Jennifer Molidor

The wild and scenic Klamath River (also called Ishkêesh by the Karuk, Koke by the Klamath, and Hehlkeek ‘We-Roy by the Yurok)¹ pours into the Pacific Ocean from a tidal estuary in the northernmost part of California. The river winds its way through 250 miles of wilderness, marshes, and forests. It is the third-largest salmon and steelhead-producing² river on the contiguous West Coast and a lifeblood for tribal food sovereignty. So, last fall, when the largest dam removal project in history freed hundreds of miles of wild Klamath river, a magnificent transformation took place: the salmon would return. 

Wild salmon provide sustenance for ecosystems along the river. From black bears to wild birds and aquatic life, the presence of salmon feeds nature, bringing nutrients to the soil and helping bring vitality and stream health to mighty watersheds like the Klamath. Salmon are also an important cultural part of traditional Indigenous foodways and ceremony in the Pacific Northwest. The annual return of migrating salmon is celebrated in first-salmon ceremonies and highlights the relationships between all living beings. Tribes like the Karuk traditionally consumed salmon at every meal and consider the species to be sacred. Saving the salmon was the driving force behind the tribal led movement for the removal of the four hydroelectric dams threatening the river’s health. The life cycle of salmon requires the free flow of rivers. Coho salmon (Oncorhynchus kisutch) were listed under the federal Endangered Species Act in 1997, and California Coastal Chinook salmon (Oncorhynchus tshawytscha) were listed in 1999. For nearly a century, the river was in drastic decline due to the dams clogging its path. In 2002, 70,000 salmon died when water beneath the Iron Gate Dam was diverted to agribusiness instead of letting it flow downstream. Soon after the 2024 dam removals, Chinook salmon returned to the upper Klamath. Coho salmon returned next. 

Tribal communities have been in deep ecological relationships with Pacific salmon for thousands of years. A traditional fishing ground called Ishi Pishi Falls lies near the confluence of the Klamath River with the Salmon River. Stewarded by the Karuk, it is one of the most beautiful areas of wild California and is the epitome of the relationship between people and place, salmon and ecosystem. Farther down river, coastal redwoods watch over the culmination of the river’s long journey, on land co-stewarded by the Yurok and the unique Redwood National and State Parks. Canyon walls are covered in pine, sage and juniper with basalt outcrops. This land is a living ecosystem and the nourishment provided by wild populations of salmon is key to its health.

For this reason, attacking ecosystems and food sources has been a historic strategy to destabilize tribal food sovereignty. In the film Gather³ a group of environmental activists from the Yurok Nation are trying to save the Klamath River using Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK)⁴ rooted in beliefs about the connections between the people, the river, animals, and plants. Hours from the “convenience” of modern supermarkets, the river is a home and a vital, living foodway. But many people that eat salmon consume mass-produced farmed varieties that pollute the environment and threaten wild species. Society has become disconnected from the source of its food, the health of rivers and coastlines, and the delicate balance needed in nature for healthy foodways. As a result, food systems are threatened – and every creature who depends on them. 

Salmon struggle to reproduce with changing stream quality and warmer weather.  On a global scale, the way food is grown is the primary driver of biodiversity loss, threatening 24,000 of the 28,000 species at risk of extinction⁵, at a higher rate today than in the past 10 million years. Perching on the precipice of the loss of nature can bring deep cultural and personal grief. Research on ecological grief has assessed this pain rooted in physical ecological losses including ways of life, landscapes, species and ecosystems that are also embedded in studies of bereavement.⁶ 

Like many, I feel this powerful sense of loss and bereavement as I watch the wild California that I’ve called home all my life facing the ravages of drought, climate intensified wildfires, agricultural pollution and livestock degradation. As I worry about the future of our food and the health of waterways, I see the landscapes of grief through the eyes of my son. Recently I took my son to a festival celebrating endangered steelhead, salmon and other wildlife. With his small hands stuffed into his pants’ pockets, he watched in awe as a steelhead was dissected that had perished in the spawning grounds. Steelhead are born as trout in freshwater streams and rivers. Like salmon (both are in the Oncorhynchus genus), steelhead migrate to the ocean — and return. Their journey, like the river itself, is the story of adaptation, resilience, and renewal. And it’s one that brings sustenance to all who live along the river. 

Restoring the Klamath River has turned a heartbreaking biodiversity crisis into a rewilding of habitats and nature’s food systems. But it’s also reminded us that protecting wildlife and the health of wild places is an undeniable part of protecting healthy food systems and cultures too. In recent years large-scale and historic land sharing efforts in California feature an Indigenous-driven restoration of ecosystems, like the Klamath River. The undamming of the Klamath wouldn’t have happened without tribal stewards and collective action to protect nature. It’s a story to hold dear in a world where the politics of the day drive us further from environmental well-being. We listen to the river, we feed, we eat, we give back and we are part of this cycle too.

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1. Karuk, Klamath and Yurok are tribes that live along the Klamath River, along with Hoopa and Shasta tribes. The Klamath River runs from Oregon south to the California coast. ↩︎
2. Steelhead (sometimes known as steelhead trout) are a common form of Rainbow Trout native to cold-water tributaries of the Pacific basin in Northeast Asia and North America. Like other trout and salmon that migrate to the sea, steelhead spawn in freshwater,  migrate to the ocean to forage and return as adults return to their natal streams. Robert J. Behnke, Trout and Salmon of North America (New York: The Free Press, 2020), 76. ↩︎
3. Sanjay Rawal, Gather. Documentary. Illumine Studios, 2020. ↩︎
4. Traditional Ecological Knowledge is a worldview and on-going accumulation of knowledge and belief about relationships between living beings in a specific ecosystem acquired by Indigenous people over hundreds or thousands of years. This includes the relationships between people, plants, animals, nature, and activities such as hunting, fishing, agriculture and forestry. National Park Service, “Overview,” Traditional Ecological Knowledge, accessed May 5, 2025, https://www.nps.gov/subjects/tek/description.htm. ↩︎
5. Tim Benton et al., Food System Impacts on Biodiversity Loss: Three Levers for Food System Transformation in Support of Nature (London: Chatham House, 2021), https://www.chathamhouse.org/sites/default/files/2021-02/2021-02-03-food-system-biodiversity-loss-benton-et-al_0.pdf. ↩︎
6. Hannah Comtesse, Verena Ertl, Sophie Hengst, Rita Rosner, and Geert Smid, “Ecological Grief as a Response to Environmental Change: A Mental Health Risk or Functional Response?” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 18, no. 2 (2021): 734, https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7830022/. ↩︎

Biography

Jennifer Molidor is a senior campaigner with the Center for Biological Diversity’s sustainable food initiatives, including the Take Extinction Off Your Plate campaign that address the impact of our food systems on wildlife and the planet. Before joining the Center in 2015, she worked on a number of food, wildlife and environmental campaigns; she holds a Ph.D. from the University of Notre Dame and taught for many years as a professor at Kansas State University and San Francisco State University. She has authored a number of editorials and papers on the environmental impacts of beef.