each issue were separate. Greenland, Indigenous fisheries, recreational fishing, bycatch, marine conditions, predators, thermal refuges, habitats, and water temperatures are all part of the same problem. But direct levies are among the few things that can be controlled quickly. We won't be able to control the ocean tomorrow morning. You can't cool a river down by snapping your fingers. But we can decide how many salmon we let migrate upstream, spawn, and produce the next generation. The question is not which group should bear the blame. The question is whether we are capable of acting before it is too late. Respecting ancestral and treaty rights, yes. Respecting the importance of recreational fishing, yes. Recognizing the cultural value of salmon for several communities, yes. But above all else, there is a simple truth: the salmon must first survive . Because a river without salmon becomes a memory. Because a right without resources becomes an empty symbol. Because conservation that chooses its blind spots is not true conservation. Speaking frankly about subsistence fishing, recreational fishing, Marshall 2, and the decline of salmon is not divisive. It is refusing to continue managing disappearance with half-truths. It means accepting that respect for rights and the survival of the species must be considered together. And this may be the first step towards changing things before Atlantic salmon also becomes a story told in the past tense. Sources and references [1] ICES — Working Group on North Atlantic Salmon, WGNAS 2026 Report. Main scientific report on the status of North Atlantic salmon stocks. The summary indicates that returns of virgin 2SW salmon to North America in 2025 were the lowest in the 56-year historical series. ( ICES Library ) [2] NASCO — CNL(26)43, Presentation of ICES Advice on North Atlantic Salmon Stocks to Council, 2026. Presentation used for the 2025 retained catch data for North America, including Canada 81.1 t and Saint-Pierre-et-Miquelon 1.5 t . ( NASCO ) [3] ICES — Atlantic salmon in the West Greenland Commission Area, 2026. Source used for the reported Greenland catch in 2025: 28.9 t west of Greenland and 1.0 t east, for a reported total of 29.9 t . ( ICES Library ) [4] Government of Quebec / MELCCFP — Atlantic Salmon Management Plan and Salmon Harvesting Report for Quebec, 2025 Season. Official source used for 2025 Quebec data: sport catches retained, catches released, fishing days, ARS/FSC harvest, total catches, and annual history. The Government of Quebec website refers to the 2025 report and indicates that salmon fishing is regulated according to the specific realities of each river and the salmon situation in the North Atlantic. ( Government of Quebec ) [5] DFO — Food, social and ceremonial fisheries. DFO indicates that the right to fish for food, social and ceremonial purposes is protected by section 35 of the Constitution, that it is a collective right, and that FSC fishing does not provide an opportunity to sell the catch. ( Fisheries and Oceans Canada ) [6] DFO — Indigenous Fisheries in Quebec. DFO specifies that fish caught for food, social, and ceremonial purposes cannot be sold, bartered, or exchanged, and that this right takes precedence, after conservation , over other users of the resource. ( Fisheries and Oceans Canada ) [7] Supreme Court of Canada — R. v. Marshall, 1999. Decision recognizing the right under peace and friendship treaties to fish, hunt and gather for the necessities of a reasonable subsistence. ( SCC Decisions ) [8] Supreme Court of Canada — R. v. Marshall 2, 1999. Decision clarifying that Aboriginal and treaty rights can be subject to justified regulation, including for conservation purposes. ( SCC Decisions ) [9] Supreme Court of Canada — R. v. Sparrow, 1990. Landmark decision on Aboriginal rights protected by section 35 and on the framework for justification, including the central role of conservation in the analysis. ( SCC Decisions ) Methodological note. The cumulative totals and ratios used in this editorial were calculated from official data from ICES/WGNAS, NASCO, DFO, and the Government of Quebec. The working tables serve only to group, harmonize, and compare the data. The original sources remain the official reports and documents cited above. Cautionary note. This text is a citizen conservation and analysis editorial. It does not constitute legal advice. Any official publication directly affecting Aboriginal rights, treaty rights, or the application of Marshall II should be reviewed by someone knowledgeable in Indigenous and fisheries law.

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. https://ici.radio-canada.ca/nouvelle/2093710/remise-eau-obligatoire-saumons 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 https://ici.radio-canada.ca/nouvelle/2256401/saumon-eau-chaude-interdiction-peche 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?

The Atlantic salmon's arduous journey When we talk about the decline of Atlantic salmon, one question constantly comes up: what is responsible? For years, we've been searching for a simple answer to a problem that is anything but simple. One year, we talk about climate change. The next, striped bass. Then come seals, aquaculture, disease, food shortages, bycatch, or even heat waves in rivers. Each new study adds another piece to the puzzle. Yet, I sometimes get the feeling that we look at each of these pieces separately, without ever taking the time to see the whole picture. It was this reflection that led me to develop a hypothesis that I call Running the Gauntlet . I don't claim to have found the answer to the salmon decline. What I'm proposing is simply another way to observe its journey. A hypothesis that, in my opinion, deserves to be studied. When a salmon smolt leaves its river in the spring, it's not just beginning a migration. It's embarking on what is likely the most dangerous journey of its life. Its instinct drives it out to sea, towards the feeding grounds of Greenland, where it will spend one or two winters before returning to spawn in its native river. Between these two destinations lie thousands of kilometers... and an almost uninterrupted succession of dangers. While observing the downstream migration dates of salmon smolts on several Quebec rivers, one detail caught my attention. In the Saguenay River, young salmon generally leave their home river between late May and early June. On the Rivière de la Trinité, this migration occurs about a week later. The further east one travels, towards the Upper North Shore, the Minganie region, and the Lower North Shore, the later the downstream migration becomes, sometimes extending into early July. This progression is logical: the colder waters delay the development of the smolts. But while looking at this map, another observation came to me. While the salmon smolts gradually migrate eastward, the striped bass also appears to be progressively moving up the St. Lawrence River and the North Shore. Today, it is well established in the Saguenay Fjord and its presence is increasingly common at the mouths of many North Shore rivers. I want to be extremely cautious: I'm not claiming that striped bass follow salmon smolts. I have no scientific evidence to support such a claim. But when two phenomena appear to occur in the same corridor and at overlapping times, it seems legitimate to wonder whether this synchronization could have an impact on the survival of young salmon. This is where, in my opinion, the discussion becomes interesting. The real issue isn't the striped bass. The real issue is the buildup of pressure. The salmon smolt never encounters a single obstacle. It must cross estuaries teeming with predators. It must avoid seals, fish-eating birds, large fish, and possibly large concentrations of striped bass. It must also find enough food to continue its migration. Sand eels, capelin, herring, amphipods, and the other small prey it depends on are also sought after by numerous species. The salmon smolt, therefore, doesn't just fight to avoid being eaten; it also fights to find food. Then comes the ocean. There, too, the challenges multiply: competition for food, climate change, parasites, diseases, shifts in prey distribution, and, on some migratory routes, marine aquaculture operations. After one or two winters, when it finally begins the return journey, the ordeal starts all over again. The seals are still there. Heat waves affect some rivers. Low water levels complicate the migration. Natural and man-made obstacles add to the already accumulated stress. And perhaps that's where the heart of my hypothesis lies. We are studying seals. We are studying the striped bass. We are studying climate change. We are studying aquaculture. We study diseases. But how many studies actually look at the cumulative effect of all these pressures on a single salmon, throughout its journey? In my view, that's exactly what Running the Gauntlet is all about. The salmon doesn't face a single threat. It must survive a series of trials that begin as soon as it leaves its river and only end when it returns to spawn. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps this hypothesis will one day be completely refuted. And if so, all the better. That's precisely the role of science. But I sincerely believe this question deserves to be asked. Because by constantly searching for someone to blame, we might miss the real problem: it's not a single threat that's causing the salmon to disappear. It's perhaps the accumulation of all the others.

We formalize the bare minimum and are content with that. While the rivers are heating up, protection remains limited. The ministry's announcement regarding the temporary closure of certain rivers when the water temperature exceeds 22°C in the morning is, in my opinion, good news. For what? Because it finally officially recognizes a reality that many fishermen, biologists and managers have observed for years: when a river reaches certain temperatures, the salmon enters a zone of significant physiological stress where its recovery capacity decreases considerably. The ministry itself acknowledges that catch and release can then become problematic and that the survival of salmon can be compromised. This is an important observation, as it confirms what many have been saying for a long time: at certain temperatures, even fishing carried out with the best intentions can have significant consequences for the resource. I fully agree with this measure. But this announcement raises several important questions. Why only four rivers? Why do the Malbaie, the Rivière à Mars, the Petit-Saguenay and the Saint-Jean du Saguenay benefit from a closure protocol when several rivers on the North Shore are experiencing exactly the same realities? I'm thinking of Saint Marguerite River I'm thinking of the Godbout. I'm thinking of Pentecote. I'm thinking of the Aux Rochers River. I'm thinking of Les Escoumins. I'm thinking of Laval. I'm thinking of the Saint-Jean Côte-Nord. I'm thinking of Mingan. I'm thinking of the mighty Moisie. I am also thinking of the rivers of Anticosti and several rivers in the Gaspé Peninsula which are also experiencing significant heat waves. But I am thinking above all of the Trinité. For what? Because the Trinité River is not like any other. The Trinité is a monitoring river. For decades, the Ministry has been collecting essential data on Atlantic salmon there. Ministry employees are present throughout the season. They count the salmon, track the runs, analyze the returns, measure water temperatures, and likely possess one of the best salmon databases in Quebec. When days reach 25°C, 27°C, or even 29°C and the nights remain abnormally warm, the Ministry knows it. It doesn't learn about it after the fact. It observes it in real time. This is precisely what makes the situation difficult to understand. If a reference river like the Trinité, where the most complete data is available and where biologists are present in the field throughout the season, does not automatically trigger a reflection on the application of a thermal protocol, then what conditions must be met before taking action? In my view, the Trinité River should be one of the first rivers used to guide management decisions during extreme heat events, not one of the notable omissions in the current protocol. And if a reference river isn't used to trigger protective measures when conditions become critical, then it's legitimate to question the purpose of all the data collected over decades. The salmon of the North Shore are no different from those of the Saguenay. At 22°C, a salmon remains a salmon. Physiology does not change according to administrative boundaries. If the ministry acknowledges that thermal stress justifies a closure on certain rivers, why is this same principle not applied everywhere where the same conditions exist? The question deserves to be asked. But in my view, the debate shouldn't stop at sport fishing. If the ministry acknowledges that a salmon is stressed enough that releasing it can be fatal, then it must also recognize that any unnecessary disturbance becomes problematic. During periods of extreme heat, salmon often congregate in a few thermal refuges where the water remains cooler. These shelters then become vital zones for survival. Each forced displacement. Each leak. Every inconvenience. Every additional expenditure of energy. All of this increases the stress experienced by the fish. The problem, therefore, is not solely sport fishing. The problem is the additional stress imposed on an animal already at the limit of its physiological capacity. At certain critical times, the best salmon to release is probably the one that no one has disturbed. That is why the discussion should go beyond just sport fishing. When a river reaches critical temperatures, all activities that could disturb salmon in thermal refuges should be reassessed. If the goal is truly conservation, any disturbance must be minimized when the fish are most vulnerable. And this brings us to another topic that is far too rarely discussed: forest cover. You can't discuss heat stress without talking about trees. The trees lining rivers play a vital role in the survival of salmon. They provide shade. They limit the warming of the water. They contribute to maintaining thermal shelters. They stabilize the riverbanks. They contribute to the overall health of the ecosystem. However, over the years, some interventions have sometimes prioritized access to fishing at the expense of riparian vegetation. I'm not saying that all brush clearing is bad. Some interventions are necessary. But in a context where climate change is already increasing water temperatures, every mature tree protecting a pool is probably more valuable today than it was thirty years ago. Across North America, specialists are now talking about restoring riparian buffer strips, protecting forest cover, and creating shade corridors as climate change adaptation measures. For what? Because a river that stays cold requires fewer closures. A river that maintains its thermal refuges naturally protects its salmon. A river that retains its forest cover is better prepared to face tomorrow's heat waves. The ministry's announcement is therefore a step in the right direction. However, it seems more like treating the symptoms than a truly comprehensive strategy. Temporarily closing a river when the water reaches a critical level is a good measure. Protecting the habitats that allow this river to remain cold is just as important. In my view, three priorities should guide the coming years. First, extend thermal protocols to all rivers where conditions warrant it. Secondly, aggressively protect thermal refuges and riparian forest cover. Third, minimize any disturbance to salmon when they are already experiencing critical heat stress. The government now recognizes that heat stress can make fishing incompatible with salmon conservation. He has the data. It has the regulatory tools. He has the means to intervene. So why not apply this logic everywhere salmon live in the same conditions? Because in the end, salmon don't care about administrative borders. He is not concerned with economic interests. He does not concern himself with the debates between fishermen, managers or organizations. He's simply trying to survive. And if we truly want to listen to the salmon, we must begin by giving it peace when it is most vulnerable. Because the real victim of this crisis is neither the fisherman, nor the ZEC, nor the management bodies, nor even the FQSA, whose mandate is in particular to make recommendations to the ministry. The real victim is the salmon itself, the one that continues to pay the price for inaction. The real victim is the salmon itself. And it is the salmon that we claim to want to save.

