Sebago's salmon

By DEIRDRE FLEMING, Portland Press Herald Writer

Copyright © 2005 Blethen Maine Newspapers Inc.

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	Staff photo by John Patriquin An angler paddles on the Songo River in Naples recently, searching for salmon.
	Staff photo by John Patriquin An angler trolls near the mouth of the Songo River on Sebago Lake recently, seen through trees at Sebago Lake State Park.
	Staff photo by John Patriquin "(Sebago's fishery) is coming back. Four years ago there were big salmon. Then it went downhill. Now it's coming back again." - Arthur Doughty of Westbrook
	Staff photo by John Patriquin "The salmon fishing has disappeared. There are too many togue. Maybe you're lucky if you find one stocked fish." - Stephen Sparaco of Standish
	SEBAGO LAKE'S SALMON SEBAGO, AT 28,700 acres, is Maine's second largest lake and New England's third. ITS DEEP HOLE, at more than 300 feet, is the deepest of any New England lake. ITS INDIAN NAME means "big water." SEBAGO LAKE IS believed to be one of the landlocked salmon's original watersheds. TODAY, SOME FISHERMEN say both state and illegal stockings of other species have led to the salmon's demise. THE LANDLOCKED SALMON gets its scientific name, salmo salar sebago, from the lake. To top of story

CASCO — George Warchol thinks the fishing in Sebago is getting better. But his hunch is based on anecdotal evidence.

"His son caught a salmon that was a pretty good size, 5 to 6 pounds," Warchol, of Portland, said of his fishing buddy, Arthur Doughty of Westbrook, as they prepared to launch their small powerboat.

"We've caught some pretty big togue, 16 pounds," Doughty said of he and Warchol, who are both retired. "(Sebago's fishery) is coming back. Four years ago there were big salmon. Then it went downhill. Now it's coming back again."

The hope of finding big landlocked salmon in Maine's second-largest lake - and New England's third-largest - is what keeps anglers like Doughty and Warchol returning to the lake they've loved for 30 years.

They were out on Sebago one weekday morning in early May, looking forward to the prospect of catching fish.

But others, like fishing guide Stephen Sparaco of Standish, say the lake is doomed.

"The salmon fishing has disappeared. There are too many togue. Maybe you're lucky if you find one stocked fish," said Sparaco, who believes the state should increase its stocking of salmon from 1,000 a year to at least 10,000.

Thinking back to the days when he'd guide 65 to 100 salmon fishermen in the spring, Sparaco, who last guided on the lake 13 years ago, shakes his head.

On a beautiful spring day a week ago, there were barely a dozen fishermen out near the mouth of the Songo River by 9 a.m.

"We'll never be able to bring the wild fish back," Sparaco said. "I think they're on the verge of disappearing."

Two years ago, the state increased the bag limit on togue during ice fishing season to cull its population and give the salmon a chance.

State biologist Francis Brautigam said it's helped and the salmon are coming back.

But Brautigam said the salmon need to get fatter before he'll risk adding more.

"The mean weight is up and the mean condition is up," Brautigam said. "Until last year, we'd seen a declining trend in weight and condition. It's consistent with all other data that suggests the fish are in some state of recovery. It's certainly good news."

At issue is more than one large lake, but rather the entire history of fishing in Maine.

Landlocked salmon are among the state's legendary game fish. At one time, they were believed to be found in just four drainages: the St. Croix, Union, Presumpscot and Penobscot rivers.

The silver fish with small black spots thrives best in large, deep, cold lakes and can weigh 20 pounds or more.

Sparaco said in Long Lake in St. Agatha he catches salmon weighing well over 10 pounds. But in Sebago, the lake once made famous by the game fish, a mere 5-pound salmon is notable today.

In 1988, Brautigam said, the average 3-year-old male salmon in Sebago weighed 3.5 pounds. In 2001, the same fish caught in Sebago weighed 1.7 pounds on average, he said.

He's waiting until the average 3-year-old salmon - about 2.5 pounds now - pushes the 3-pound marker again before he considers increasing the stock.

"At some point, we'll see dramatic growth rate in salmon. Once you see that, you know you're at a point where you should increase stocking," Brautigam said.

Brautigam said it's impossible to prove the fishery is inching back to where it was 25 years ago. But he said the smelt run on the Songo River this spring mirrors that of the runs in 1997 and 1998. And both the salmon and togue depend on smelt for forage.

"The key to rebuilding a quality fishery is rebuilding the abundance of salmon, and smelt is the key," Brautigam said. "The salmon are in better shape and the togue are in better shape when there are more smelt."

Since the Sebago Anglers Association started stocking smelts, Sparaco said, the smelt runs have improved in recent years. But he said there are few salmon to reap the benefits of the increased food supply.

Brautigam said right now, there is no confidence that the smelt population, while it is seemingly abundant, is at the point where it can accommodate more predators.

So if more salmon are stocked and the smelt population is spread thin, the salmon in Sebago won't grow fat.

"That simply means there is less food available for salmon management. That means the salmon program would take a hit," Brautigam said.

There are other complicating factors, including concern that the voracious northern pike has taken hold after it was introduced illegally a few years ago. For state biologists, that remains uncertain.

"They're still not out there in any significant numbers," Brautigam said.

Sparaco, who was a guide on the lake for 20 years, maintains that the salmon population is on the decline, and only increased stocking of salmon can save their numbers.

Sparaco has seen large native fish caught in Sebago. The day before he went fly fishing in his kayak on a weekday in May, he saw his friend catch a 4-pound salmon.

But with so few salmon caught, and no regulation to require catch and release, the native population will soon be gone, he said.

"This may be the last day I can catch a good salmon on the lake," he said.

Staff Writer Deirdre Fleming can be contacted at 791-6452 or at:

dfleming@pressherald.com