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An Entirely Synthetic Fish: How Rainbow Trout Beguiled America and Overran the World

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I know little about fish or fishing, but I know fisherman like to go for rainbow trout, a good fish to have at the end of your line or to have in your frying pan. The rainbow trout is found all over our nation, and stands for conservation, and unspoiled waters, and the bounty of nature when nature is not trammeled by humans. Except that it does not really stand for any of these things. Maybe fisherman know all about this already, but for me, the revelations in _An Entirely Synthetic Fish: How Rainbow Trout Beguiled America and Overran the World_ (Yale University Press) were a surprise. The author Anders Halverson is a journalist, and has a doctorate in ecology, and likes to fish. He has hunted all through historical documents of government and conservation organizations, and interviewed plenty of researchers and others who have helped make the rainbow trout ubiquitous, or who are now trying to reduce its range. This is not just a fish book. It is a carefully written history of how we think about our natural resources, and about the paradoxes and dangers of trying to control the natural world.

Rainbow trout are native to waters feeding into the Pacific, in an arc that extends up from northern Mexico, though the northeastern states, and over to far eastern Russia. That doesn't matter anymore. They have been introduced to the Atlantic states, and in fact to every state. The only reason they aren't in Antarctica is that there is a lack of trout streams there; they are now on every other continent. A century ago, American fishing gentlemen were convinced that standing by a stream with rod and line was going to maintain our citizens' virility and make our democracy stronger, but fish like the eastern brook trout were not able to withstand the pollution and higher temperatures we were inflicting on our streams. These men shunned the bottom-feeding catfish. They simply needed a better trout, and the rainbow was it. The states with streams to be stocked thought this was all dandy. A recent report from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service says that if you spend a dollar on growing and stocking rainbows, you can expect thirty-two dollars back in hotel reservations, rod sales, and airplane tickets. Everyone knows (now) that if you move a species into a region in which it did not evolve, you are liable to change things in unexpected ways. Though rainbows were often imported with the idea of adding their diversity to the local fauna, they have decreased such diversity overall. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has acted intentionally to decrease the diversity so that the rainbow trout could prosper. In 1962, the service deliberately poisoned sections of the Green River in Utah and Wyoming with "piscicide" to get rid of the pesky fish that lived there naturally. There were some complaints by academics and ecologists at the time, but the chemical got dumped in the river, and the antidote that was supposed to be dumped downriver to neutralize it and keep it from heading on through National Parks properties didn't get there, and so there was even more of an ecological disaster. This was made worse as a public relations matter because three weeks later Rachel Carson's _Silent Spring_ was published, infuriating some constituents who would not let their representatives in Washington hear the last of it. There were four species of "trash fish" that were to be killed to let the rainbows in; all are now on the endangered species list.

Halverson's book, however, is not shrill about the many preposterous and presumptuous tinkerings with the environment that have been done for the sake of bringing more rainbows to our streams. There are few villains or fools in this story of the century since this unnatural fish has been taking over the world's fresh water systems. Many of the public servants profiled here, whether their decisions were good ones or not, were taking steps based on the best information they had at the time, with the intention of helping anglers, and with no prospect of making any material gain by their actions. Halverson tells many connected stories here in a convincing and fascinating book, and generally refrains from making judgments or regrets. There are inherent paradoxes anytime humans try to take control of nature. Fishermen may think that they are escaping from civilization by getting back to nature to pursue their prey, but it turns out the fish that many are pursuing are mere products of industrialization after all.

This book blew me away. Incredible storytelling, amazing history. I'll never look at trout the same way again. If you like to fish or have any interest at all in environmental history and our relationship with the natural world, this book is a must read. I'd highly recommend it.

Sometime within the past ten years or so I became interested in native fish. I have nothing against any species, I just like to see fish that are "supposed" to be in a watershed, in that watershed, not some other species occupying that water. This desire to find native species in their native range has taken my fishing buddy and me to some out-of-the-way little creeks--we're talking about places in the middle of the desert 100 miles from the nearest town. Creeks whose widths are measured in inches, not feet. But it doesn't seem to matter where we go, how far away from "civilization" we get, we still come across water stocked with non-native species. Many of these places were stocked long before motorized travel was possible. And I've wondered what possessed people to stock fish in such places.