Nestled in the heart of a wild territory and fed by the crystal-clear waters of the majestic Lake Walker, the deepest lake in Quebec, the Rivière aux Rochers is undoubtedly one of the best-kept treasures of the North Shore. Renowned for the quality of its salmon habitat and the beauty of its landscapes, the river also stands out for its exemplary resource management. For many years, its managers have been pioneers in conservation. The complete release of salmon, the constant adaptation of practices to the challenges of high temperatures, and rigorous management of the upstream fish trap to minimize stress on the fish all demonstrate a clear commitment: to protect Atlantic salmon while offering an exceptional fishing experience. Currently, water levels are high, but all indications are that conditions will be very promising once the river returns to its summer level. With a water temperature of approximately 11°C, conditions are currently excellent for salmon. One of the most appreciated aspects for anglers is undoubtedly the unique pool system. Each pool can hold up to four perch, but only one angler is fishing at a time. This approach fosters a convivial experience where friends and family members can share their day together, chat, observe the salmon, and fully enjoy every moment spent on the river. And the best is yet to come. Prime time is fast approaching. The next few weeks traditionally represent one of the best periods of the season, as conditions often become ideal and salmon continue to enter the river. Whether you are a regular visitor or wish to discover this exceptional river for the first time, now is the time to find out more. To find out about availability, get more information or even participate in the popular 48-hour draw , contact the Rivière aux Rochers team at 418-766-2777 . The Aux Rochers River: a river where quality fishing, salmon conservation and the pleasure of sharing good times with friends go hand in hand.

When the survival of the salmon still depends on us The first week of salmon fishing for the 2026 season is now behind us. Yet, once again, social media is flooded with photos of salmons completely out of the water for a few seconds of fame. What is even more concerning is that many of the most important measures to reduce the impacts on salmon survival during their upstream migration remain unclear, incomplete, or simply unofficial at the Quebec level. Yet, in a context where smolt returns are historically low and the exact causes of mortality at sea continue to be studied, every spawning adult that reaches the river represents a valuable resource. We know that the main factors responsible for the decline of Atlantic salmon are likely at sea. However, until these causes are fully understood and addressed, it makes sense to do everything possible to maximize the survival chances of the salmon that manage to return to spawn in our rivers. Every spawning fish lost today is a fish that will not participate in tomorrow's reproduction. Meanwhile, clear messages on best practices are slow to arrive. The Federation's (FQSA) only significant announcement so far concerns the crushing of barbs. Yes, you read that right. The measure that probably has the least impact on salmon survival when compared to fight duration, out-of-water handling, heat protocols, or the use of appropriate equipment has become the first major awareness campaign of the season. For its part, the Ministry of the Environment, the Fight Against Climate Change, Wildlife and Parks had the audacity to impose mandatory catch and release for all Atlantic salmon in Quebec. However, some exceptions remain on certain rivers, as if there were still a fear of treating all rivers equally. Once again, this demonstrates that, for many stakeholders, protecting a culture, tradition, or folklore seems to take precedence over protecting the salmon itself. Yet, without salmon, there will be no more salmon culture, no more tradition, and no more folklore. Only memories will remain. While the main problems lie at sea, long-term solutions must also come from the sea. But until we identify and address these causes, the very least we can do is protect as many of the salmon that still manage to return to our rivers as possible. Every spawning salmon lost today reduces the chances of recovery tomorrow. The measures that should be prioritized If the goal is truly to protect the resource, here are the measures that should be prioritized, particularly in rivers that are not reaching their egg-laying threshold, but also in those that are just barely reaching it. When a river is already not producing enough eggs to ensure optimal population renewal, caution should always prevail. 1. Complete suspension of salmon harvesting, including subsistence fisheries Every salmon that survives has the opportunity to participate in reproduction. When runs are low, a few dozen additional spawners can make a significant difference for the next generation. When several rivers are no longer reaching their spawning threshold or are barely reaching it, no harvest should be considered negligible. Protecting the resource must take precedence over all types of harvesting, whether for sport, commercial, or subsistence purposes. (Native Fishery) A declining population makes no distinction between different types of harvesting. Each salmon that escapes harvesting retains its reproductive potential and increases the river's chances of recovery. 2. Comprehensive protection of spawning and migrating salmon Large salmon often carry the majority of a river's eggs, and migrating salmon are exceptional survivors that can return to spawn a second or even a third time. Unlike a smolt that leaves the river and whose return is never guaranteed, a migrating salmon is already a confirmed survivor of mortality at sea. Each protected migrating salmon represents a real opportunity to add an extra spawner during a future run. With the recruitment of new breeders dependent on an increasingly uncertain return of smolts, the protection of migrating salmon is one of the few measures capable of offering a relatively rapid gain for the population. 3. Closure of fishing during periods of heat and severe low water levels When water reaches critical temperatures or flows become extremely low, salmon are already struggling for survival. During periods of extreme heat, salmon gather in thermal refuges, areas of cooler water that allow them to survive otherwise deadly conditions. Any disturbance then becomes problematic. Fishing, but also swimming, canoeing, kayaking, paddleboarding, repeated river crossings, or even a significant presence on the banks near these refuges can cause stress and drive salmon away. When a salmon is forced to leave a thermal refuge, even temporarily, it is often compelled to return to much warmer water. In the most critical situations, this simple disturbance can become a fatality. Above 20°C, salmon already experience significant physiological stress. Their ability to recover after a fight decreases rapidly, and the risk of mortality after release increases considerably. Every angler should carry a thermometer, just like pliers or a knotless landing net. When the water level approaches or exceeds critical thresholds, sometimes the best course of action for salmon fishing is to leave the rod in the vehicle. 4. Maximum reduction of combat time Even under favorable conditions, a prolonged fight causes extreme exhaustion, a buildup of lactic acid, and significantly increases the fish's recovery time. Using appropriate equipment, avoiding unnecessary fights and quickly bringing the fish under control are simple steps that increase its chances of survival. 5. It should be forbidden to remove salmon from the water Salmon continue to breathe underwater. Every second spent out of the water increases their stress level, compromises their recovery, and increases the risk of post-release mortality. 6. Limit handling and use of knotless landing nets The less you handle the fish, the less damage you cause to its protective mucus, fins, eyes, and scales. Using a knotless landing net significantly reduces injuries during capture and release. Conversely, nets with knots can abrade the salmon's skin, tear away some of its protective mucus, and cause potentially serious injuries. These injuries may seem minor at first glance, but they act as veritable entry points for bacteria, fungi, and various diseases. An abrasion caused by a knotted landing net can be compared to an open wound that increases the fish's vulnerability in the days or weeks following its release. 7. Reduction in the number of fishing days This measure should be particularly considered on rivers that do not reach their minimum egg-laying threshold or that struggle to reach it year after year. Reducing the number of fishing days does not solve the problem on its own, but it does reduce the pressure on an already weakened population. 8. Mandatory use of single hooks Single hooks generally cause less injury, are easier to remove, and reduce the risk of damage to gills, eyes, and vital organs. 9. Mandatory Barbless Hooks This measure facilitates unhooking and reduces certain injuries. It is beneficial and should be applied everywhere. However, its impact on salmon survival remains much more limited than that of previous measures. A responsibility that belongs to us No one claims that these measures alone will solve the many problems facing ocean salmon. Climate change, declining biomass, bycatch, predation, and several other factors continue to put significant pressure on the species. However, when smolt return rates fall below 0.2%, when many rivers struggle to reach their spawning threshold, and when some have fewer than 50 or 100 spawners, every salmon that survives becomes critically important. The urgent matter is no longer debating whether the situation is worrying. The figures speak for themselves. The urgent matter is to act while there are still enough breeding adults to ensure the natural reproduction of our rivers. Unfortunately, despite the scale of the crisis, many of the most important measures remain voluntary, incomplete or non-existent on a large part of Quebec's rivers. In this context, the salmon's first line of defense is neither a federation, nor an association, nor even a ministry. It is the angler on the riverbank. Every time a fisherman decides to put away his rod because the water is too warm, to keep a salmon in the water for the photo, to shorten a fight, to avoid a thermal refuge or simply to give up fishing when conditions become critical, he is taking a concrete step for the survival of the species. We cannot control what happens in the North Atlantic, the Strait of Belle Isle, or the Gulf of St. Lawrence. We cannot control ocean temperature, changes in the biomass on which salmon depend, bycatch at sea, predation, or the many other threats they face during their time in the ocean. However, we can control what happens at home, on our rivers. We can choose not to fish when the water temperature exceeds 20°C. We can keep the salmon in the water during the photos. We can use a knotless draw, crush our barbs, shorten our fights and avoid disturbing thermal shelters. We can also adapt fishing pressure on the most fragile rivers and provide more protection for spawning fish that still manage to return. None of these measures, taken individually, will save the Atlantic salmon. But together, they can make a real difference for the fish that have already survived all the hardships of the sea and managed to return to our rivers. When returns are as low as they are today, Each spawning adult counts. Every female that reaches her spawning ground counts. Every downstream salmon that survives counts. Every fish that escapes unnecessary stress counts. We have very little control over what happens thousands of kilometers from our rivers. On the other hand, we have almost total control over how we treat the salmon right in front of us. And in the current context, that responsibility has never been more important. Today, more than ever, being a salmon fisherman should not just be a privilege. It should be a responsibility. Because without salmon, there will be nothing left to manage, nothing left to protect, and nothing left to pass on to future generations. Two striking examples from the regions most affected by the decline of Atlantic salmon are the Sainte-Marguerite River in the Saguenay region and the Trinity River on the North Shore. Despite their status as reference rivers for population monitoring, both are now experiencing historically low salmon returns. Table 1. Trinity River, North Shore (Reference River) Table 2. Sainte-Marguerite Main Branch (Saguenay) Please share this blog post and link Deep In Backing (blog) | Shed à Plumes - Feather Shed

