Whose Stream is it Anyway? What the small, slippery minnows of Alberta’s streams mean for our future

May 4, 2026

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• Native Coldwater Fish
• Rivers
• WLA Archive

Wildlands Advocate article by Sara Heerema, AWA Conservation Outreach Specialist

Read the PDF version here.

 

When I was a kid, I was fixated on the intricate process of fly-tying. I would go to my favourite store at the time, which had an entire room dedicated to the craft, and spend hours poring over the varying sets of dyed feathers, shiny tinsel, rabbit fur, and beaded eyes, debating what type of lure would work the best in my local streams and stocked ponds. For some Albertans, fishing is one of the first opportunities to engage in a fully hands-on way with our aquatic ecosystems. Upon reflection, I enjoyed the adjacent aspects of fishing the most: crafting the flies, browsing the aisles of any fishing section, and sitting quietly beside a river and watching nature pass by. Still, toddler-sized, bright pink Barbie rods might have more to do with conservation than we realize.

Often, we think more about our impacts on fish than the other way around. But fish have been actively shaping and changing human cultures for as long as we’ve coexisted on this planet, including here in Alberta. Because of their essential role as a food source for us, and especially for the first peoples who have lived in the area since time immemorial, humans have grown and changed alongside fish for many thousands of years. Archaeological records, alongside Indigenous histories, show our delicate and essential relationship with fish throughout the years. Stone hooks for lake trout and pike were common in northern Alberta, and knives and tools over 4,000 years old have been identified with trout and walleye blood on them. Fish make an appearance in every form of art: in music, painting, sculpting, dancing, and jewelry. In any number of other forms of expression, you can easily find something inspired by our aquatic relations. Many hours of craftsmanship are spent fishing, making fishing equipment, preparing and eating fish, creating art, learning and talking about fish, and teaching these skills to the younger generation. These hours are multiplied over seemingly endless generations and years, making fish an essential component of our everyday lives.

Unfortunately, this relationship with fish is not always a healthy one here in Alberta. Entering the conservation world, I saw many colleagues and friends with native trout stickers slapped on their water bottles and laptop covers. I discovered that these were Alberta’s “big three”: bull trout, Athabasca rainbow trout, and westslope cutthroat trout. They have had their fair share of time in Alberta’s headlines, since all three are at risk in the province, are listed as either threatened or endangered under the federal Species at Risk Act (SARA), and have declining populations due to impacts from industry, land-use changes, and climate change. You have probably heard that our native trout populations are at risk from the many negative and cumulative impacts occurring in our local water systems.

What aren’t talked about quite as often are our other fish species at risk in Alberta. Although less charismatic, these species are no less intrinsically valuable. They contribute their own benefits to our aquatic ecosystems and are, unfortunately, also at high risk in the province. Many of the same issues that are impacting our native trout are also causing declines in the more secretive aquatic species of Alberta.

The Environment and Protected Areas (EPA) Ministry of the Alberta government notes that “among all vertebrate groups, fish have the largest increase in the number of species ranked at risk between 2000 and 2020.” As of 2024, 10 of our 52 native Alberta fish species are listed as threatened under Alberta’s Wildlife Act, with one additional species, the Arctic grayling, listed with a detailed status as special concern. Even though this is already one fifth of our fish species, the story doesn’t end there. Of those 52, another 10 are either not assessed or have undetermined status in Alberta, leaving their fate up to speculation. Six more species are known to be either sensitive or possibly at risk.

Now, you could be asking yourself, “Why do I care if a minnow is at risk in the province? Surely no one will miss it?”

Last summer, I was fortunate to join Freshwater Conservation Canada and Friends of Fish Creek Provincial Park Society for a couple of days of fish surveys to explore the species that inhabit the cool depths of Fish Creek in Calgary. I pulled up the buckets of small minnows and was introduced to species I had never heard of before: the longnose dace, lake chub, trout perch, brook stickleback, and three types of suckers (longnose, white, and plains). A few rainbow trout and brown trout were also captured, alongside two invasive Prussian carp. There’s something very striking about holding up a plastic measuring trough to the sunlight and looking into small dark eyes that glimmer in the light. The more you pay attention to what surrounds you, the more intertwined with it you become.

All of our native fish are important to the ability of their water systems to thrive and maintain proper ecological function. Both predator and prey fish constitute important parts of the food web, maintaining populations above and below them on the energy chain. Many are essential in keeping our various insect populations balanced, doing their part to rescue us from the fate of bug bites covering our bodies after an evening paddle.

