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Bronx River Diary
Final Expedition
Good Night and Good Luck
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Bronx River
©WCS/J.Maher
| Diary of an Alewife
Bronx River, 2006
September 28
6:53 p.m.
Getting kind of lonely out here now that most of my alewife buddies have left for the ocean. But I’m still here, jumping for dinner, looking for that one last buggy meal before heading out myself…
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single fish.
Last March, when we re-introduced the alewives, I never imagined that I would spend so many evenings looking for their offspring. I’m glad, however, that I had this time with the river. I learned some of its rhythms. I met a few of its inhabitants and got to know their patterns. Not bad for an urbanite.
But the alewives are leaving us now, beginning what could easily be a thousand mile journey as they migrate out of the Bronx River. The last remaining fish are now making their way down to Long Island Sound and out to the Atlantic Ocean. They will remain there for at least three years, until they are ready to retrace their tracks and return to the Bronx to lay their eggs.
This will be quite a challenge for a ten-inch fish. In addition, it will represent a new chapter in a complex human journey, as well. Hundreds of years ago, early European settlers dammed the Bronx River, eliminating any native alewife run and impacting those people who had depended on the fish for sustenance. Over the years, as the city grew, the river became entangled in an industrial and transportation maze, losing much of its habitat to development and pollution.
But the past few decades have brought great changes to the river. It is now much healthier than what it once was. Water quality has improved. Habitat has been restored. Animals have returned. And now I can say that I have been part of the process.
When I was a juvenile myself, my parents would bring me to the Bronx for a variety of reasons. On one trip, I remember looking at the river, wondering how anything so “wild” could flow through such a crowded place. This seemingly strange juxtaposition of natural and urban no longer surprises me, now that I’ve spent so much time with both—a frequent observation, by the way, among people with similar experiences. So the popping surveys cost me a few trips to the gym. (How often do I go, anyway?) I’ve answered my childhood question—Yes, the Bronx is a city, but it’s also a river. And right in the city’s heart, a natural system waits to be explored.
7:08 p.m.
Sundown. This marks the end of the popping surveys. If more fish are introduced next spring, we could be back on the river again to track the progress of next year’s juveniles. Until then, I wish our alewives luck. May the year ahead bring safe passage to them as they begin this new stage of reclaiming their ancestral Bronx River home.
—Marla
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