The Atlantic Salmon Myth: Does Farming More Make It More Endangered? | Book Recommendation

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In China, the Atlantic salmon is better known by a simpler name: salmon. Last week, we published an article on salmon farming titled Is Salmon Truly “Free”?. So, what exactly is the plight of wild salmon today? We may well have forgotten what genuine wild salmon are, and they are virtually impossible to source commercially. This is not because their price is out of reach for the average person, but because they are vanishing from the Earth at a startling pace. Fifty years ago, one in two salmon making the journey out into the Atlantic would successfully complete their migration; today, that ratio has fallen to just 3%. In Vanishing Foods, veteran BBC journalist Dan Saladino documents this very extinction in progress. As we comfort ourselves that aquaculture has “liberated” wild salmon and granted more people “salmon freedom”, the 400 million salmon confined in farms along the Norwegian coast now outnumber every wild salmon worldwide combined. Meanwhile, those true wild fish—capable of leaping waterfalls, crossing oceans, and undertaking thousands of kilometres of life-defining journeys—are teetering on the brink of disappearance……

◉ Dan Saladino with the English edition dust jacket of *Vanishing Foods*. The following excerpt is taken from the ‘Wild Atlantic Salmon’ chapter. We thank the publisher, Beiye Books, for granting permission.

The Atlantic salmon is a creature of paradox. On the one hand, it has become one of the rarest inhabitants of the ocean: few among us are fortunate enough to encounter it (or even taste it). Yet, aquaculture has simultaneously made it one of the most ubiquitous animals in the world. In just a few decades, fish farming has transformed this once-exclusive delicacy, savoured by only a privileged few, into a global commodity and the most widely traded fish on the planet. Perhaps, ten millennia after humanity domesticated cattle, pigs, and sheep, we have led this fish down the very same path: through intensive farming, the species thrives in captivity (within submerged sea cages) while vanishing in the wild. Nevertheless, the fate of wild Atlantic salmon demands our attention. This fish stands as an unparalleled natural indicator of our planet’s health. It possesses the remarkable ability to transition independently from freshwater to marine environments, and then back again. This means that, throughout its life cycle, it journeys from inland rivers to the ocean, only to return to its natal streams. Through the salmon, we can observe the cumulative impact of a host of human activities (from deforestation and dam construction to pollution, overfishing, and climate change) on the natural world. The sharp decline of this species sounds an alarm bell for the transformations underway on land and sea. If we wish to save the salmon, we must halt our destruction of the planet—it really is that simple.

The salmon is an elusive creature, and its life cycle is nothing short of miraculous. A single female will lay around 8,000 eggs among the river gravels, after which males compete to fertilise them. Eight weeks later, the alevins hatch from the golden eggs, relying on the nutrients stored in their yolk sacs for the following 30 days. Once they develop from alevins into fry, they leave the gravel-bedded shallows to venture into deeper, more perilous waters. In these deeper reaches, a salmon must survive for up to three years, finding sufficient food to grow to 15 centimetres and build enough muscle to finally embark on its epic journey to the sea. The fish must endure thousands of miles of open-ocean swimming to reach the rich feeding grounds of the North Atlantic. Then, if it is fortunate enough to evade predators and storms, it will, two or three years later, swim upstream against the current, surmount every obstacle in its path, and return to the gravel-strewn stream where it first hatched. It will spawn in this very place, which marks both its beginning and its end. Of those initial 8,000 eggs, only two will complete the entire life cycle described above. It is one of nature’s most astonishing feats.

◉ A juvenile Atlantic salmon in Skater Creek, Washington State. Photo credit: Roger Tabor/USFWS

To leave their freshwater river homes and venture into the salty ocean, salmon undergo a physical transformation known as anadromous migration. Millions of years ago, as the oceans cooled and became richer in food, salmon evolved this biological trait. This process allows the fish to ‘silver’; their bodies become more streamlined, their skin turns a reflective silver, helping them camouflage better in the open sea.In rivers, salmon are highly territorial and aggressive; but as they swim into deeper waters and join larger schools, their temperament grows milder. In the lower stretches of the river, closer to the sea, salmon take one final sample of the water’s chemical signature before leaving. Scientists believe it is this ‘imprint’ that guides them home after thousands of miles in the ocean.At the estuary, where fresh and salt water meet, salmon adapt their gills and breathing patterns to cope with the new environment, swimming near the surface. There, they feed on larger prey such as crustaceans, squid, small fish, and krill. Yet, while they hunt, they too become prey. Their predators include cormorants, sharks, sea lions, seals, and, of course, humans.

