From the Flathead Beacon

Where Science Helps Shape Environmental Policy

Established in 1899, the biological station along Montana's Flathead Lake is one of oldest and largest in nation. Here, policy is molded, ecosystems are altered.

By Myers Reece, Flathead Beacon, 4-30-10

	Research Scientist Tyler Tappenbeck prepares to pour water samples from a Van Dorn bottle taken out of Flathead Lake from the Armed Forces Memorial Bridge in Polson into glass and plastic containers. The water samples will be analyzed at the Flathead Lake Biological Station in Yellow Bay. - Lido Vizzutti/Flathead Beacon

YELLOW BAY – Dr. Jack Stanford recalls when a short fishing trip on Flathead Lake rendered a bucketful of kokanee salmon. On some days, he could look out his window and see the shores lined with dead fish, casualties of the spawn.

Today, the salmon are virtually gone and bull trout are considered threatened, a dual decline that has illuminated tensions between the public and wildlife officials, and shaped fish management on the lake for decades. And perhaps nobody has studied the repercussions of this dramatic environmental alteration as closely as Stanford and his wife Dr. Bonnie Ellis.

The introduction of mysis shrimp into Northwest Montana waters in the 1960s led to the well-known – and much-maligned in some circles – rise of lake trout in Flathead Lake in the 1980s, but Stanford said wildlife officials can’t be blamed for using the science of the day.

Research Scientist Tyler Tappenbeck reads ground water measurements being taken by a Hydrolab placed in a weir on Roy’s Creek near the Flathead Lake Biological Station in Yellow Bay.

The shrimp were introduced to lakes all over the west, in hopes of spurring kokanee populations, Stanford said. But they wreaked havoc on Flathead Lake’s habitat, competing for zooplankton with the kokanees and providing a key food source for the lake trout. For the first time since each species was introduced to Flathead Lake in the early 1900s, the balance of power began to favor lake trout.

“They wanted to provide fishing and sporting opportunities in as widespread of a way as possible,” Stanford said, explaining that kokanees were a beloved sport fish. “They didn’t know it would turn out like it did.”

Stanford, the longtime director of the University of Montana’s Flathead Lake Biological Station at Yellow Bay, has observed the lake’s changes with both the eye of a scientist and the nostalgia of a man who has lived on the lake’s shores for nearly 40 years. Ellis, also a UM professor and scientist, has been by his side for 30 of those years. They live onsite at the station.

Policymakers often rely on Stanford, Ellis and other researchers at the biological station when making decisions. Then the researchers study the effects of those decisions. Countless academic papers and lectures have stemmed from their research.

Dr. Ric Hauer has been working at the station since 1976. His focus has been the North Fork of the Flathead River and he was instrumental in discussions that led to British Columbia’s landmark decision to restrict natural resource development in the area.

Some people, Hauer said, are aware that the biological station is a UM research institution, where graduate and Ph.D. students flock every year, from Missoula and beyond. But he said few fully grasp the station’s far-ranging impact in the scientific world.

“People who are knowledgeable,” Hauer said, “understand how important the biological station is and what an incredibly important role it has played in helping establish environmental policy in western Montana.”

He added: “It’s one of the best institutions in the world in its field.”

Established in 1899 by UM Professor Morton Elrod, the Flathead Lake Biological Station is one of the oldest active field stations in the nation. Over the years, it has grown into a renowned research institution that sends scientists to all corners of the globe, with an active contingent in Russia. But the heart of the station’s work is in Northwest Montana – particularly, though not exclusively, the region’s water systems.

The biological station is a far bigger operation than most would guess. Tucked away in Yellow Bay, it’s not really a station; it’s a campus. Onsite, there is a 10-room dormitory, four apartments and more than 40 cabins for both postgraduate and undergraduate students.

At the property’s center is a main facility with administrative offices and a lecture hall. Next to it is a freshwater research lab. There is also a dining area and game room with pool tables, among other structures rounding out the campus. In total, the station owns 70 acres, including Yellow Bay State Park, which is managed by Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks. It’s one of the largest inland field stations in the country, Stanford said.