Rooster-Rooster | Shed à Plumes - Feather Shed Choosing a grizzly rooster cape is an essential step for any fly tier, whether beginner or experienced. The quality of the feather directly influences the success of your patterns and the performance of your flies while fishing. In this article, I'll guide you in selecting the perfect grizzly rooster cape, giving you practical advice and specific criteria to consider. Why choose a grizzly rooster cape? Grizzly rooster feathers are highly prized for dry fly tying. They offer fine, even, and strong feathers, ideal for imitating the legs and hackles of aquatic insects. The grizzly pattern, with its alternating light and dark barbs, adds realism and natural texture to your creations. Here are the main advantages of a good grizzly rooster cape: Uniformity of feathers : facilitates assembly and ensures a consistent appearance. Durability : the feathers must withstand several fishing trips without degrading. Flexibility : for good movement in the water and better imitation. Appropriate size : depending on the type of fly you wish to tie. These criteria are essential for choosing a cape that will last you a long time. Vue rapprochée d'une cape de coq grizzly avec des plumes fines et régulières How to choose a grizzly rooster cape? To choose the right grizzly rooster cape, several aspects need to be considered. I'll detail the key points to check before buying. 1. The quality of the feathers Observe the regularity of the barbs. They should be well aligned, neither too far apart nor too close together. A good cape has flawless feathers, without breaks or gaps. The color should be well contrasted, with a clear grizzly pattern. 2. Feather size The size of the feathers depends on the type of fly you are tying. For classic dry flies, choose thin, long feathers. For larger patterns, such as streamers, opt for longer, wider feathers. 3. Flexibility and rigidity A quality cape offers a good balance between flexibility and rigidity. The feathers must be rigid enough to hold the shape of the hackle, but flexible enough to move naturally in the water. 4. Provenance and selection Choose Shed à Plumes, which carefully selects its capes. A well-sorted grizzly rooster cape guarantees greater uniformity and consistent quality. 5. Rooster-Rooster | Shed à Plumes - Feather Shed Price often reflects quality. A high-end grizzly rooster cape costs more, but it saves you frustration when tying flies and improves their durability. Is saddle hackle for large dry flies or Wolly Bugger? Saddle hackle, or saddle cape, is another source of feathers used for tying dry flies. It comes from the lower part of the rooster's back, just before the tail. These feathers are longer and finer than cape hackle. Saddle hackle is particularly valued for: Lightweight dry flies : thanks to its fine feathers, it allows for delicate tying. Palmer hackle flies : it makes wrapping around the body easier. Versatility : it can also be used for nymphs or streamers. However, grizzly rooster hackle remains the gold standard for a dense and robust hackle. Saddle hackle complements the cape well, but doesn't completely replace it. Vue en gros plan d'une cape de selle avec des plumes longues et fines Practical tips for riding with a grizzly rooster cape Once you've chosen your cape, you need to know how to use it correctly. Here are some tips to optimize your setups. Preparing the feathers Select the most regular feathers that are suitable for the size of your fly. Remove damaged or too short beards. Lightly dampen the feathers to make them easier to handle. Hackle assembly Attach the feather by its base to the body of the fly. Wrap the hackle in a regular spiral, taking care not to tighten it too much. Use a hackle clamp for better control. Finish with a secure knot to prevent the hackle from unraveling. Feather care After each outing, rinse your flies with clean water. Store them away from moisture and direct light. These simple actions prolong the life of your assemblies and improve their performance. Improve your fly tying with a perfect grizzly rooster cape Choosing a quality grizzly rooster cape transforms your fly-tying experience. You gain in precision, aesthetics, and durability. A good cape makes the job easier, reduces feather loss, and gives your flies a natural look. By investing in a carefully selected fly, you improve your chances of success while fishing. The realism and robustness of your flies will entice even the most wary fish. Don't hesitate to try different fly patterns to find the one that best suits your style and needs. Fly tying is an art that is refined with time and the right equipment. By following these tips, you'll be able to choose the perfect grizzly rooster cape for your fly tying. The quality of the feathers is a key factor in successful dry fly tying and optimizing your fishing trips. Take the time to select your cape carefully; it will make all the difference. Rooster-Rooster | Shed à Plumes - Feather Shed

Heat protocols are often discussed in salmon rivers, but few people truly understand their role and importance in the current context. Yet, the principle is relatively simple. As water temperatures rise, the amount of available oxygen decreases while the salmon's needs increase. The fish must therefore expend more energy simply to maintain their vital functions. Under these conditions, any additional effort becomes more difficult to sustain. This is where sport fishing comes in, even when practiced exclusively with catch and release. A caught salmon must exert significant effort during the fight. It accumulates physiological stress, produces lactic acid, and draws on its energy reserves. In cold, well-oxygenated water, most fish recover relatively well when handled properly. But when the water reaches high temperatures, this recovery becomes much more difficult. A salmon may appear to be in good condition after being released, but suffer significant consequences several hours or even several days later. In a context where Atlantic salmon populations were abundant, some might have considered this mortality negligible. Today, the situation is completely different. Several Quebec rivers are experiencing historically low runs and are struggling to meet their conservation goals. Some rivers see fewer than 100 adult salmon return. Others have fewer than 50. At this stage, each spawning fish that manages to reach the spawning grounds represents a significant contribution to the survival of the population. It is also important to understand that during periods of severe low water levels and high temperatures, fishing is not the only factor that can impact salmon. As water temperatures rise, salmon often congregate in thermal refuges—areas where an underground spring, tributary, or small stream provides cooler water. These areas then become crucial to their survival. In these refuges, salmon are extremely vulnerable. They often position themselves very precisely to take advantage of the narrow corridor of fresh water available. When a swimmer crosses the area, a canoe passes directly into the refuge, or people repeatedly move through the water, the fish can be displaced from their optimal position. Each movement requires additional energy expenditure at a time when they are trying to conserve every available calorie to survive the warmer months. This is why many modern heat protocols don't focus solely on fishing. They also aim to raise public awareness about the importance of respecting thermal refuges and limiting activities that could disturb salmon in these critical areas. When a fish is already struggling with a lack of oxygen, high temperatures, and sometimes several weeks without food, even the slightest disturbance can have far greater consequences than one might imagine. Of course, sport fishing alone is not responsible for the decline of Atlantic salmon. The problems are much broader and include changes occurring at sea, climate change, habitat degradation, predation, and several other factors that are still poorly understood. However, the fact that sport fishing is not the primary cause does not mean that it has no impact. particularly in rivers where upstream migrations have become extremely weak. When the rate of salmon returning to rivers is as low as it is today, every fish that survives to spawn becomes immensely valuable. In this context, the goal of a heat protocol is not to prevent people from pursuing their passion, but rather to temporarily protect the last remaining spawners when environmental conditions reduce their chances of survival. It is a precautionary measure that acknowledges a simple reality: we cannot control what happens at sea, but we can ensure that the salmon that have managed to return to our rivers have the best possible chance of completing their life cycle. Ultimately, the question isn't whether we enjoy salmon fishing. Most of us are here precisely because we do. The real question is what we're willing to do to ensure its presence in our rivers for future generations. Because when some populations dwindle to just a few dozen fish, conservation can no longer be considered an option. It must become the absolute priority. A heat protocol is life insurance for the last breeding stock!

Synthetic materials: when technology meets the art of assembly For generations, fly tiers have built their reputation on the use of natural feathers, hair, and fur. These materials remain essential today and continue to produce some of the most beautiful flies in the world. But in recent decades,synthetic materials have opened up a whole new world of possibilities. Holographic reflections, UV fibers, phosphorescence, improved movements, increased strength and exceptional durability: modern synthetic materials make it possible to create flies that are more visible, more attractive and often more effective than ever before. At La Shed à Plumes , we select quality synthetic materials that perfectly complement natural materials to offer fly tiers the best of both worlds. Why are synthetic materials so effective? In nature, predatory fish react primarily to a few stimuli: The light reflections. The contrasts. The movements. The silhouettes. UV signals. Subtle color changes depending on the angle of the light. Modern synthetic materials have been developed precisely to amplify these signals and make a fly more visible and attractive. Flashabou UV Phosphorescent Glow 0.6 mm & Flashabou UV Pearl Phosphorescent Glow 0.6 mm Flashabou UV phosphorescent glow 0.6 mm and Flashabou UV pearl phosphorescent glow 0.6 mm are materials designed to attract attention even when conditions become more challenging. Thanks to its ability to reflect UV rays and retain a phosphorescent effect after exposure to light, it continues to produce a noticeable glow in deep, tinted waters or on cloudy days. Just a few fibers are enough to bring life to a streamer wing, a salmon fly tail, or an imitation intended for predators. UV fibers for streamers and intruders Modern UV fibers allow for the addition of an extra dimension to the assemblies. Unlike conventional fibers, they reflect certain wavelengths present in the aquatic environment more effectively. The result is a fly that remains visible even when the light diminishes or the water becomes darker. These fibers are particularly valued for: Trout streamers. Salmon and steelhead intruders. Pike flies. Rigs intended for striped bass. They also allow for the creation of depth and transparency effects that are impossible to achieve with traditional materials. Wavy Flash Fiber Map Gliss Lateral Scale Flashabou The Lateral Scale Flashabou remarkably imitates the reflections produced by the scales of a baitfish. Spécifications Largeur : 0,7 à 1 mm (0,028" à 0,039") Longueur : environ 28 à 30 cm (11,02" à 11,81") Poids par paquet : 7 à 8 grammes Its unique texture and pearly reflections produce changing flashes that perfectly reproduce the movements of an injured or fleeing fish. In water, each fiber acts like a small reflective scale that captures and diffuses light from multiple angles. It is a material of choice for modern streamers designed to: With Atlantic salmon. With trout. With pike. With muskellunge. At the striped bar. Flat holographic flashabou 0.4 mm and Gliss & Glow 1 mm wavy flash fibers Holographic flat tinsel remains one of the most versatile materials in the world of editing. A flat, thin, highly reflective synthetic flash material designed to add brilliance, movement, and attractive highlights to fly wings, tails, and bodies. Its holographic finish catches light from various angles, even in low light. Ideal for tying salmon, steelhead, trout, and other flies requiring a realistic and long-lasting flash effect. Modern holographic versions create multidirectional reflections that constantly change depending on the angle of the light and current. Whether for traditional salmon flies, streamers or patterns intended for sea fishing, flat tinsel retains its place among the most effective materials ever created. Wavy, flashy synthetic fibers designed to add brilliance, movement, and volume to fly patterns. Their waffle texture creates multidirectional reflections that mimic the natural flashes of baitfish. Thanks to their Gliss & Glow effect , they offer excellent underwater visibility, even in low-light conditions. Ideal for the wings, tails, and bodies of salmon, steelhead, and trout flies. Soft, lightweight, and easy to incorporate into all types of fly patterns. 3D Holographic Eyes & 4D Holographic Eyes : The Finishing Touch If there is one detail capable of completely transforming a fly or streamer, it is the eyes. The 4D holographic eyes replicate the three-dimensional appearance of a baitfish's natural eyes. Numerous studies on predator behavior demonstrate that the eyes are an important focal point when attacking prey. Adding realistic eyes allows for: To increase realism. To improve the overall profile of the lure. To create a natural point of attack. To add reflections visible from afar. They have become practically indispensable in modern streamers for pike, muskellunge, striped bass, trophy trout and several marine species. Minnow Synthetic Wavy Fibers: Volume without weight Minnow-type synthetic fibers represent a major evolution in the design of modern streamers. Their slightly wavy, waterproof texture does not retain water, creates movement and allows for impressive profiles without making the fly difficult to cast. They allow you to create realistic imitations of smelt, fry, herring or other forage fish while maintaining excellent mobility. Length: 32 to 35 cm Weight: 7 to 9 g Colors: 14 colors available Material: Corrugated synthetic fibers, completely waterproof Use: Streamer fly tying, freshwater and saltwater fishing Targets: Trout, pike, musky, salmon, striped bass, and many others Tradition and innovation The best editors know that it's not a question of choosing between natural and synthetic materials. A Finn Raccoon wing enhanced with Flashabou UV. A classic salmon fly embellished with a few holographic fibers. A Minnow fiber streamer equipped with 4D eyes. This combination often produces the most effective flies. At La Shed à Plumes , we believe that innovation should serve the fly tyer's creativity. That's why we offer both high-end feathers and furs as well as the best-performing synthetic materials available today. Because in the end, whether it is tied with a rare feather or a state-of-the-art holographic fiber, a good fly has only one goal: to come to life in the water and convince the fish that it is real.

