While out trout fishing, the intersections between fishing, biological science, political science, and social science may not be considered by many; in fact, many use the sport to distance themselves from these themes and the general chaos of the world. Tim Traver, on the other hand, delves deep into these issues in his book Lost in the Driftless: Trout Fishing on the Cultural Divide. His book recounts his academic excursion to southwest Wisconsin, to a region called the Driftless, to learn about trout fishing and the many social, biological, ecological, and political issues swirling around it. In doing so, Traver uncovers a world of divides surrounding trout fishing: urban and rural, rich and poor, destination and sustenance, flies and worms, but he ultimately seeks to reestablish the commonality that all fishers, and fish share: the earth, its water, and our need to sustain it.
Historically, fishing was a means of sustenance, of survival; ergo, the best way to catch trout, the easiest, was via worm, a living creature that fish are attracted to. However, as the world has become more urbanized and food is outsourced, the necessity of fishing as sustenance has been minimized, and in its place fishing for sport has all but taken over. As a sport, the easiest way to catch trout – a worm – is deemed too easy and mundane, and fly fishing has popularized so-called destination fishing. Compound the fly’s appeal with arguments for environmental conservation and fish mortality and catch-and-release fly fishing seems the more sustainable and favorable.
Efforts for fly fishing to dominate the fishing world have proven largely successful; today, areas allowing worm fishing and catch-and-keep fishing have dwindled, replaced by artificial flies and lures only and catch-and-release regulations. But what has been forgotten in all the lobbying for these restrictions and rules are niched groups and niched sciences, namely anglers that use worms, subsistence anglers, regional science, biology, and, ironically, best conservation practices.
With fishing regulations increasingly aiming at accommodating urban anglers, many traditional and rural anglers have begun to feel unwelcome, making trout fishing an inherently inequitable activity to those who aren’t urban, rich, white, destination fishing men. As Traver reiterates, “Regulations that segment a stream, providing for some catch-and-release fishing, can feel like a put-down, psychologically barring some from accessing the whole stream. Or constant marketing to a type of angler demographic that doesn’t include you. We all get the subtle message, who is valued and who is not”.
One of the book’s main voices, Roger Kerr, argues just this, accusing regulators of disregarding local scientific data for fishing regulations, instead appealing to those that have the time, access, and money to lobby for their own fishing experiences. And his argument holds some truth: “Wisconsin’s Driftless Area in places suffers from a mutant wild abundance, and bag limits and seasons aren’t changing to reflect that abundance-Roger wants that to change and he wants the local anglers back and able to fish a longer season that makes sense according to the seasons of rural life”. Pushback to Roger’s argument about the Driftless Area’s trout policies proves that regulations aren’t always being created for scientifically backed or equitable reasons, rather for the perceived betterment of some majority.
Traver discusses several key voices left out of the current trout access dialogue. One, which is growing, is water quality and land conservation practices that enhance natural systems. The greatest predictor of fish health and numbers is water quality, yet to fulfill angler priorities management agencies have focused on hatcheries, “…general trend in hunting and fishing that emphasizes trophy animals…” However, there is a growing understanding of the environment’s importance, and funds from the Department of Natural Resources and other organizations are starting to funnel more towards the land and water. Another oversight in policy making is using macro and micro scientific data to drive policy and progress. Data from local rivers should dictate catch limit and length, not the loudest group of advocates.
Traver noted that when polled, “89% of biologists surveyed believe that both fishing with bait and some harvests can be compatible with special regulations water,” yet policy in the Driftless doesn’t reflect that. Using biological and ecological data to support reasonable rules and regulations should supersede mobilized groups, inherently making rules more equitable. As Traver finds, “Good rule making strikes a balance. It’s a mistake to believe that one type of angler is more local than another or more entitled…” The inclusion of social scientists to inform environmental policy is vital to the land and to the balance of opinions, yet it is underutilized. Social scientists can minimalize and even avert the marginalization of whole groups of people and the underrepresentation of varying opinions. In the end, what matters most are balance, equity, and water conservation.
Opinions like Roger Kerr’s and agendas of destination anglers do not have to be diametrically opposed to each other. There is a balance between enticing destination anglers to spend big in the local economy without alienating the locals, between appropriate amounts of fly and worm or fly-only zones, and between regulations based on fish data and on politics. And each of these themes are being realized, slowly and at a local level.
Traver, despite all the challenges and dwindling numbers of the fishing community in the Driftless, believes in its future and success for a few reasons. These include its increasing intersectional popularity among white women (fisherwomen who are moms, biologists, community leaders, etc.) and the food revolution, with younger groups retracing and re-popularizing locally grown/caught food.
Finally, Traver has hope in more and better data, whether it be social, biological, or even political. These three growing trends can start to bridge those gaps between young and old, urban and rural, creating a more robust and diversified group that cares about all anglers, local policies, and the local environment. The best conservation includes, not excludes, people; it trusts and is informed by science, and it seeks to find the common ground. And the best commonality between all anglers, in fact all humans, is the earth and its resources.
