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 Lewis and Clark: Discovering Montana Natives

By Chuck Robbins

Shadowed constantly by “immence herds of buffaloe Elk deer & Antelopes…” besieged by “fortiegue, troublesome Mosquetoes, Knats, rattle Snakes, woolves, white (brown) bears” and what not, it’s easy to understand how the journalist might overlook the capture of a mere fish. But judging Lewis’ preparations for the long journey fishing ranked high on his agenda from the start: He apparently recruited Silas Goodrich as a sort of designated fisherman; requistioned “4 Groce fishing hooks” and “12 Bunches small fishing line;” later increased to 2800 assorted fishing hooks and 125 large fishing hooks and fishing lines…

In Montana Lewis described six fish species “new to the U.’ states” ostensibly for science; though I can’t help thinking at the time the fish provided more a welcome change to a pretty boring diet—essentially red meat—boiled, jerked, salted or roasted, what’s your flavor?

 Goldeye and Sauger 

 Upon reaching the confluence of the Missouri and Marias rivers, June 11, 1805, Lewis noted, “Goodrich who is remarkably fond of fishing caught several douzen fish of two different species…”

Found in rivers and reservoirs east of the Continental Divide—lower Missouri, lower Yellowstone, lower Bighorn, Milk, Powder, Poplar and Tongue rivers—goldeye remain abundant throughout. Sauger, however, are listed as a “Montana species of concern.” Decreased spawning habitat due to drought is the main culprit. Where decent numbers still exist, Fort Peck for example, sauger entertain a loyal following, are particularly prized for their willingness to bite at times when walleye play hard to get. A friend—who religiously stalks walleye up and down the Yellowstone and Missouri river drainages 11 ½ months per year, devotes two weeks in early spring before the walleye bite really cranks up to Fort Peck sauger—is a good example. Any bait or lure will catch a walleye will catch a sauger. Natural baits, such as night crawlers and minnows, artificials, lures and flies designed to mimic prey, and combinations, artificials tipped with bait are popular and produce.

Goldeye are shad like (flattened profile), armored with large, silvery scales, appear ancient, even prehistoric, perhaps more at home in salty than silty water. The first thing grabs you is that eye—bright and huge, downright hypnotic—wonderful actually. A popular game- and food fish in other regions of the country and especially in Canada goldeye are largely overlooked in Montana. Curious, considering they are abundant, run in schools, take bait, hardware or flies eagerly, when hooked fight ferociously and jump spectacularly—thus the nickname, Prairie Tarpon. Smoked goldeye are said to rival the best smoked salmon.

 The first time I went hunting goldeye, clueless, I asked around Fort Benton. Following an interesting and informative counsel—“Goldeye eat anything small and shiny, flies are deadly and the hardest part is how not to catch one”—the underlying tone being why would you want to? Naturally I couldn’t wait to get my hooks into one… Naturally I didn’t. Not a single bite, mind, despite a map scribbled on a napkin to “the guaranteed, for sure, best spot on the Missouri…Imagine! The thing my mentors failed to mention goldeye are hot weather fans—not so hot on early spring.

Westslope Cutthroat Trout

June 13, 1805 at the Great Falls of the Missouri Lewis noted:“these trout are from sixteen to twenty three inches in length, precisely resemble our mountain or speckled trout (eastern brook trout) in form and the position of their fins, but the specks on these are of a deep black instead of red or goald of those common to the U.’States…

 Is there a Montana angler out there hasn’t tangled a cutthroat? Well, in case you haven’t, cutthroats are so named for the red slashes on the lower jaws. Montana boasts two subspecies, westslope and Yellowstone. Designated State Fish, ironically both are “Montana species of concern.”

Historically westslope cutts ranged all of Montana west of the Continental Divide as well as the upper Missouri River drainage. Today, primarily due to and habitat loss and hybridization with (introduced) rainbow and/or Yellowstone cutthroat, genetically pure strains are thought to exist in less than 5% the historic range. These days the Flathead drainage, particularly the South Fork, the West Fork Bitterroot, certain tributaries of the main stem Bitterroot, Clark Fork and Kootenai rivers, as well as headwaters creeks and high country lakes within the western mountains, offer anglers the best shot at hooking a pure strain westslope. To my way of thinking, searching for pure strain cutts is as much about the territory as the trout. Casting pristine, cold, emerald pools so clear you can often count the stones ten feet down, amid spectacular, wild mountain country, abundant wildlife and wildflower encounters; toss in native trout, wild and handsome, more often than not treat dry flies like candy… Really, how could it get much better?  

 Northern sucker (longnose sucker)

August 3, 1805, in the Jefferson River west of Whitehall Lewis wrote—“this evening I made a few of the men construct a sein of willow brush which we hawled and caught a large number of fine trout a kind of mullet about 16 Inhes long which I had not seen before…

Okay so far… But upon describing the mullet he concludes, “it is by no means as good as the trout.” Well maybe, though I submit the aversion might be more a matter of poor timing…or, heaven forbid, a poor cook?