“It’s pretty unique for a field station,” he added.

For students pursuing ecology, limnology, biology or other “-ologies,” the station is somewhat of a dream gig, Hauer said.

“You have one of the best sites in the world, you have one of the best institutions in the world – why would you not want to be here?” Hauer said.

Traditionally a postgraduate facility, the biological station has ramped up its undergraduate offerings. Undergrads at UM can now fulfill a three-year field ecology degree by taking classes at the Missoula campus and researching at the biological station in the summers. Stanford said the program begins in earnest this fall.

As an academic institution, many different agencies and organizations seek out the station as a neutral source of scientific information. Laney Hanzel, a retired fisheries biologist, said the institution is vital to maintaining Flathead Lake’s water quality. For 16 years, Hanzel has been a board member of the Flathead Lakers, a group dedicated to protecting water quality on the lake.

Each year, Stanford gives a “State of the Lake” address to the Lakers. Stanford provides an informational foundation for the Lakers as they choose which issues to tackle and what policies or regulations to promote. The Lakers take Stanford’s findings and spread them to the public.

Research Scientist Tyler Tappenbeck pours a water sample from Flathead Lake out of a Van Dorn bottle into a glass container on the Armed Forces Memorial Bridge in Polson. The water samples – one in glass and the other in a plastic container – will be analyzed at the Flathead Lake Biological Station in Yellow Bay.

“Our members look forward to see what the status of the lake is,” Hanzel said. “Our organization is not biological oriented. We don’t feel we can foresee what’s going to happen with a lot of things and we depend on the biological station for the scientific basis for a lot of the work we would like to see done.”

Joe Brenneman, a Flathead County commissioner, said he has spoken with Stanford and Ellis to help him better understand water issues. Also, the station provides information for the Flathead Basin Commission, of which Brenneman is a member. With the station, Brenneman said he gets the science without the politics.

“They give me the strictly scientific perspective on whatever issue that has to do with water quality,” Brenneman said. “It’s very helpful.”

Hauer puts it this way: “We don’t do policy, we don’t do political pressure, we do the science. Then policymakers use this information to make various kinds of decisions.”

But on occasion, politics and science overlap. Hauer, describing his role in the Canadian Flathead mining discussions, said he was stepping up in the face of a serious environmental threat, in a region he knows as well as anybody. He has studied water quality in the North Fork since the 1970s.

“Let’s put it this way: If you were a physician and there was going to be a medical health epidemic in your community, it would be irresponsible to not do something,” Hauer said.

Stanford is one of the station’s two longest-running directors, along with the founder, Elrod. He has been the director since 1980 and has been researching at the station since the early 1970s. Besides the property’s caretaker, Stanford and Ellis are the only people who live year-round onsite.

Stanford believes in science so much that after the wastewater plant at his station was first built, he used to drink the water coming out of it to prove that it worked. During the most heated controversies concerning the lake, Stanford points to science.

So, when asked about a controversial lake trout gill-netting proposal, Stanford is careful with his words in a scholarly way. He dismisses the term “bull trout recovery” as subjective and says it’s crucial to figure out exactly what the priority is: boost bull trout populations or nurture the robust lake trout fishery.

Stanford said it’s a matter of dealing with “Frankenstein” – humans manipulated nature and have faced unintended consequences since.

“That’s what the Tribes and state are trying to figure out, how to kill Frankenstein,” Stanford said. “I’ll say this: The removal of lake trout is favorable to bull trout. Based on what we know now, there’s no better solution for bull trout.”

“But a lot of people care about the lake trout fishery,” he added.

The Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes recently backed off its gill-netting proposal, though an environmental assessment is pending. No matter what happens, Stanford and his colleagues will be there to document it.

“For me,” Stanford said, “it will be an experiment that I get to measure the consequences of.”

Like this story? Get more! Sign up for our free newsletters.