The Radio-Canada Bas-Saint-Laurent article highlights a problem that many still refuse to acknowledge: Quebec's salmon rivers are now reaching temperatures that are dangerous for salmon survival, to the point where temporary fishing bans are necessary. These rivers regularly exceed critical thresholds during heat waves. The real problem is that we are still acting as if these temperatures were exceptional… when they risk becoming the new normal. Photo Riviere Trinité 2025 While we're still debating whether sport fishing "has an impact" or not, the salmon are taking the brunt of it: waters at 24, 25, sometimes close to 30 °C; additional battles; often inadequate manipulations; enormous stress on populations that are already historically weak. When a river falls below 100 salmon… or worse, below 50… every spawning fish counts. Absolutely every living fish becomes precious to ensure a minimum spawning rate and prevent the complete collapse of the river. What's troubling is that, despite being the Director General of the FQSA, Ms. Bergeron often speaks of long-term solutions: reforestation, shoreline restoration, marine research, climate change, survival in Greenland… But while we wait for these solutions, which will take years, why are we still hesitating to immediately implement all available tools to reduce mortality? Heat protocols. Limited fishing in the morning. Strict catch and release. Crushed barbs. Reduced fights, etc. We can no longer claim that we “lack data” or that we “don’t really know what’s going on” when there is now a vast network of thermographs deployed in salmon rivers, including several on the North Shore. The FQSA itself participated in the deployment of numerous thermographs and acknowledges having a significant amount of continuous temperature data on salmon rivers. This data exists. It is measured. It is recorded. And it clearly shows that several rivers are reaching critical temperatures for salmon. The Quebec government itself recognizes that beyond certain thresholds — particularly around 22°C — physiological stress increases sharply and the survival of salmon released back into the water decreases. So when we see rivers on the North Shore reaching 24, 25, sometimes even close to 30 °C in certain areas, we are no longer talking about a simple “discomfort” for the salmon. We are talking about: from a lack of oxygen; of major thermal stress; of an increased risk of mortality after release back into the water; and a direct impact on populations already in freefall. The hardest thing for many fishermen to understand is that we now have the tools to act: thermographs; real-time data; identified thermal shelters; heat protocols; scientific studies; temperature history. But despite this, there is still hesitation to implement strong measures on several rivers. And while we debate… the salmon continues to disappear. The argument that the majority of Quebec's salmon rivers are still "relatively spared" by the heat is becoming increasingly difficult to defend when looking at the actual data on the ground. The Trinité River — a reference river on the North Shore monitored since 1984 with a fish pass and counting system — has already reached up to 29.5 °C in the evening. We're talking about an Atlantic salmon river here. Not a shallow pond in the middle of a drought. And the Trinity is not alone. The Moisie, the Godbout, the Pentecôte, the Escoumins and several other rivers also record temperatures of 24, 25 °C and more during the summer. At these temperatures, salmon do not “adapt”. They survive as best they can. It often stops migrating. It concentrates in the few thermal refuges. Its stress level skyrockets. Available oxygen decreases. The risk of mortality increases. And each additional handling becomes a real risk. Meanwhile, we are still being told that we must be careful before closing rivers because fishermen serve as “guardians of the territory”, because the organizations are economically fragile, because we must protect the industry. But one fundamental thing must eventually be understood: Without salmon, there will be nothing left to manage. More industry. More outfitters. No more ZECs. No more salmon tourism. No more replacements. More folklore. Just empty rivers and memories. Yes, protecting riparian buffer zones and replanting trees is essential. Yes, protecting thermal refuges is indispensable. But these are solutions that will take years, sometimes decades, to have a real effect. Salmon, however, are currently experiencing a crisis. So refusing or delaying heat protocols under the pretext that "some rivers are still okay" is playing with an already extremely fragile resource. The data is there. The temperatures are here. The warning signs are there. The real question is simple: How many rivers will have to reach 25, 27 or 29 °C before we finally stop treating this crisis as a problem of the future? Because at the rate things are going, the question is no longer: "Can we still fish for salmon?" The real question becomes: "Do we even want any left?"

Atlantic salmon are probably going through one of the most serious crises in their modern history. And despite this, the 2026 season begins exactly like the previous ones: same behaviors, same excuses, same collective inability to recognize the true extent of the collapse. Our kelts. Our black salmon, thin and weakened, that spent the entire winter in the river after spawning in the fall. Fish that have barely eaten for months. Exhausted survivors now undertaking an extremely dangerous migration to the grazing grounds of Greenland to try to recover physically before, perhaps, returning to spawn again. They are probably the most vulnerable fish in the entire population. And yet, some are still being pulled from the water, handled, photographed, and displayed as early-season trophies. Seeing migrating salmon dangling from boats in 2026, after the historic collapses of 2024 and 2025, is not just poor judgment. It's a sign that some in the industry still refuse to grasp how dire the situation has become. And too many anglers still set foot in a river without even knowing the numbers of salmon runs it receives. That's the real problem. We continue to talk about salmon as a passion, a tradition, or a heritage, but too few people seem ready to accept what the situation truly demands when populations collapse. The salmon that are returning today do not represent an abundance. They represent what remains. The survivors of a brutal multifactorial mortality: warming waters, lack of food, predation, diseases, accidental capture, habitat degradation, marine disturbances in the Gulf and the North Atlantic. Fish that have survived the ocean. Fish that survived the winter with almost no energy reserves. Emaciated fish returning to spawn with what little strength they have left. And despite this, we still too often continue to treat them as biologically available trophies. The unease is there. We know. The figures exist. The signals are everywhere. But collectively, we still refuse to act in proportion to the crisis. Because truly acting would require courage. The courage to impose mandatory heat protocols. The courage to suspend subsistence fishing on devastated populations. The courage to temporarily close certain rivers below biologically critical thresholds. The courage to publicly admit that simply putting it back in the water does not constitute a recovery strategy. Releasing the fish back into the water is a minimum measure. Nothing more. When a river receives fewer than 150 salmon, each spawner becomes biologically important. At these levels, even pressure deemed “acceptable” under normal circumstances can have serious consequences. And yet, instead of fundamentally questioning our practices, we often continue to protect something else: our habits, our comfort, our image as salmon anglers, and our need to carry on as before. Perhaps the most shocking part of this whole crisis is not just the salmon collapse itself, but our ability to normalize it while it unfolds before our eyes. As if simply releasing a fish is now enough to erase all moral responsibility toward a declining population. The reality is much harsher. A species doesn't disappear solely because of what happens at sea. It also disappears when those who claim to love it become incapable of sacrificing themselves to give it a real chance of survival.

Part 3 — Manitoulin Island, the great steelheads, and the beginning of the return journey After my approximately two-hour crossing from Tobermory to South Baymouth, I finally reached the shores of Manitoulin Island. Even upon arrival, I felt that something was different here. The water in Georgian Bay was almost unreal in its beauty. Turquoise greens, deep blues, incredible clarity. The islands seemed to float in the evening light. At times, it was almost like the sea. The ferry moved smoothly between the islands as I watched the scenery go by, a coffee in hand. After several days of driving, rivers, and miles, this crossing felt good. It seemed to slow down time a little. Disembarking in South Baymouth, I headed leisurely toward the Manitou River, probably the most famous river on the island for steelhead. The roads were beautiful. Little traffic. Forests everywhere. Still a bit of snow in the undergrowth in some places. From the start of the trip, the temperature never really wanted to rise. Even in the middle of the afternoon, it was often only 6 or 7 degrees. Spring was still fragile here. As I approached Lake Manitou, I saw a few fishermen near a dam. Some were fishing with egg bags, others were waiting patiently along the pools. But honestly… that wasn't what I was looking for. So I continued following the river towards its mouth. And then… wow. The place was magnificent. Trails ran alongside the river through a forest still damp with spring. The water was high, cold, and powerful. You could clearly see that the snow was still melting in the north. The locals even told me the river was experiencing a historic flood. There was still snow in the woods in some places. And despite all that, despite the cold and the strong current, the first fresh steelhead were starting to come up. The season had only just opened, on the second Saturday of May. You could feel that everything was just beginning. Birds were everywhere. Canada geese. Ducks. Turkey vultures circling high in the sky. Bald eagles, even juveniles. Then that peculiar silence of the great cold rivers of spring. There was very little litter compared to other places I'd seen during the trip. A few pieces of paper here and there, yes, but nothing dramatic. Nothing like some of the small urban rivers in Ontario that had so discouraged me earlier in the trip. Here, you could still feel nature. Real nature. I finally got my two-handed rod ready. A 14-footer. Then I started watching the water. Not long after, I spotted some fish. Really nice, fresh steelheads. I tied on an imitation I'd tied last year before my trip. An egg-style imitation with very bright flash orange crystal chenille and a bit of marabou to give it some movement. First throw. Nothing. I added a little weight to make the fly sink further. Second presentation. Bang. The fight exploded immediately. The steelhead took off down the current like a train. It was jumping high, using the full force of the river. With the strong current and the speed of the water, I knew I couldn't make a mistake. Then, when I finally saw it surface in the clear water near the large rock down in the bend of Falls Pool… I quickly understood. It was the biggest steelhead of my life. A huge chrome female. Thick. Fresh. Golden eyes. An absolutely magnificent fish. About 31 inches. Probably between 12 and 14 pounds. I was alone with her in that vast river, surrounded by birds, the sound of the water, and then the trees still damp with spring. Honestly… my heart was pounding. When I put her back in the water, I took a few seconds just to watch the current. Moments like that… money can't buy them. A few casts later, I caught another one. A beautiful silver male, smaller, but extremely feisty. Then another. Then more followed. Until darkness fell, I had an incredible evening. I lost a few people too. A big fish even completely ripped open an old Mustad hook that I'd been using since last year. The leader didn't break. The hook literally split open. But honestly, it was part of the moment. The river was alive. And so was I. The only downside was that we couldn't stay in the park after 11 p.m. So, although I would have liked to stay longer, listen to the river and then do a few more presentations in the dark, we had to leave. Around 9 a.m., I started walking toward the truck. I was tired. A little frozen. But deeply happy. I found an old logging road not far from a lake to set up camp. A quiet spot, hidden in the woods. I pulled back along the trail, set up camp, and turned on the heater. That night, it wasn't so cold. And for the first time in several days… I slept really well. There wasn't a sound of human presence. Only the wind in the trees. A few raccoons running around the camper. Then coyotes that could be heard in the distance in the night. At one point, I even went outside, laughing a little: "Okay... let me sleep." Then I went back under the covers. The next morning, I drove back down to South Baymouth to get gas. I was starting to think about the return trip. It was going to be a long drive. A very long drive. I was over 2,000 kilometers from home, and I knew I needed to start making my way back slowly because work was waiting for me, and there were several things to take care of at home as well. But before I left, there was a simple little moment that I'll probably never forget. I walked into a small gas station run by some older people. I needed orange juice and then a coffee. And then… that smell. Real, good, freshly ground coffee. Not machine coffee. The man looked at me and then said, "Smells good, doesn't it? This is my personal coffee." He went back to make me a coffee with his own artisanal beans that he bought near a local roaster. Milk. Sugar. But that coffee tasted like the whole trip. I then went back to Falls Pool one last time. This time, there were more fishermen. And one in particular really didn't seem happy to see me arrive. An arrogant guy. Condescending. Very snobbish about fly fishing. He was fishing with egg bags and then seemed convinced that no one else could catch fish. When he got snagged in the branches, he even tried to make me believe it was my fault. But while he was arguing… I was watching in the water. And I could see the steelheads. Beautiful fish right in front of us. I positioned myself quietly a little lower, between him and his friend, then started making a few small roll casts. Third cast, bang! Another steelhead, not huge, but a superb specimen. And while he was looking at me with that stupid expression… he had just taken a miller. Then another miller, the famous karma for the "Sucker". I was smiling. Not to mock anyone. But because I was happy to be exactly where I was. In that cold northern river. With my fly. My birds. And then spring, finally beginning to breathe. After releasing a few more fish, I decided that was enough. The trip was quietly drawing to a close. I headed back east. I drove for a long time that evening. I passed North Bay and finally settled down near a transmission line in the woods, not far from a pipeline that goes down towards Quebec. And yes, another small, improvised campsite, simple, silent and perfect. The next day, near the Bécancour River, about 100 kilometers from Quebec City, I saw a large Canadian crane standing by the roadside. I stopped the truck. I got out slowly. Then I looked at it. And that's when I thought about the beginning of the journey. On the morning of my departure, cranes from Canada had flown over the house. As if they were accompanying the road. I've always found those birds magnificent. Immense. Elegant. Wild. And I found it sad to think that some people still want to hunt them. I stayed there for a few minutes, simply watching the river and then the bird. Then I got back in the truck. The return journey had begun. But deep down, I already knew one thing: This trip was only the first of the season. Not the last.