 In our house the belief was lacking a fair share spring-run sucker meat, well you could pretty much write off prospects in the upcoming year. Pap orchestrated the operations, the catching and the cooking, which began as soon as the river was ice free; some years late February, more often early March. Pap liked his sucker roe sautéed in bacon grease and sucker meat deep-fried in lard—so be it. The fried roe was divvied up on hot dog rolls, topped with raw onions and home-canned hot peppers and just a touch of Pap’s “special hot mustard”—believe me that first bite took the idea of hot and spicy to a whole new level.  Meantime the meat was boiled until flaked easily from the bones; crumpled in egg and flour and Pap’s “secret conguterments,” pressed into cakes then deep-fried until golden brown. How good? Well, as Pap would say, wonder what the rich folk are dinin’ tonight?

 According to FWP statistics longnose suckers are one of Montana’s most frequently caught fish; also among the most widespread, found in all three major drainages, from mountain streams to prairie reservoirs. Suckers are bottom feeders. More grazer than predator they eat most anything fits in the mouth. In other words a variety of baits or flies will work so long as you present whatever on the bottom; though a wiggly red worm or night crawler is tough to beat. Suckers rarely hangout in fast water, deep, slow pools are best.

 Arctic Grayling

August 22, 1805 near the confluence of Horse Prairie Creek and the Beaverhead River, the site of present day Clark Canyon Reservoir, Lewis noted: “late in the evening I made the men form a brush drag, and with it in about 2 hours they caught 528 very good fish, most of them large trout, among them I know for the first time saw ten or a douzen of a white species of trout…

Originally fluvial (river dwelling) Arctic grayling ranged throughout the upper Missouri drainage above Great Falls. Today are restricted to the Big Hole River, the decline due to habitat degradation, introduction of non-native salmonids, climatic change, and exploitation by anglers. To a fault grayling are gullible. Fred Hirschy, 80-something, a life-long valley rancher recalls, “when I was a kid, you could put two, three hooks on a line and catch that many grayling.” I’ve caught doubles, never triples, largely, I think, for lack of hooks. I caught my first Montana grayling not far from the Hirschy Ranch, though not quite as long ago as Fred. It ate a dry fly but, since mountain whitefish were coming to net with uncommon frequency that day, wasn’t aware until about to release it—then that sail-like dorsal fin spread itself and… Wow! Now this pretty neat. Each one since evokes similar thinking and I never tire of catching them. Clients apparently feel the same, and despite that most these days are on the low side of 12 inches, netting one usually brings more “atta boys” than all but the fattest trout.

 Fluvial grayling are also a “Montana species of concern”—in reality, barely hanging on. An especially precarious situation since the Big Hole is the last stand for  wild, river-dwelling grayling in the entire Lower 48. True, there are recovery efforts underway: Planting grayling in other rivers once supported them. And federal funds have allowed participating Big Hole farmers and ranchers to turn back irrigation water to help maintain minimum flows. The hope is to protect and enhance what remains, add to the self-sustaining population base and avoid listing. Bottom line, the jury is still out. You can still fish for Big Hole grayling but please use discretion, barbless hooks, handle with care and by all means release quickly.

 Mountain Sucker

While the Corps continued to catch and describe fish species “new to the U.’States,” most notably bull trout, five species salmon—coho, sockeye, pink, chum and Chinook—steelhead, white and pallid sturgeon, all the way to Pacific it was not until returning home, July 16, 1806, east of Livingston (Yellowstone River) Clark described the last in Montana: “one of the men brought me a fish of a species I am unacquainted: it was 8 inches long formed like a trout. It’s mouth was placed like that of a Sturgeon a red streak passed down each Side from the gills to the tail…”

 Of the six, the mountain sucker is the most obscure and least known to the average Montana angler—so far as I know I have never seen one. A friend, an FWP fisheries technician for over 20 years, who annually samples southwest Montana rivers says, “we see them occasionally, always small, say 6 inches or so, and always in headwaters environments.” To put things in perspective the Montana record longnose sucker weighed in about 3 ¼ pounds, the record mountain sucker tipped the scales just shy of 2 ounces!

One final thought: Throughout the process created this article one question kept popping up: Where’s the whitey, aka mountain whitefish, forever the bane of Montana trout anglers—some anyway? Lewis’ entry July 21, 1805 near the mouth of Pryor’s Creek (Beaver Creek today) is as close as any of the journalists came to actually describing a mountain whitefish is  “also caught a fish of a white colour on the belly and sides and of a bluish cast on the back which had been accedentally wounded by a setting pole.    it had a long pointed mouth which opened somewhat like the shad…”  It seems likely and most experts agree the fish was indeed the ubiquitous mountain whitefish but for whatever reasons Lewis never did really label it as such?