Think about the small plains (previously known as mountain) sucker. They’re easy to miss with their sandy coloured bodies and tendency to hide away near the rocky bottoms of their native streams. They have two distinct populations in Alberta: those that live in the Saskatchewan-Nelson River basin, and those in the Milk River basin. Both populations are at risk, with those in the Saskatchewan-Nelson River basin currently being considered for listing on SARA, and those in the Milk River basin already listed. Using their specialized sucker mouths, they skim algae off the rocks, keeping it from blooming out of control. They are part of an energy chain that links aquatic primary producers (like algae, the lowest level of the food chain) to the higher-level consumers (e.g., larger fish, otters, hawks and eagles). The suckers rely heavily on intact riparian habitat (habitat along the river that connects the aquatic ecosystem to the land) because without it, the extra silt that flows into river systems prevents their eggs from receiving the oxygen they need for development.

Or, what have you heard in the news lately about Alberta’s only native catfish, the stonecat? Probably not much, despite the fact that they are in the process of being listed as “Threatened” under the Alberta Wildlife Act. Just like the feisty housecat, stonecats have a sharp defence mechanism. Their secret lies in their pectoral fin, equipped with a poison gland that will deliver a sharp sting to anyone who dares to interrupt their stream-bottom solace. Using the four pairs of barbels decorating their face, they scour the bottoms of streams for aquatic invertebrates, small fish and eggs, and sometimes bits of aquatic plants. The equilibrium of their habitat depends partially on these stonecats continuing to live, eat, and die in their water system as they contribute to food webs and nutrient cycling. Their home range is restricted to the Milk River, which often experiences intense periods of drought that can fragment and disturb habitat, which is exacerbated by water withdrawals and canal diversions from the watershed.

Protecting fish species is not an isolated requirement. Many fish species, especially our salmonid varieties, such as our “big three” trout, are indicator species. They need specific conditions in order to survive and reproduce, which means that declines in their populations can reveal changes to the overall health of a watershed early on. If we pay attention, this is an easy and free warning system for us to better understand when we are approaching or are past the limits of what our water systems can handle. As fisheries biologist Matt Coombs says, “If we really want indicators of overall watershed health that reflect the effects of everything we humans are doing on the landscape, the strength of our native salmonid populations might be the best indicator to use.” If we do not preserve watershed health, eventually even our introduced sport fish will no longer be able to survive.  As with most aspects of our ecosystems, protecting fish also helps protect their habitat, a positive feedback loop that can easily tumble into a negative one.

Threats to our native fish are both cumulative and expanding. Many of the major issues that AWA has been combating are directly related to the survival of native fish species and the health of their associated watersheds. Industries like forestry, coal mining, oil and gas extraction, and development near water systems often result in reduced water quality, damaged habitat for fish and other aquatic species, and alterations to streamflow. Land-use activities can accelerate runoff of harmful contaminants such as agrochemicals or sediment into local water systems. Rising temperatures, lower water levels, and nutrient inputs can cause eutrophication and lowered oxygen levels, killing off native species while allowing invasives to thrive. Intensive rains and prolonged droughts, which are becoming both more frequent and more intense with climate change, significantly impact water quality and quantity.

These impacts sound distant — that is, until we remember that what happens to our watersheds also happens to us.

Keeping our water systems cold, clean, connected, and complex is not just to protect trout, other aquatic species, or the aquatic ecosystem as a whole. The 4 C’s are also essential for protecting our own lives and well-being here in Alberta. With the convenience of an exceptional water filtration and delivery system in our major cities (although we all feel the fragility of this system when something like a water main burst happens), it’s easy to forget that we, too, are dependent on these water systems to survive.

Nine companies have current coal leases in the headwaters of the Athabasca River, the only place where the endangered Athabasca rainbow trout lives. All forms of coal mining release harmful substances like heavy metals into nearby water systems. This is not just their water to pollute; this is the drinking water for residents of communities like Fort McMurray and Hinton. Planned clearcuts in the Upper Highwood in Kananaskis will destroy critical habitat for bull trout and westslope cutthroat trout. Increased runoff and degradation of riparian areas in the Highwood will reduce water quality downstream. This water is part of the South Saskatchewan River basin, which contains all 13 of the province’s irrigation districts, making up a large and important economic sector that depends on clean water.

As Coombs says, “Native salmonids represent a lot of things we depend on, like clean water draining from watersheds that aren’t degraded and natural and wide open spaces that support clean air and allow us to escape from our busy lives and connect with the land we live on.” We are entangled with our native fish in a complex sociocultural and ecological relationship. If we continue to act without consideration of our finned neighbours, we place our own well-being in a grave beside theirs.