Part 2 — Saugeen, the wind and Georgian Bay The first day on the Saugeen River was mostly a day of exploration. Many kilometers. Many country roads. Many stops trying to find access points where I could actually wade in my waders, because the Saugeen isn't a small, intimate river like some of the rivers on Lake Ontario. It's wide. Very wide in places. A real big river with a strong current, long pools, and a lot of water to cover. I drove up towards Walkerton. That town rang a bell. It was the site of the major water contamination tragedy in the early 2000s. I vaguely remembered it. A story that had affected all of Canada. I stopped at a small local fishing shop. Another great spot. Good people. I chatted with them for a bit, asked for some advice on water levels and accessible areas. They directed me to an access point near the concession on Route 10. The day was magnificent. Sunshine. A bit of wind. But a truly beautiful spring day. I went to access point number 7, if I remember correctly. There was a lovely spot to set up camp near the river. Quiet. Clean. Natural. Exactly what I was looking for. In the afternoon, I started exploring the Saugeen River. The first evening, I saw a few fish. A few movements. A few follows on my fly. But nothing concrete. No fight. No real contact. Then, late in the evening, just before going back to eat, I saw it. A huge steelhead. A real giant. Probably around 8-10 kilos. One of the biggest steelheads I've ever seen up close. The fish was stationary there, calm, in shallow water. I started presenting it with different flies. No reaction. Then suddenly, everything changed. The fish started rising to the surface. Small flies were coming out, and it was eating them right in front of me. Slowly. Confidently. An incredible sight. The problem was, I was rigged up to fish with a wet fly. I quickly changed my setup. I added a dry caddis. A rusty orange one, recently mounted by my friend Didier Lafleur, which he had sent me in the mail not long ago. The steelhead has been mounted on it twice. Twice. But without ever touching the fly. I then followed it along the river. The fish was drifting calmly downstream, rising to the surface in different spots. I threw him everything. Small dry flies. Hoppers. Sedges. Blue Wing Olives. Small emergers. Nothing. He came to look. He inspected. He ignored everything. I even went back to Didier's famous rust-orange caddis. Once again, he stepped onto it… without ever taking it. The fish were moving close to the banks, sometimes in less than two feet of water, completely in control. And me… completely obsessed with that one fish. I tried until the dead of night. Until the very last minute. But that steelhead never gave me a chance. I finally returned to the camper, thinking that perhaps our paths would cross again the next day. That night, it was milder than the other nights of the trip. Maybe 9 or 10 degrees Celsius. I didn't use the heating as much. I slept soundly. A really good night's sleep. And honestly, I needed it. Because deep down, this trip isn't just a fishing trip. It's a trip to see the country. To explore. To meet people. To see different cultures. To discover other ways of experiencing rivers. It's also a way to confront myself a little. To observe what's happening around me. To see nature in a different context. To understand the different seasons, the different behaviors of the fish, the different techniques, the different mindsets. All those things that deeply fascinate true anglers. The next morning, I woke up at a leisurely pace. Several people were near the boat launch preparing their canoes to go down the river. I decided to try the entire river again, still using the drowning technique. But that day… nothing. Not a single fish. I saw absolutely nothing. However, I did see something else. The river. The trees. The birds. The light rain that sometimes fell gently, and then suddenly thunder flashed across the surface. The wind picked up considerably. Strong enough to break tree branches that fell near me. At that moment, I understood that the Saugeen trip was going to be postponed. I decided to hit the road again. Destination: Georgian Bay. I headed to Tobermory to catch the ferry to South Baymouth on Manitoulin Island. And honestly… what a magnificent place. The Bruce Peninsula is spectacularly beautiful. The water of Lake Huron is so clear it almost looks like the sea in some places. Greens. Turquoise blues. Colors that almost reminded me of certain images of the French Riviera. The ferry crossing takes approximately 1 hour and 50 minutes. A superb boat, operated by the local Indigenous communities. A magnificent vessel adorned with beautiful Indigenous artwork and paintings. The crossing itself is a spectacle. Islands everywhere. Rock formations. The light striking the water. The turquoise waters of Georgian Bay constantly changing color. The Manitoulin Islands practically form a natural boundary across this entire section of Georgian Bay. It's difficult to properly explain in words. You have to see it. Tonight, I'm going to try to find a place to sleep. And tomorrow, I'm going to continue my journey towards the north shores of Lake Superior. The journey continues. And the further I go… the more I feel like I’m finding something I’ve needed to find for a long time.

Part 1 — Finding something true Sunday, May 3rd, morning, 6 a.m. I left home heading towards Ontario. The road was beautiful. Not too much traffic, not too hot, just a light breeze that gently rocked the truck. A true spring day to hit the road and rack up the miles. I was looking forward to returning to Ontario. My first stop was in Montreal, more precisely in Beloeil, before continuing west. Then, a mandatory stop at Sail to restock: sinking tips, leaders, and most importantly, my favorite Yo-Zuri fluorocarbon, the pink one. Seriously, that stuff is exceptional. When you find something reliable on the river, you stick with it. I then headed towards Indian Falls, a small, quiet Ontario community on the banks of the St. Lawrence River. The place feels almost like an old historical site, with an old lock converted into a marina. There were a few fishermen, some campers set up near the water, and above all, peace and quiet. I settled in there for the night. A light rain was falling gently. Nothing serious. But it was cold. Really cold for this time of year. Maybe 2 degrees Celsius. Maybe close to zero. The kind of damp cold that seeps into your bones when the sun disappears. The next morning, I was woken by a pair of swans. I'd seen swans before in Ontario, but never a pair this close. I watched them glide across the water in the morning silence and thought to myself that the trip was off to a good start. I closed the camper's roof and set off for Port Hope. It was incredibly windy that day, but the weather was beautiful. Maybe 10 or 12 degrees Celsius. I was eager to get there, so I rode hard. Way too much headwind, a lot of gas burned, but it didn't matter. When you're looking forward to seeing a river, the kilometers pass differently. I arrived in Port Hope before dinner. I met up with some acquaintances, chatted for a bit, ate with them, and then we decided to check out the Ganaraska River upstream. The river was small, intimate, with lots of steelhead. There must have been tons of fish in there. But something really struck me. I've never seen so much trash on a riverbank. To me, the Ganaraska had practically become the official Tim Hortons dump of Ontario. Red cups everywhere. Lids. Bags. Trash in the trees, in the rocks, in the ditches. Everywhere. And it really discouraged me. Because for me, a river isn't just about fish. It's all of nature. The plants. The birds. The silence. The feeling of being far from human noise. I didn't feel that there. I still managed to hook a nice steelhead, about 6 to 8 pounds. A beautiful, fresh fish. I lost it pretty quickly. I'd used a barbless hook and didn't handle the fish properly. But honestly, it didn't bother me that much. I would have released it anyway. That night, I went to sleep near Cobourg, in a parking lot for hiking trails along the river. Alain was there too. We settled in quietly with the camper. Later that evening, I decided to go see the river with a headlamp. And then… surprise. Steelheads everywhere. Hundreds of them. In a short accessible section, there must have been 300 or 400 fish. Beautiful, healthy fish. Silvery shadows moving all over the dark current. But again… the trash. More Tim Hortons cups. More garbage. Even old tires at the bottom of the river. I looked at it and thought: how can we claim to love rivers if we treat them like this? This wasn't my place. Perhaps some people like this atmosphere. The small urban rivers, the crowds everywhere, the full parking lots, the TH cafes on every corner. But not me. I'm looking for silence. I'm looking for birds. I'm looking for wildflowers. I'm looking for the feeling of being small within something bigger than myself. The next morning, I decided to head west, towards Goderich and the Maitland River. And then the trip changed. Passing near Toronto, I stopped at Drift Outfitters & Fly Shop. What a great shop! Welcoming, passionate, and knowledgeable people. Quality tackle everywhere. Flies, leaders, two-handed rod supplies—just pop into the till and the journey resumes on a different beat. I recommend stopping by to any fishing enthusiast passing through the area. Then I ended up back on the 401. Never again. Accidents, traffic jams, endless traffic. We were sometimes driving at 30 or 40 km/h. I checked the GPS and then decided to avoid highways. And honestly, it was probably the best decision of the trip. I found myself on the country roads of Ontario. Farms. Fields stretching as far as the eye could see. Quiet villages. And then that organic, country smell that hung in the air. It was strong in some places, but it didn't bother me. I grew up on a farm in Cap-Pelé, New Brunswick. Those smells remind me of my grandparents' farm. My childhood. A simpler time. It's amazing how a smell can bring back memories. Finally, I reached the Maitland River. And there… at last. Real nature! A steep dirt road led down to the spot where I wanted to set up camp. I had to engage four-wheel drive to get out of a tight spot without breaking anything. Once I was settled, I looked around and immediately felt the difference. No trash. No noise. Nothing but the river, the trees, and the wind—in short, nature. Wildflowers were everywhere. So were the birds. I felt good. The next morning, I got up late. Tired, but happy. I made myself a coffee. My first real, peaceful coffee of the trip. Not a coffee bought quickly in a parking lot. A real coffee in the silence of nature. Then I went for a walk to an area I loved and that a friend had shown me before. After about 35 minutes of walking, I arrived. And what a place! Red-winged blackbirds everywhere. Tree swallows flying over the water. Songbirds in every direction. A bald eagle perched nearby that flew away when it saw me coming. Turkey vultures circling overhead. Families of bustards with their chicks. The river was alive. Completely alive. That's where I tied on my first fly. A few minutes later, bang. My first Maitland steelhead. A beautiful, fresh fish, 8 to 10 pounds. I was nervous. Alone with my rod, two-handed. I didn't want to lose it. When I finally managed to release it, I was almost in tears. Because it wasn't just a fish. It was exactly why I'd come here. Afterward, I sat by the river with a Dillan's gin cooler, an Ontario product I'd brought along. I was watching the water. The birds. The current. Then I just thought: thank you. Later, I caught another steelhead, a bit smaller, maybe 6 to 8 pounds. This one jumped several times. It used the entire river. An incredible fight. Then the smallmouth bass started biting. Beautiful, solid fish. One in particular must have been close to 3.5 kilos. All released. As darkness began to fall, I decided to head back up before it got completely dark. The path was steep and slippery, and I was alone. There was no question of taking unnecessary risks. I arrived at the campsite around 9 a.m. A sandwich. A little warmth. Then sleep. That night, it froze. The next day, city workers came to repair a culvert blocked by beavers. They were the first people I'd seen in a long time. And honestly… it suited me perfectly. I went back fishing. Not many fish that day. Just a few bass. A cold front seemed to have slowed things down. But I didn't even mind. Because deep down, this trip wasn't just about fishing anymore. It was about connection. With the rivers. With the birds. With the silence. With something real. Finally, towards the end of the day, I decided to leave again. Heading towards the Saugeen river. I am now settled near landing stage number 12. Tomorrow, I will explore upstream, discover this river which I do not yet know, then continue on the road. And honestly…I'm already looking forward to seeing what she's going to show me.