This remarkable feat of the salmon population unfolds across the North Atlantic, spanning over 2,000 rivers and tributaries in Europe and North America. Atlantic salmon can be found as far north as Norway, south to Spain and Portugal, east to Russia, and west to Canada. Yet, regardless of their origins, Atlantic salmon eventually converge on the waters off the west coast of Greenland and the Faroe Islands to feed. Here, every salmon grows to twice its size and puts on fat reserves to withstand the harsh North Atlantic cold and fuel their migratory journey.

Many aspects of the salmon’s life cycle belong in what Rachel Carson called the ‘ultimate mystery’. We do not truly understand how salmon navigate their migration (perhaps a combination of memory, scent, celestial cues, and the Earth’s magnetic field), nor do we know how they determine when to return. All we know is that they will return at any cost. Near Clooneen in County Donegal, Northern Ireland, along the 40-mile-long River Finn, salmon face what appears to be an insurmountable obstacle. Water cascades down a 10-foot waterfall, crashing violently against hard rock.Salmon swim up from the plunge pool below and attempt leap after leap. Some flick their tails to vault off the water or rock face in a series of bounds, while others launch themselves completely airborne. At this stage, migrating salmon are still burning through their energy reserves. Once back in the river, they cease feeding entirely, no matter whether it takes days, weeks, or months to reach their birthplace. Yet, having spent years hunting in the ocean, they are in peak physical condition. For the predators waiting along the riverbanks—both human and animal—the migrating salmon are therefore at their prime.

The poet Seamus Heaney has loved fly-fishing since childhood, angling for salmon east of Cloonagh Falls in County Donegal. He recalls seeing their silver-scaled bodies, blue-green fins, and torpedo-shaped heads as they burst through the water, straining to reach their natal waters. Heaney’s poem “To a Salmon” was published in 1969.At that time, the wild Atlantic salmon population stood at around ten million. Today, that number has fallen to fewer than two million. By contrast, another species—the Pacific pink salmon (which shares an evolutionary lineage dating back 20 million years)—still returns to its birth rivers in tens of millions.This is precisely why the dramatic decline of the Atlantic salmon is so alarming. Fifty years ago, half of every million salmon leaving rivers for the Atlantic would successfully complete their migration, spawn in their home waters, and fulfil their life cycle. Today, that figure stands at just 30,000. Despite global efforts to understand what lies behind this crisis, we still lack a clear answer as to why Atlantic salmon have suffered such a steep decline. For any species, when numbers drop this low, the future becomes precarious. Some marine scientists believe that the wild Atlantic salmon could genuinely face extinction.

This May, the author of this book was interviewed by Foodthink at the Third International Conference on Agricultural Biodiversity.

The primary feeding grounds for Atlantic salmon lie off the west coast of Greenland, where thousands of fish from various rivers congregate. Today, these waters have become a target for industrial fishing. In the 1970s, Norway’s large-scale fleets could catch between two and three million salmon annually—more than the current global salmon population. It was not until the 1980s that an international agreement was finally reached to halt the unchecked plunder. Today, most commercial salmon fishing has been banned. In Ireland, only a handful of traditionally licensed fishers are permitted to fish in the estuaries. In Scotland, the wider UK, and Norway, driftnet fishing has also been drastically reduced. Yet, salmon numbers continue to decline. Our rivers and seas are facing serious problems.

Ken Whelan, Ireland’s foremost salmon scientist, points to shifting ocean temperatures as a major contributing factor. He says, “In parts of the salmon’s feeding grounds, the plankton has already disappeared.” Meanwhile, new species are appearing along Ireland’s south coast. “Warming waters have drawn in the Caribbean triggerfish and the Mediterranean sea bream, which now compete with salmon for food. The ocean is changing, and salmon are among the victims.”

And so the paradox emerges. Although wild salmon stocks are falling, the total Atlantic salmon population is actually rising rapidly. It is estimated that at any given time, around 400 million salmon are held within fish pens along the Norwegian coast alone. The number of salmon in just ten of these massive pens now exceeds the total wild salmon population across every river, stream, and the Atlantic Ocean combined. As wild numbers dwindle, farmed salmon thrive. Some believe the two trends are linked.

◉ This chart displays the global production (in tonnes) of the four main farmed salmonid species, shown from top to bottom: Atlantic salmon, rainbow trout, pink salmon, and Chinook salmon. Atlantic salmon farming has expanded dramatically since the 1980s, surging from under 100,000 tonnes to over two million tonnes by 2010. Image source: Wikipedia; Data source: FAO Species Factsheet.