Anders Halverson's new book, An Entirely Synthetic Fish: How Rainbow Trout Beguiled America and Overran the World, answers that question for me. In a fascinating look at the social and political maneuverings of the late nineteenth century through the present, Anders' meticulous research lays bare some interesting tidbits of the stocking policies of the United States.

One such gem is that the government was worried about the strength of the nation's men: that they had "notoriously less hardihood and endurance than the generation which preceded [their:] own" (George Perkins Marsh, congressman and diplomat from the mid-1800's). This description was given in a report by Marsh under the auspices of the Legislature of Vermont on the Artificial Propagation of Fish. He further stated that "the sports of the chase" (angling being one of them) was a way to increase the hardiness of the Americans. At this time, many waterways were already seeing a decline in fish numbers and the artificial propagation of fish was seen as a way to increase those numbers. With the urge to increase the robustness of its men, and the decline fish population the underpinnings were there for the introduction of non-native species.

Last year Eccles (from the Turning Over Small Stones blog) and I had a discussion about the terms "Fish and Game" and "Fish and Wildlife" as used in various agencies: Why were the terms "fish" and "game" separate? Shouldn't it just be Game or Wildlife, as in "Utah Game" or "US Wildlife Service" since fish are a type of game and fish are a type of wildlife? Anders informs us that by the 1870s congress formed the United States Fish Commission to help tackle the problem of declining fish stocks, thus becoming the first governmental agency involved with animal husbandry in the US. At a later time, the "game" and "wildlife" were added as the agency expanded. So, in my mind at least, this solves the mystery.

How the rainbow trout became the darling of the US Fish Commission, and just about every other angling agency in the world, is an interesting tale that Anders starts in San Francisco in 1872 with Livingston Stone looking for spawning salmon. He eventually found the McCloud River and began propagating salmon. By 1879 they were looking for a place on the McCloud to begin propagating trout as well. And they did, with astounding success.

Besides the historical ventures Anders skillfully and delightfully takes the reader on, he also dissects the biology of the stocking programs, covering the hardiness of a stock that is constantly used for breeding to whirling disease. He discusses the loss of native species and the response (or lack of it) of individual state fish and game departments, how some of them have switched from stocking to conservation.

This brings up an interesting problem that many fish and game departments need to tackle: what is their responsibility when sportsmen (who pay for licenses whose money is then possibly used to bankroll conservation and restoration instead of stocking), clamor for more catchable fish?

Through all of these topics Anders uses a reporters zeal for facts (there are approximately 475 sources listed in the bibliography) and detachment, thereby keeping an even keel on reporting the facts and not stepping on a soapbox to expound one particular side over another. Even with this professional detachment, there is a keen sense of understanding and compassion shown for the stories he tells. For, if nothing else (but there is a lot of "else"), the book is full of stories told with the storyteller's art.

The book is both a good read and provides, in some detail, a history and the resulting consequences of our attempts to manipulate nature in the form of a manufactured replacement fish for the fresh water fisheries we destroy or attempt to improve. The author is careful to provide the historic context under which decisions were made and to provide excellent notes and a bibliography. The latter contains much hard to find information and is likely worth the book price by itself. This book shoud be read by every thoughtful environmentally-concerned freshwater fisherman.

What a great read! As a freshwater fly fisher and a fish culturist that makes my living raising trout and salmon in a hatchery, I couldn't put this book down. Incredibly well researched, Anders paints a vivid, easy to read yet intriguing timeline of the environmental history of the trout and how it evolved to be, fly fishing in the 19th century, the formulation of conservation groups like Trout Unlimited, and our modern fish and game agencies both the states and US Fish and Wildlife Service. He covers topics such as how, and why, rainbows, browns, and brook trout were moved across the country (and the globe). He includes many very interesting photos that truly portray the times, such as a horse drawn cart loaded with milk cans that are filled with trout eggs standing in front of the Washington Monument still under construction; photos of the primitive hatchery incubation methods, and modified rail cars that shipped trout eggs across the nation. Anders delves further through time to the 20th century to discuss topics like the evolving views of fish and game agencies towards native and non-native fish species, the use of rotenone and the introduction and consequences of diseases like Whirling Disease. I found the author to be fair and unbiased in his reporting and summarization. This book will forever remain in my library, it is a interesting, detailed story of how trout came to be in North America. I highly recommend this read to any trout or freshwater fisher, aquaculturist, biologist, state, federal or private ambassador for fish and wildlife.

