By Craig Springer
U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service

It's hotter than a firecracker and it doesn't seem like trout country in the Gila -- too hot here in southwest New Mexico. The canyon is deep, parts of the creek bottom dark and shaded, save for a spattering of yellow sunlight that slips through the ponderosa pines and brittle streamside alders that keep the creek cool.

Then it happens. A Gila trout sips the offering off the surface and at once knows it's been outwitted. That's the reward of persistence and determination: first, to arrive at this wild place, and second, to try to think like a fish.

It's a scene that's played out time and again, but only in the wild places of my mind.

The Gila trout is off-limits to fishing, and has been since before I was born. It's an endangered species, the only endangered trout in the U.S. Not since 1958 have anglers been allowed to fish for these copper trout, denizens of the Gila River headwaters.

But persistence and determination pay off in conservation, too. Biologists from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the New Mexico and Arizona game and fish departments, and the Forest Service have worked diligently over the years to improve this trout's lot in life. The Gila trout could soon be down-listed to "threatened," and with that will come the real opportunity to go fish.

The Gila trout is native only to the upper reaches of the Gila River in New Mexico and Verde River in Arizona. Biologists estimate that the trout originally occupied about 600 miles of streams. At its absolute worst condition, Gila trout retreated to about 20 stream miles, confined by habitat loss and competition with non-native fishes.

The good news is, today they occupy 60 miles, and scientists reason that that's enough for the improved conservation status.
Fishing will be a reward, the dividends of conservation. And dividends will be paid elsewhere, if two other native trouts are any example.

Greenback cutthroat trout, native to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, once appeared near extinction. Aggressive conservation efforts by the USFWS, Colorado Division of Wildlife, and National Park Service moved the species' status from just three small endangered populations in the early 1970s, to a threatened species, with a serious following of ardent anglers. This cutthroat trout provides a premier destination fishery, the kind you read about in magazines.

The Apache trout in eastern Arizona faced a similar fortune. Today, anglers travel from well beyond the Southwest to fish for these lemon-yellow trout. The White Mountain Apache Tribe, on whose land the Apache trout occurs, and neighboring towns benefit from expenditures made by visiting anglers. The money spent by people who enjoy catching native trout in native habitats puts people to work.

As with both of these rare trout, I'm convinced the same will happen with Gila trout. Anglers will buy essential gear; they'll spend their money in hotels; they'll eat at restaurants and buy gas. Some will pay for guide services, and a new market segment will open up for these important locally owned businesses. Money changing hands in the pursuit of a copper-colored trout will feed families.

The numbers bear this out, and the numbers are staggering. According to the USFWS's 2001 national survey of fishing, hunting and wildlife-associated recreation, angling reels in big bucks in New Mexico. Some 314,000 people bought fishing licenses in New Mexico, laying down $175 million in their pursuits.

More than $90 million went toward travel, food, and lodging. Another $77 million went for rods and reels, waders and boats. Magazine subscriptions, membership dues, land leases and fees accounted for another $8 million. Across the nation, 34 million
licensed anglers spent nearly $36 billion in 2001 ? about $1,000 per angler.

Fishing is big business. And when the Gila trout moves from endangered to threatened, I expect the benefits will move through the economy, and be felt in cash registers and pocket books, and even county treasuries.

Angling's great apostle, Izaak Walton, wrote three centuries ago that "angling will prove to be so pleasant that it will prove to be like virtue – a reward unto itself."

He was right. I've caught greenback cutthroat and Apache trout, and I hope to be among the many that will angle for Gila trout when the time comes. And though I might purposely labor for aloneness in the experience, the rewards will be shared in legal tender.