 the female moves over it to deposit her eggs or "roe" in batches, the male crowding close to fertilize the eggs with showers of white "milt".
Chums do not pair as definitely as most other kinds of salmon, so you may see one female with two or more males. More than one may share in fertilizing her eggs. When the task of laying and fertilizing the eggs is completed the redd is covered. This is accomplished simply by the female moving her digging upstream, so that gravel is now shifted over newly laid eggs. Eventually she will have completed a "redd" or trench, in which her eggs lie covered, then, weak and exhausted, the salmon slowly dies. But in the gravel a new generation lives to carry on the cycle of life.
You will miss much, though, if you visit Goldstream and notice only the salmon. Their spawning is only the most obvious and dramatic episode in a complicated interplay between many creatures of forest, stream, air, and sea, and the forces of nature. As you watch the salmon, look also for the speckled flanks of the sea-going Cutthroat trout that are here for a feast of roe; look, too, at the "Dippers". The small birds that teeter on the rocks between underwater forays for salmon eggs. Some gulls are after the same fare, too, whilst others greedily gorge on dead and dying salmon.
You, of course, only see a few who share your interest in the spawning fish. At night come the shy mink, raccoon, otter, and, perhaps, a bear. Bacteria in their visible billions are breaking down the tissues of the dead fish, as are the fungi. These latter you may notice as discoloured patches on fins or body. Obviously the salmon don't simply come here to spawn and die and that is the end, for all about you is a host of living things taking the energy stored in the salmon's body and recycling it via the forest or the stream back to the sea. The Indians of old, believing that the "salmon people" were immortal, returned salmon bones to the river so that they might be used again by the fish. If you think about it, this Indian philosophy held much wisdom.
Three kinds of the five Pacific salmon are here. Most people see only the Chum salmon that usually spawn in very large numbers in the main shallows of the stream. The males are a dingy grey-green, often developing reddish-purple vertical bars. The females at sexual maturity are creamy-grey with a dark mid-stripe length-wise along each side. But both may vary.
In some years Coho salmon spawn in considerable numbers in Goldstream, in other years they are scarce. They tend to be shy and secretive, often hiding beneath logs and overhanging banks, and they like restricted spawning places such as tiny tributaries, or even ditches. Both male and female Coho at maturity have dark green heads and backs and bright cherry red on their sides. The third kind of Pacific salmon seen here is the Chinook or Spring salmon, which seems to be increasing its numbers since recent stream improvements were carried out. From the bank these are noticeably larger salmon, blackish in colour with heavy black spots. Only the males have strong spawning colours, and are more purplish-black than Coho.
A fish you are unlikely to see in Goldstream during the salmon runs is the Steelhead, a sea-going rainbow trout that differs in a number of respects from the salmon. Adult Steelhead come into Goldstream, in winter, spawning there in spring. The young stay in the stream for two years before going to the sea, and the adults often survive to spawn more than once. If you observe, you can easily see that the salmon prefer to spawn in coarse gravel through which there is a constant flow of water. This is because the eggs must have a constant supply of oxygen brought to them in water. Silt or sand would smother them.
In March, with the coming of spring warmth and rains, the salmon eggs hatch into tiny "aelvins" that hide briefly in water pockets within the gravel, subsisting upon a yoke sac attached to the abdomen. Young Chums soon leave the gravel, and go to sea on spring freshets, young Coho stay in the streams for two sessions or mor