Salmon Life

Stephanie spends most days on the phone or hopping village to village in tiny airplanes, contacting leaders and sharing information about preserving the river and its salmon life. Though the tribes differ in their traditions and methods, they all have a shared interest: salmon. “They are, without a question, salmon people and are very tied to this resource, both for their nourishment and sustenance, but also for their culture, traditions, and how it structures their communities, laws, and economy,” Stephanie explains while gripping her red lifejacket, a perfect match to the cherry-colored cabin of the boat.

“The biggest thing the Fish Commission is advocating for is having a tribal fishery manager at that table with them, so you would have a state, a federal, and a tribal manager present looking at fisheries data and making those decisions together,” Stephanie says. Without a seat at the table, the Yukon tribes’ way of life is eroding. Many of the tribes attribute their changing cultures to the fact that they are losing access to salmon, a lifeline that Stephanie stresses is invaluable.

Stephanie admires the tribes’ willingness to adapt their fishing techniques depending on where they’re located on the river, and their larger sense of community in the way that each tribe only fishes certain species and certain amounts in order to ensure all tribes get the fish they need.

As she speaks, she lends a hand to a former ADFG colleague, recording data from the Department’s test fishery. Stephanie carries salmon, one by one, and lays them in perfect lines on a dock in Emmonak. She methodically documents their lengths. Their silver scales mirror a cloudy gray sky.

“In the Yukon’s subsistence economy, salmon, especially king salmon, are right in the center of the bartering network. If you were to draw a diagram—berries, oil, moose hides, dried meat, beaver, salmon—king salmon are right in the center, and everyone trades king salmon for everything else, including gas and groceries. When you take away salmon, you have to find other things to trade and barter with that aren’t as valuable, and it totally changes that network…It boils down to the connection the native people of the Yukon have salmon in all facets of their lives.”

This connection is a major reason why Stephanie is so passionate about preserving the Yukon culture. As a Brothertown enrolled Indian with Menominee descent, she has always identified as Native. However, her experience with her heritage was limited. “I didn’t grow up with a rich Native American upbringing,” Stephanie says. “Many tribes in the lower 48 lost much of their land and culture to forced assimilation. I didn’t grow up on a reservation, so it wasn’t until college that I began to seek out the stories, traditions, and knowledge of my culture from my grandmother and great-grandmother.”

“I don’t have that rich culture and history that a lot of people think of, so one of the things I like about working on the Yukon is that there is a very rich and present Native culture, and while it’s not mine, I feel very connected to it.”

Stephanie pauses and looks out at the muddy banks of the Yukon with reverence. Her new companion, a stray dog she adopted after finding outside the post office in Emmonak, breaks her concentration. She bends down and lovingly scratches him behind the ears.

“Even though I’m not Yup’ik or Athabascan, anytime I hear Native drumming or singing, it invokes this stirring feeling in me that just grabs me, and I feel that’s exactly where I need to be—working on this river with these communities and these people. I want to use the education and experience I’ve gained to help people on the Yukon, so that they don’t have the same fate as other tribes in the lower 48.”