An Entirely Synthetic Fish is a good, quick read about how the rainbow trout became the symbol of sport fishing; and about how our attempts to improve our environment can lead to unexpected and unfavorable results.
Halvorsen does a very entertaining job of telling us how well meaning managers have made huge mistakes in their efforts to improve the environment. He also demonstrates well how the data often seems to support the agendas of those collecting the data.
The book, however, also makes us think about what is really "wild." Is a naturally breeding, but introduced species really "natural." But if it is not, what should we do, or should we do anything other than cast a line and enjoy the fight.

In the few months since its publication, Anders Halverson's An Entirely Synthetic Fish has capture imaginations of a wide ranging audience - from avid fly fishers to the Diane Rehm Show, and rightfully so. In An Entirely Sythetic Fish, Halvers deftly tells the tale of how well intended programs have gone utterly wrong, putting the treasures of trout anglers at risk, while simultaneously spreading the joy of trout fishing around the globe.

The story of the rainbow trout is one of tinkering, and along the way we lost some of the parts. It begins in 1872 on California's McCloud River, where Spencer Baird, Livingston Stone and the fledgling United States Fish Commission sought to restore America's dwindling fish stocks, as well as American cultural virility, through the new science of fish culture. What started in the American West quickly became a global enterprise.

The native home of the rainbow spans the Pacific Rim, from Kamchatka to Mexico. Yet, through the waves of aesthetics, politics, and sporting organizations rainbow trout now swim on every continent, save Antarctica. In exploring that journey, Halverson tells a tale that is as much environmental history as it is American political history. We learn as much about key players like Stone as we do the fish itself, and how it was been steered by cultural values and financial gain, angler preferences and ecological manipulation. As an ecologist Halverson researched an engaging story filled with depth and critical insight and told with the deft skill of an accomplished journalist.

Halverson adds a refreshing and crucial perspective to that history. If you are interested in fishing history, fish biology, environmetnal or political history or simply want to read an intriguing story of the intricate relations between humans and animals this is a must read.

Entertaining and enjoyable book! Fascinating how once the "supertanker" of government gets going the vested interests take a huge amount of effort to turn round - even if all the signals point at the idiocy of what the are doing! The biological challenges created by intorducing foreign genes are well explained - the next "pollution" frontier to be challenged.

This is an excellent book. While the research is impressive the book doesn't take on a dry academic feel. Even with a historic perspective it is current and deals with subjects such as whirling disease, genetically modified fish and endangered species. I would recommend "An Entirely Synthetic Fish" to all fishermen.

Environmental havoc that is.

This very good book is not just for anglers, ichthyologists, or other fishy folk; it's for anybody interested in environmental issues and man's interactions with nature.

Halverson tells the story (so over the top that sometimes it seems he's spinning a yarn) of the misplaced efforts to manipulate nature and "improve fisheries" through the widespread stocking of hatchery raised rainbow trout. In the 19th century fishing was seen as a means of protecting "dexterity in the arts of pursuit and destruction, courage and self-reliance". There was widespread concern that deterioration of these skills would compromise the nation's ability to "...maintain inviolate our rights and our liberties". As the author summarizes the prevailing mood at the time, "Say goodbye to recreational fishing, in other words, and say goodbye to American democracy".

Fishing at the time was threatened as a result of the wanton environmental destruction of the industrial revolution. And rather than dealing with the root causes, the government's response was aggressive stocking of rainbow trout, which were more resistant to poor water conditions than native species such as brook trout.

It's amazing to follow the chronicle of the various rationales that continued to support this practice to the present day. Also astonishing is the variety of unintended consequences of this activity, which has irretrievably altered ecosystems and eliminated native species in this country, and eventually around the world.

Halverson's style is engaging and accessible and he manages to avoid sanctimony in making his points. He approaches the whole subject with humility and a sense that the answers are not all known, and perhaps not knowable.

Hopefully a measure of humility will replace hubris as we steward the resources of our planet in the 21st century.

Highly recommended.