Total run GS Adult Salmon and PS Grilse Trinity River is one of the most troubling examples because we are talking about an indicator river scientifically monitored for decades. This is not based on impressions. These are not anecdotes. These are data collected year after year through a fish ladder and counting system operated by the Ministère de la Faune, des Forêts et des Parcs. Since 1984, every salmon run has been telling the same story: a gradual, constant, and now alarming decline in the number of spawning fish. And that is what hits the hardest. When a river monitored this closely shows a decline over more than 30 years, we can no longer talk about a simple bad cycle. We are looking at a major biological warning sign. A long-term trend. Atlantic salmon are resilient fish, capable of surviving difficult periods. But even a resilient species eventually reaches a critical point when there are too few spawners left to maintain a stable population. Every salmon that does not spawn today can mean thousands fewer smolts tomorrow. And with marine return rates now so catastrophically low, every single spawner has become incredibly valuable. The Trinity River now acts almost like a silent witness to what is happening across Quebec. It documents, in black and white, what many still refuse to acknowledge: the decline is no longer theoretical. It is measured. Counted. Archived for decades.

They attack the messenger because the message makes people uncomfortable Let me make something very clear. I have never attacked sport anglers. I have never attacked biologists. I have never attacked associations, guides, volunteers, people on the ground, or anyone who gives their time, energy, and heart to Atlantic salmon, never. What I am pointing at is not the individuals who love salmon. What I am pointing at is a system. A system that, in the face of a historic crisis, still seems unable to shift into emergency mode. A system that too often protects the culture of salmon fishing, the image, the folklore, the events, the habits, and the economy built around salmon before protecting the salmon itself in a clear, biological, and responsible way. And when someone dares to say that out loud, some people act offended. They attack the messenger. They try to put words in my mouth. They claim I am blaming sport fishing for the collapse of salmon. That is false. I have never said that sport fishing is the main cause of the decline. I know very well that the major mortality is probably happening at sea. I know very well that the causes are multiple: changes in the Gulf, water temperature, food availability, predation, accidental catches, aquaculture, disease, habitat, water levels, and water quality. But using the complexity of what happens at sea as an argument to avoid taking strong action here, now, is too easy. The problems at sea are enormous. They are complex. They will cost fortunes to understand, and even more to correct, if we ever manage to correct them. Changing the thermal regime of the ocean, fixing food availability on salmon feeding grounds, controlling what happens in the Gulf, around Greenland, offshore, in fisheries, and within the interactions between species — that is not a small task. There is no miracle pill coming tomorrow morning. And while we study all of that, while we search, while we debate, while we wait for perfect answers, the salmon that come back to our rivers are already here. Few in number. Exhausted. Vulnerable. And they need to spawn. That is where I say: can we at least do better here at home? Can we at least make sure that the maximum number of salmon that survived the ocean can reach the spawning grounds? Can we admit that egg deposition has never been more important? Can we stop managing this as if it were just another bad year? Because this is not just another bad year. This is a historic crisis. The returns of 2024 and 2025 are among the most disastrous since salmon have been seriously counted in our rivers. And in that context, a river receiving 20, 30, 40, 50, 100, or even fewer than 150 salmon should no longer be treated like a river open to business as usual. At that level, every salmon counts. Every spawner counts. Every female counts. Every fish that reaches the spawning grounds counts. And yes, at that point, even the act of fishing becomes pressure. Even catch and release becomes pressure. Stress, handling, the fight, warm water, delayed migration, poor conditions all of that matters when only a handful of fish remain. We also have to be honest: in this entire crisis, the only major measure really being put forward is catch and release. And that measure should have been widely implemented more than ten years ago. But if catch and release has become our only answer to protect the last salmon, then we are in serious trouble. Catch and release is not a recovery strategy. It is a minimum damage-reduction measure. Is it better than killing a salmon? Of course. But it is not a sufficient response when some rivers are now on the edge of collapse. We will not fix the ocean this season.We will not fix the climate this season.We will not fix aquaculture this season.We will not fix accidental catches this season.We will not fix the marine food chain this season. But this season, we can decide to leave the few salmon that managed to come back alone. That is my point. This is not an attack. It is a wake-up call. And I know very well that I am not the only one thinking this. Many people around me see the same thing and say the same thing in private, but they do not dare say it publicly because they know what happens next: people shoot the messenger instead of facing the message. But attacking the messenger proves exactly that there is a problem. A serious problem. Because some people have held important positions over the last few years. Key positions in the development, management, image, or protection of Atlantic salmon. And today, instead of admitting that the system waited too long, that the decisions were not strong enough, that the warning signs were ignored for too long, people get defensive. But the salmon no longer has the luxury of waiting for everyone to save face. It does not need us to protect the image of those who waited too long to act. It does not need us to protect the comfort of salmon anglers. It does not need us to protect the folklore. It does not need us to protect the industry built around it. It needs us to protect its ability to survive and spawn. So yes, we need to work on the ocean. Yes, we need to work on habitat. Yes, we need to work on water quality, temperatures, predators, accidental catches, aquaculture, and everything else. But in the meantime, here, in our rivers, we have an immediate responsibility. And that responsibility is to protect the last salmon that return. Not in ten years. Not when we have the perfect study. Not when the system becomes comfortable with the idea. Because when we keep looking for reasons not to act here at home, we end up protecting our habits more than we protect the salmon. And if the only answer to those calling for stronger measures is to dismiss them, caricature them, or put words in their mouth, then we need to ask a real question: Are we still here to protect the salmon? Or are we mostly here to protect the image of what we built around it?

When salmon becomes secondary, we’re no longer managing a resource—we’re accompanying its decline. At some point, we have to stop lying to ourselves. Atlantic salmon in Québec doesn’t need to be celebrated more. It needs to be protected. For real. Now. When podcasts, magazines, mentorships, banquets, film festivals, photo contests, and the entire culture surrounding salmon take up more space than the salmon itself, there’s a deep problem. Not a minor issue—a complete drift. We’ve reversed our priorities. We protect the image of the salmon angler. We protect habits. We protect events. We protect folklore. We protect the experience. But the salmon—the one that has to return upriver, survive, spawn, and ensure the future—where does it stand on the list? So low that it’s almost invisible. We talk about it. We photograph it. We film it. We use it as a symbol. We put it on posters, in magazines, in videos, at fundraising events. But while we celebrate it, it’s disappearing. And that’s the real scandal. Because without salmon, there are no salmon anglers. No culture. No tradition. No legendary rivers. Nothing left to tell. Only the memory of a resource we watched collapse while still organizing events around it. Let’s be clear: more visibility will not save salmon. More content, more banquets, more speeches, more publications, more beautiful photos—none of that will reverse the trend. What it will take is difficult decisions. Strong measures. Real sacrifices. Management that finally puts the fish ahead of the social, tourism, and cultural industries built around it. Because at a certain point, continuing as we always have is no longer tradition. It’s blindness. And what if, for once, On Écoutait Vraiment le Saumon? (we actually listened to the salmon?) Not the interests. Not the habits. Not the excuses. Not the empty phrases. Not the “we’ve always done it this way.” The salmon. The one returning in fewer and fewer numbers. The one crossing the ocean, climate change, predators, nets, estuaries, overheated rivers, handling, captures, catch-and-release, photos, and all the human pressure we keep imposing on it. That fish isn’t asking for more attention. It’s asking for a real chance to reach the spawning grounds. It’s asking us to stop treating it as an opportunity—for events, for content, for personal performance. It’s asking us to finally recognize the urgency. Because when runs collapse, every salmon matters. Every spawner matters. Every fish that reaches the river should be seen as a chance to reproduce—not another opportunity to keep business as usual. The question is no longer how to preserve the angler’s experience. The real question is: how much longer are we willing to sacrifice the salmon to preserve the illusion that everything can continue as before? We have to choose. Do we protect a culture that refuses to change? Or do we finally protect what makes that culture possible? Because one day, it will be too late to pretend we understood.