Most farmed salmon worldwide comes from a handful of Norwegian fish farming companies, including Lerøy and Salmar, with Mowi being the largest. Mowi operates farms across Norwegian waters, as well as in the Faroe Islands, Scotland, Canada, and Ireland, producing a volume that accounts for nearly a quarter of global consumption. The company’s global operations have even extended Atlantic salmon farming to the coasts of Chile, south of the equator. I was fortunate enough to tour Mowi’s farming operations from start to finish along Scotland’s west coast. At the hatchery, I saw newly hatched fry, their eyes still tightly encased in their egg sacs. Mowi runs 25 fish farms in Scotland. At one of them, I watched hundreds of thousands of salmon circling endlessly within the sea cages, with one occasionally breaking the surface to leap into the air. “I entered this industry as an environmentalist,” said Ian Roberts, a manager at Mowi, as he showed me around the farm, “I wanted to stop fishermen from harvesting the few wild salmon remaining in the sea, so I offered them an alternative.” This perspective took shape as, over recent decades, aquaculture has increasingly met the world’s growing demand for fish. More than half of the seafood humans consume now comes from aquaculture.

◉ A modern salmon farm. Image source: Mowi
Inland along Scotland’s west coast sits a farming facility owned by Mowi. There, salmon spend the first seven months of their lives in a vast, warehouse-like hatchery. Situated within the Lochailort Industrial Estate, the facility exercises round-the-clock control and monitoring over every minute aspect of the fish’s environment. Provided stress levels remain low, the salmon maintain a rapid growth rate. From the top of a metal staircase, I watched 150,000 fish swimming clockwise in a vast tank of treated water. To trigger the physiological changes required for their transition from freshwater to marine environments, the facility manipulates light cues. Over several weeks, lighting is kept dim to simulate a ‘false winter’; it then gradually brightens, mimicking the arrival of spring. In response, the fish reverse their swimming direction, while their gills and skin undergo transformation. Yet at Lochailort, rather than swimming downstream to the ocean, the fish are guided through large-diameter pipes directly into tanker lorries. All one sees is a swarm of frantic dark shapes thrashing against the suction of the pumps; even the strongest swimmers are held within the clear pipework for barely a second. A converted whaler transports the fish from shore to their next destination: a series of sea cages anchored in the loch. After spending eighteen months in the sea, they are harvested and processed. Half of the catch ends up on UK supermarket shelves, while the remainder is shipped overseas; today, farmed salmon ranks among Britain’s most valuable food exports. One such sea cage I visited sits in Loch Linnhe, near Fort William. There, Mowi harvests 1,600 tonnes of salmon each year—a mere fraction of the company’s 500,000-tonne global output. Viewed from the shore, the installations resemble a cluster of small islands dotting the centre of the loch. It was only when I drew close in a small boat that I spotted the metal posts bracing the cages beneath the surface, along with the overhead netting designed to keep out predatory birds. Every few minutes, a rhythmic rustling emanates from the wooden deck beside the pens, sounding much like pebbles being scuffed across a beach. It is an automated feeder dispensing protein-rich pellets into the water. Twenty-two feet below the surface, sixteen submerged cages house half a million fish feeding below. Following current trends, wild fish stocks are set to dwindle further, while aquaculture continues to expand. A farming method originating in China has since gone global. Within rice-paddy ecosystems, fish naturally suppress insect pests, while their waste serves as fertiliser for the grain. The industry underwent a fundamental shift in the 1970s. Recognising the decline of wild stocks, Norwegian brothers Svein and Øivind Grøtvold launched an experiment in enclosed salmon farming. Near their home waters off the island of Hitra, they placed wild Atlantic salmon into a floating net pen moored in a fjord. The trial proved highly successful; the brothers sold the catch and turned a profit. Local fishermen soon began to emulate their method. However, they gradually realised that yields were being bottlenecked by the fish themselves. Wild salmon simply grow too slowly and fail to convert feed into fat and muscle efficiently. What aquaculturists needed was the marine equivalent of ‘tomorrow’s chicken’ or the ‘White Pig’. It was at this juncture that Norwegian animal breeders stepped in.

To tackle the problem, they drew on two centuries of aquaculture history. The principles laid down by Robert Bakewell in the eighteenth century remain sound. In the 1940s, Jay Lush, an American scientist who revolutionised the US meat-processing industry, further developed Bakewell’s theories. Norwegian fish farmers adapted ideas from both men, altering the genetics of wild salmon within a matter of years. By selecting individuals with specific traits from three different rivers, they bred a strain that grew faster and ate less than wild fish. The first generation grew 15 per cent faster than earlier strains; a decade later, that figure had doubled. The fish these farmers raised were undoubtedly salmon, yet genetically they could be considered an entirely new variety. Some scientists argue the gap between farmed salmon and wild salmon (*Salmo salar*) is so vast that the new strain should be classified as the domesticated salmon (*Salmo domesticus*)

For Norwegian fish farmers and the world at large, this represented a significant breakthrough. Much like the wheat and rice of the ‘Green Revolution’ that filled hungry bellies, and the livestock innovations that delivered cheaper, more plentiful meat, aquaculture promised to bring salmon to a wider public. They believed this new strain would offer a novel source of protein while simultaneously helping to address overfishing. In truth, however, the trade-offs proved far more intricate than imagined.