We are witnessing the worst salmon run in modern Québec history. Not just a dip. Not a cycle. A collapse. The numbers are unequivocal: 11 rivers below 100 salmon, including 7 under 50. At that point, we’re no longer talking about fishing. We’re talking about survival. And meanwhile… nothing. No strong measures. No clear signal. No plan to guarantee something essential: that every salmon returning can spawn. We keep making marginal adjustments, talking about catch-and-release, publishing, consulting. But we are not acting at the scale of the crisis. And yet, the reality is brutal, mathematical, impossible to ignore. The smolt return rate is below 0.2%. Zero point two. Concretely, that means that out of 1,000 smolts leaving the river, two salmon come back—two. In this context, every spawner becomes critical. Every salmon that successfully reproduces becomes essential. It’s a simple and unforgiving numbers game. 0.2% of 1,000,000 gives 2,000 returns. 0.2% of 1,000 gives 2 returns. Same rate. Completely different outcome. The entire survival of salmon now depends on how many breeders we manage to protect today. And that’s exactly where the system is failing. We continue to manage as if we were in times of abundance. As if 100 salmon were still an acceptable baseline. As if catch-and-release were a sufficient solution, regardless of context. But in rivers where only 30, 40, or 50 fish remain, every handling, every stress, every mortality—even marginal—becomes disproportionate. The real question is no longer biological. It’s political. Where is the line? 100 salmon? 50? 40? 30? 20? 10? 0? At what point will the ministry and the Fédération québécoise pour le saumon atlantique decide that enough is enough? Because right now, everything points to a “run until fail” management approach. We let it decline. We hope for a rebound. We buy time. But in the meantime, every salmon lost is one less chance to reproduce. And with a return rate of 0.2%, those losses cannot be recovered. We like to talk about the ocean. Greenland. Climate change. Factors beyond our control. All of that is real. But it is not an excuse for inaction here. Because here, in Québec, we do have control. We can close rivers. We can protect thermal refuges. We can impose strict rules. We can ensure that every salmon reaches its spawning grounds. But that takes courage. It means stopping the attempt to please everyone. It means making unpopular but necessary decisions. Today, the only logical strategy is clear: maximize the reproduction of what remains. Not tomorrow. Now. Because at 0.2%, we no longer have the luxury of waiting. And in trying to find the line… we may already be crossing it.

On April 25, 2026, a few weeks before the opening of salmon fishing in Quebec, one reality is clear: we are moving forward blindly. After two of the worst fish runs ever recorded, no structural measures have been announced. No emergency plan, no major adaptations, no clear signal that the exceptional situation our rivers are experiencing is truly understood in its full gravity. The data, however, is undeniable. In 2024 and 2025, 11 Quebec rivers recorded average runs of fewer than 100 salmon , including 7 with fewer than 50 individuals . These figures do not describe a temporary decline. They illustrate a localized, but very real, collapse. Despite this, the current response is essentially limited to catch and release. A relevant measure, certainly, but largely insufficient in a context where every fish counts. No comprehensive strategy exists to regulate this practice or limit its impacts. Even more worrying, several known and documented levers remain unused. There is still no official closure protocol based on water temperature, even though the 21°C threshold is recognized as critical for Atlantic salmon . The protection of thermal refuges, these areas essential for summer survival, is still not being systematically addressed. As for rivers in critical condition, no specific measures appear to be planned to adapt or suspend fishing pressure. In this context, a fundamental question becomes difficult to avoid: what are we trying to maintain? The resource itself, or the activity that depends on it? Because at this level of fragility, there is no longer any margin for error. Every handling, every fight, every release becomes an additional source of stress for fish already at the limit of their physiological capacity. Best practices should therefore be established as minimum standards, not recommendations. Keeping salmon in the water at all times, prohibiting unnecessary handling, and the widespread use of single barbless hooks should be non-negotiable. Similarly, automatic closures based on environmental conditions should be integrated into management, rather than left to the discretion of the moment. The situation of rivers with fewer than 100 salmon also deserves careful consideration. At this level, the focus is no longer on optimizing an activity, but on preserving a population. When the salmon run drops below 50 individuals, the very rationale for maintaining a fishing season should be questioned. It would be too simplistic to point the finger at fishermen. That's not the case. However, in a context of reduced abundance, the individual impact of each intervention becomes significant. This change of scale necessitates an adaptation of behaviors, but above all, of upstream decisions. What is striking today is not only the lack of strong measures, but the repetition of a reactive management model. Communications follow one another, reports pile up, but structural actions are slow to materialize. Meanwhile, the biological indicators continue to deteriorate. Atlantic salmon doesn't lack visibility. It lacks decisions. The question now is simple: are we ready to adjust our practices to protect the resource, or will we continue to maintain the status quo until some rivers are nothing but memories? No one blames the fishermen. But we must be realistic: in a context of abundance, the individual impact is diluted. In a context of collapse, it is amplified. What is shocking today is not just the inaction. It is this persistent impression that: 👉 We're waiting for the situation to resolve itself 👉 We are managing in the short term to maintain business activity 👉 We recycle the same speeches, year after year Enough with the podcasts. Enough with the pointless updates. Enough with the copy-pasting. Atlantic salmon don't need communication. They need decisions . Difficult decisions. Unpopular decisions. But necessary decisions. Because ultimately, the real question is no longer scientific. It's moral. Are we ready to slow down today...so as not to lose tomorrow? Or are we going to keep opening seasons...while everything collapses?

Want to be frank? The 2025 report has just been released…and the results are troubling. In Quebec, in 2024 and 2025, 11 rivers saw their salmon populations fall below 100, and of those 11, 7 had fewer than 50. (Average salmon run for 2024 and 2025) These are no longer populations. They are the last survivors. And yet…we continue to open the waters. We continue to fish. We continue to present ourselves as responsible managers. 2025 Review: Salmon Farming in Quebec 2025 But there's worse. There's no real protocol during heat waves. No clear and systematic protection of thermal refuges. We know that warm water kills. We know that heat stress weakens fish. We know that releasing them back into the water under these conditions can be fatal. And yet…we let it happen. Why? Because closing means losing revenue. Because slowing down activity weakens the model. Because this system depends directly on fishing for its survival. We're no longer talking about protecting salmon. We're talking about protecting an economic model. And that's a political choice. We talk about raising awareness. We talk about best practices. We talk about individual responsibility. But meanwhile, the key decisions aren't being made. So let's ask the real question: who is more inconsistent? The fisherman who acts within the framework he is allowed to follow…or the governing bodies—the federation and the ministry—that maintain this framework even when all the indicators are flashing red? Because at this point, it's no longer a lack of information. The 2025 assessment is clear. That's a lack of courage. As long as salmon management is financed through its exploitation, there will be a conflict of interest. And as long as we refuse to close, even in critical situations, we will not be able to conserve. We will orchestrate the disappearance.

The collapse of Atlantic salmon runs in Quebec — which reached a historic and alarming low in 2024 and 2025 — highlights a deep systemic flaw: the paradox of funding its own protection. The dilemma: financing monitoring through exploitation Quebec’s salmon management model falls under the authority of the Ministère de l’Environnement, de la Lutte contre les changements climatiques, de la Faune et des Parcs and relies on a structure in which the Fédération québécoise pour le saumon atlantique (FQSA), ZECs, and river associations depend heavily on revenue generated by fishing activity. This model creates a troubling paradox: the protection of a declining species depends, in part, on the exploitation of that same resource. In the context of a historic collapse in salmon runs, this dependence weakens managers’ ability to make decisions based strictly on conservation, without economic pressure tied to maintaining fishing activity. This mechanism creates a fundamental paradox: The more fishing days are sold, the more revenue increases. But the more pressure placed on salmon, the more fragile the resource becomes. In other words, protecting salmon often means reducing the very revenues used to fund its monitoring. This dependence places conservation stakeholders in a difficult position: Restricting fishing to protect the resource leads directly to lower revenue. Maintaining fishing activity to finance protection increases pressure on an already vulnerable species. This structural conflict of interest weakens the system’s ability to make swift, strict decisions when conditions demand it. Financial dependence that delays necessary closures The operating budgets of these organizations — including river wardens’ salaries, fish counting operations, pool monitoring, and biological assessments — come largely from the sale of: daily fishing packages, pre-season draws, 24-hour, 48-hour, and 72-hour access lotteries, pre-season access permits. During heat waves, low water flows, or severe drought conditions, closing a river to protect heat-stressed salmon means immediately cutting off the system’s main source of funding. This reality creates a natural reluctance to impose rapid, full, and uniform closures, even when biological conditions clearly require them. The absence of a rigorous province-wide thermal protocol While other jurisdictions — such as Newfoundland and Labrador, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia — apply automatic closures once water temperatures exceed critical thresholds, Quebec has still been slow to adopt a uniform and mandatory thermal protocol. At present, management relies mainly on: recommendations, voluntary closures, partial closures of certain pools or thermal refuges, local pilot projects. This “case-by-case” approach is widely criticized because it leaves room for: local economic pressure, inconsistent decisions between rivers, delays incompatible with biological urgency. The system remains too reactive, even though the situation now demands preventive management based on clear scientific thresholds. The illusion of catch-and-release during extreme heat Even though catch-and-release became mandatory in most rivers in 2025, this measure remains insufficient when rivers reach critical temperatures. Simple disturbance can become deadly During hot periods, salmon seek refuge in cold-water pools to reduce physiological stress. Simply: casting a fly over a holding pool, walking near thermal refuges, repeatedly passing fly lines and leaders, can be enough to: force fish out of their refuges, increase their energy expenditure, expose them to warmer, less oxygenated water. Thermal stress that compromises survival and reproduction When a salmon is hooked, fought, or disturbed in water above 20°C: its metabolism accelerates, recovery becomes much slower, post-release survival drops sharply. Even when the fish survives, the impacts can be significant: overall weakening, reduced spawning success, lower egg viability, increased risk of delayed mortality. As a result, during heat waves, catch-and-release does not guarantee meaningful protection for the fish. Reform is now urgent In light of the collapse observed over recent years, more and more stakeholders are calling for structural reform of Quebec’s salmon management model. Most frequently proposed solutions 1. Decouple conservation funding from fishing revenue Conservation funding should come from stable, independent public sources: recurring government funding, climate monitoring funds, support for river wardens. This would allow closure decisions to be made without immediate economic pressure. 2. Adopt a mandatory thermal protocol Implement: uniform temperature thresholds, automatic closures, real-time monitoring accessible to the public. 3. Strengthen transparency and governance Establish: public accountability, better dissemination of biological data, decision-making mechanisms less influenced by local revenue. Atlantic salmon is not just a fishing resource: it is an indicator of the health of our rivers and a symbol of Quebec’s natural heritage. As long as its protection remains financially dependent on its exploitation, Quebec will remain trapped in a contradictory system where ecological urgency collides with the economic survival of the model. Today, the question is no longer whether this system must be reformed, but how much time is left before it is too late.

With recent optimistic announcements from some salmon conservation organizations regarding the salmon's return, a return to the "status quo" risks forcing the opening of the harvest after a crisis that has lasted for more than three years and could present specific biological risks to the salmon resource. Short term (1 to 2 years): Immediate reduction in spawning success: Each salmon harvested is one less spawner. If the 2026 run is good but the harvest is too aggressive, the number of eggs laid in the gravel could fall below the conservation threshold (the minimum needed to replace the current generation). Pressure on large spawners: If the harvest targets large salmon (often females carrying thousands of eggs), the impact on the river's reproductive capacity is immediate. Long term (5 years and more): Weakening of future cycles: Atlantic salmon return to their natal river after an average of five years. An overharvest in 2026 creates a generational gap that won't become apparent until 2031, potentially plunging the river back into a downward spiral. Loss of genetic diversity: Artificially reducing the population through fishing diminishes genetic diversity. This makes the species less resilient to climate change and disease. A cautious approach is needed to ensure a sustainable recovery rather than a short-lived success. Here's why complementary protection measures are often more effective than simply catch and release. 1. Catch and Release + Single Barbless Hook Using a single barbless hook drastically reduces handling time and damage to vital tissues. Combined with mandatory catch and release, this ensures that almost all fish migrating upstream in 2026 will actually be able to spawn in the fall. 2. Heat Protocol (Thermal Closures) This is a critical measure. When the water temperature exceeds 20°C, salmon accumulate lactic acid and suffer from oxygen deprivation. Even a perfect release can become fatal due to heat stress. The advantage: We protect the fish during their periods of maximum vulnerability without banning fishing all summer. 3. Protecting thermal refuges Pools fed by cold water sources are vital "gas stations" where salmon congregate to survive heat waves. Banning fishing specifically in these areas (often called "sanctuaries") prevents harassing fish already in survival mode, thus preserving their energy for reproduction. Why is this "better" in the long run? Rather than viewing salmon as a resource to be consumed immediately (harvested), this strategy treats them as a biological asset that is allowed to flourish. In 2026, if the number of bees increases, these measures would maximize egg laying, creating a safety "cushion" for the more difficult years that may follow.

A heat protocol based on a target temperature of 20°C is an emergency measure designed to reduce physiological stress and mortality in salmon when the water becomes too warm. Here's why this measure is beneficial for the species' survival: 1. Prevention of Heat Stress Atlantic salmon are cold-water fish. Their metabolism accelerates as water temperatures rise: At 20°C and above: Salmon enter a state of stress. They draw on their energy reserves (necessary for reproduction) simply to regulate their body temperature. The benefit: By ceasing fishing at this temperature, we avoid adding physical stress (the fight at the end of the line) to an already weakened organism. 2. Reduced Mortality After Release Even if an angler carefully releases their salmon (catch and release), the chances of survival drop drastically in warm water: Lack of Oxygen: Warm water contains less dissolved oxygen. A salmon that has just exerted itself intensely to free itself struggles to recover and can die of asphyxiation or exhaustion a few hours later. The Benefit: The protocol ensures that salmon that have successfully reached the cold pools are not disturbed, thus maximizing the number of spawners available for the spawning season. 3. Protection of "Thermal Refuges" When the river temperature exceeds 20°C, salmon congregate, if possible, in cooler areas (stream mouths, underground springs). Vulnerability: In these pockets of cold water, the fish are highly concentrated and become easy targets for fishing or poaching. The benefit: The protocol protects these critical aggregation areas, allowing salmon to pass undisturbed through the heatwave. In summary: Strictly enforcing the 20°C threshold acts as a temporary shield. It's an adaptive management approach: the river is closed when the risk of mortality is too high, and reopened as soon as the water cools (often below 18°C ​​for 48 hours).

Protecting thermal refuges has become a priority for the survival of Atlantic salmon, a cold-water species particularly vulnerable to rising temperatures due to climate change. These refuges are areas located in rivers where the water remains significantly colder, often situated at the mouths of small streams fed by underground springs. Why protect these areas? Preventing heat stress: When water temperatures exceed 20°C, salmon experience intense physiological stress that can weaken their immune system and, in extreme cases, cause death. Survival during summer heat waves: During periods of high heat and low water levels, salmon congregate in large numbers in these pockets of cool water to regulate their temperature and conserve energy. Preserving reproductive capacity: Salmon experiencing less heat stress retain the energy needed to complete their upstream migration and ensure successful reproduction once they reach the spawning grounds. Regulation of sport fishing: Managers, except for Quebec, often close access to fishing near these refuges to avoid adding additional stress (fishing pressure) to fish already weakened by the heat.

Contact Chantal https://www.facebook.com/chantal.dompierre.2025

The Urgency of Letting Our Rivers Breathe: Why Suspend Subsistence Salmon Fishing? Atlantic salmon, once the king of our rivers, are currently facing an unprecedented crisis. While subsistence fishing is a right and a deeply rooted tradition, the current biological situation necessitates a forced pause to prevent irreversible extinction. Here's why this precautionary measure has become essential: 1. The Survival Threshold Has Been Reached In many rivers, the number of salmon returning from the ocean to spawn has fallen below the "conservation threshold." This means there are no longer enough fish to replace the previous generation. At this stage, every catch, however small, directly reduces the river's capacity to regenerate. Banning fishing ensures that each spawner can lay its eggs. 2. The "Thermal Stress" Factor With climate change, river water is reaching temperatures that are lethal for salmon (often exceeding 20°C). In water that is too warm, salmon are in survival mode and quickly become exhausted. Simply handling them or stressing them through an attempt to catch them can cause their death, even if they are released. Closing the fishery allows the fish to rest in the cool pools, where they await the rain. 3. A sharp decline in salmon runs The most recent scientific data (2024-2025) shows a drastic decrease in salmon returns. The causes are numerous (pollution, lack of food at sea, migratory barriers), but the result is the same: there is no longer a surplus to be caught. Continuing to harvest fish from a rapidly declining stock accelerates the local extinction of some populations. 4. Protecting the future of communities Banning subsistence fishing is a difficult measure, but it is an investment in the future. If the species becomes extinct, the right to fish and the tradition disappear with it forever. By stopping fishing pressure today, we give stocks a chance to rebuild so that future generations can once again exercise this right in a healthy river. Prudence is not about denying a right, but about protecting the resource that makes that right possible. Faced with collapsing populations, the silence of fishing rods is sometimes the only way to ensure that the call of the salmon will continue to echo in our rivers.

La Campagnol Variation (Jocelyn LeBlanc), the Campagnol pool is a retention pool on the Rivière aux Rochers where salmon from the MacDonald River use as a thermal refuge from mid-July to the end of August. The MacDonald River is an important tributary of the Rivière aux Rochers. MacDonald salmon use the cold water of Walker Lake because the water in the MacDonald River becomes very warm in July and August. Hooks -Hook Daiichi 2161 #1, 2, 4, 6, 8 Tag - Ferret Gold Holographic Tinsel Tail- Golden pheasant - Natural golden pheasant Rib - Côte gold oval tinsel - Gold oval tinsel Body - Body Fluor wool hot green Wing - Artic Fox tail yellow, chartreuse and black wings - yellow, chartreuse and black fox tail and Flashabou UV Collar - Black heron, lime green and black hen - Black dyed heron and lime green and black hen saddle hackle Cheek - Cheek Jungle Cock

The Overtaker Hook- Hooks, Mustad Signature DL70UBLN Double Size 4 Thread- Thread, Uni-8/0 Fire Orange Tag, Small Gold Oval Tinsel Tail- Golden Pheasant tippet tail Butt-Bout, Uni-Floss Hot Green and UNI-Stretch Chinese Red Body, STS Trilobal dubbing green highlander Wing- Wings, Black Fox & UV Flashabou Eyes-Eyes, Jungle Cock Originator - Creation: Davie McPhail Third-party editor: Jocelyn LeBlanc

Creation & Tier - Jocelyn LeBlanc Chartreuse Bugger Hook - Patridge Salar Gold #5 Tag - Holographic Mylar Gold with UV resin Tail- Black Marabou, 4 pieces of flashabou UV & Krystal Flash FLUO Chartreuse Rib - Gold oval tinsel with black hackle Body - Chartreuse yellow chenille Wings- Jungle Cock Long Collar - Black chicken saddle Head - Plain floche hot red.

La Fergy Step by Step Fly Tying The Fergy is a creation of Mr. John Edward who was a guide on the Moisie River at the height of the Ouapatec River, this fly was dedicated for his great friend and mentor Mr. Roland Fergusson of Sept Iles QC. It was my three friends from Sept Iles Karl Hartland, Réjean Langlois and Jean-Marie Henry who introduced me to this awesome fly. Created John Edward Tier - Jocelyn LeBlanc Hook - Daiichi 2051 Single # 3 Tag - Holographic Mylar Silver Tail- Golden pheasant crest natural with blue doctor hackle on top Butt - Bright Yellow Floss ( UV RESIN) Rib - Gold oval tinsel with palmered black hen hackle Body - Black Uni Stretch Wing- Blue turkey quill section with black fox tail fur and light blue Krystal flash Collar - Black hen hackle Eyes- Jungle cock

One of North Shore best fly for brook trout and sea run brook trout, this olive wolly bugger (Black Hackle) is a local favorite for early season brook trout and all season round the only thing that chances is its size. Lake fishermen sware by this fly. Oh no I revealed a secret fly sorry about that. Tier - Jocelyn LeBlanc Hook - Hameçon - Mustad 9672 Tail- Queue - Black marabou with few strands of flashabou UV Rib- Côte - Gold oval tinsel with palmered black hen hackle Body- Corps - Olive chenille Collar - Collier- Black hen hackle Head - Black

Guinea feathers are extremely versatile, have a flexible stem and can therefore be used as hackles to tie several sizes of wet flies, different types of streamers, sea trout and salmon flies. Additionally, they will also create lively movement and a tempting appearance when their soft fibers are used as tails or antennas. In short: Thanks to their contrasting colors and soft fibers, these high-quality guinea fowl feathers can be used for all kinds of flies – for example salmon or sea trout flies! Available in 7 gr or 100 gr bag From C$5.00 and delivery only $5 in Canada or $10 in the USA https://www.shedaplumes.com/product-page/poule-guin%C3%A9e-cousue-naturel-et-teint

Tanuki - Finn Raccoon has been a "Scandinavian secret" for many years and is one of the best tube and hook fly materials a fly tyer can own. It is incredibly versatile and is now widely used for tying flies for salmon, sea trout, steelhead, bass and pike. When the guard hairs and undercoat are tied together, this makes for one of the best fly tying materials available today. The hairs attach with minimal bulk, are very mobile and have an undulating action in the water. The guard hairs average 50 to 100 mm in length and are straighter and less flexible than the undercoat. The undercoat alone is very soft and fluffy and moves like a marabou in water. With an average length of 25 to 75 mm, it is excellent as material for wings and tails on streamers and trout flies or as lining on flies. Being very absorbent, it helps your fly sink faster. $8.99 delivery only $5 to Canada or $10 to USA https://www.shedaplumes.com/category/tanuki-finn-raccoon Monteur Chantal Dompierre Monteur Victor Corbeil

Polar bear hair is a common material used in fly tying for fly fishing. Its soft, dense and translucent appearance makes it a popular choice for making wings for salmon flies, swimming fish imitations and other aquatic insects. Very short, short, medium, long and very long polar bear. $3.99 - $7.99 https://www.shedaplumes.com/category/ours

The Schmoon Variation (Jocelyn LeBlanc), the Schmmon River is an important tributary of the Rochers River upstream of Walker Lake. Hooks -Hook Daiichi 2161 #1, 2, 4, 6, 8 Tag - Ferret Gold Holographic Tinsel Tail- Hen tail dyed orange Krystal flash Pearl orange Rib - Rib copper wire - copper wire Body - Silver body flashy dubbing silver with homemade flash Wing - Black Fox tail wings - black fox tail and Flashabou UV Collar - Black Dyed Heron and Green Hen Saddle Hackle Cheek - Cheek Jungle Cock

The Pasteur Variation (Jocelyn LeBlanc), the Pasteur River as well as the lake of the same name is an important tributary of the Aux Rochers River. Hooks -Hook Daiichi 2161 #1, 2, 4, 6, 8 Tag - Ferret Gold Holographic Tinsel Tail- Rump of natural golden and Krystal flash Pearl orange Rib - Rib copper wire - copper wire Bodysuit - Flashy orange body dubbing with homemade flash Wing - Silver Fox tail wings - silver fox tail and Flashabou UV Collar - Black Dyed Heron and Black Hen Saddle Hackle Cheek - Cheek Jungle Cock