I visited this Mowi fish farm on Loch Lomond in February 2020. Just two weeks earlier, one of the company’s fish pens off the coast of Kinnaird had been ripped apart. The netting could not withstand the fury of Storm Brendan, allowing 74,000 farmed salmon to breach their enclosure and swim out to sea. Relocating pens to more remote, stronger-current waters solved a problem endemic to sheltered inshore waters: in the salmon farming industry, waste generated inside the pens—uneaten feed, faeces, and chemicals—can have a detrimental impact on the marine life and bay ecosystems directly beneath them. Conversely, the bay ecosystem can decimate the fish within the pens. Dense algal blooms threaten salmon by damaging their gills and stripping the water of oxygen, which can easily cost thousands of fish their lives.

The industry contends with another equally pressing issue: sea lice. In the wild, these parasitic crustaceans, roughly half a centimetre long, have co-evolved with salmon. While sea-resident fish may host a few lice, the parasites cannot survive in fresh water and detach as salmon migrate upstream. Yet pens crammed with tens of thousands of fish offer sea lice an open invitation. Once introduced, they breed at an alarming rate. The lice crawl across the salmon’s skin, hunting for the softest tissue around the face and gills to feed upon. Heavy infestations prove fatal. Meanwhile, these “farmed” sea lice disperse more broadly, endangering wild salmon populations. To compound matters, escaped farmed salmon pose a threat to the long-term welfare of wild Atlantic salmon.

In the wild, the genetic difference between two salmon from separate rivers is greater than that between two people. Over countless generations, each population has adapted to its home waters: the river’s length and gradient, the abundance of food, the water temperature, and even the unique chemical signatures of the current. Each river’s salmon strain is finely attuned to local conditions, carrying distinct advantages and vulnerabilities, and following a specialised life cycle. Underpinning all of this is the migratory instinct of wild salmon—their innate ability to navigate back to their natal waters to breed.

Farmed salmon tell a different story. Their breeding programmes are built around a tightly curated set of genes with only two goals: to eat voraciously and grow rapidly. They lack the genetic toolkit needed to survive in the wild, rendering them incapable of completing the epic journey from river to ocean and back again. Should hundreds of thousands of farmed salmon escape their pens, they could easily interbreed with wild fish. Farmed females might survive to lay eggs, which are then fertilised in freshwater rivers. Experts worry that this genetic introgression—the mixing of wild and farmed salmon DNA—could gradually dilute wild populations, making them more vulnerable to disease and predation.

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This July, Foodthink, in partnership with Beiyue Books (publisher of *Eating to Extinction*), hosted a series of three book clubs. Together with readers, we explored the book alongside Sichuan-based ecological smallholder farmers featured in its pages, as well as activists championing food diversity, scholars, and third-sector practitioners. We shared stories and case studies on preserving food diversity from both China and around the world. Click below to read the full transcripts and interviews:Are we really eating a wider variety of foods than in the past? Foraging for wild vegetables in the Netherlands

Discovering the world through the footsteps of chickens

Fruits of memory: From diversity to uniformity, what we lose is more than just flavour

Cultivating disappearing glutinous rice across the Sichuan hills

*Eating to Extinction*

Original title: Eating to Extinction:

The World’s Rarest Foods and Why We Need To Save Them

Author: Dan Saladino (UK)

Book Planning: Beiyue Books

Publisher: Wenhui Publishing House

Translator: Gao Yubing

Publication Date: November 2023

Awards & Accolades Recommended by *The New York Times* and named a *The Sunday Times* Book of the Year. Winner of the Whitbread Award for Nature and Travel Writing—the UK’s highest honour in the genre—as well as the James Beard Award (often dubbed the “Oscars of the food world”), the Guild of Food Writers Book Award, the Fortnum & Mason Book Award, and the Gregory Award.

About the Author

Dan Saladino is a BBC journalist and broadcaster. He produces in-depth features for *The Food Programme*, specialising in food and agriculture. Over the past decade, he has visited more than 30 countries and territories, documenting the stories of over 40 foods on the brink of extinction. He was previously named one of London’s most influential people of the year.

About the Translator

Gao Yubing holds a BA in Economics from the University of Cambridge, UK, and an MA in Journalism and Communication from the University of Hong Kong. She has previously worked in financial institutions such as JPMorgan Chase and has translated titles including *The Birth of the Magic Ball*, *In the Currents of Whisky and Ink*, and *52 Blues*.