Beneath the Surface: How We Count Millions of Fish in Real Time
- Geoffrey C. Smith
- Aug 24
- 5 min read
On August 20, 2025, a remarkable number echoed out of the Kenai River:
158,000 Sockeye Salmon. In a single day. A Season Total to Date: 4,252,747.
That's not a guess - it's sonar science. Just upriver at River Mile 19, the Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADF&G) operates an underwater sonar system that tracks each fish as it passes. It can detect shape, size, and direction - providing a daily snapshot of the run in progress. It's one of the best examples of science and nature working together.
Did you know:
Sockeye salmon don't eat once they re-enter freshwater. Their stomachs begin to break down so their bodies can shift entirely to spawning. From that point on, they're running on memory and instinct.
The Science of Survival - and the Art It Inspires
Every sockeye in this year's run was born in Alaskan gravel beds. After a few years feeding in the ocean, they've returned without hatcheries or tagging back to the same stretch of river where they hatched.
This year's numbers are well above average. Escapement goals are already being met, and as a result, ADF&G has started opening up more fishing opportunities. That's how it should work, let the fish lead, and we follow.
Culture Carried on the Current
Long before any of us were painting, counting, or sport fishing, Alaska's Indigenous peoples lived in sync with the salmon. The Dena'ina, Yup'ik, and Chugach relied on salmon not just for food but also for cultural meaning. They marked time by the run, held ceremonies, and returned bones to the water as a sign of respect. That cultural relationship is still here today, and it still matters. I have a deep respect for the men and women who occupied this land as the first people. Life must have been difficult, yet they endured and lived and died based on the cycles of the seasons.
Though I was not born in Alaska, I walk its wild spaces with reverence. I am a witness shaped by many places, a conservationist moved by a devotion that crosses borders. What I paint is not confined by region, but rooted in a shared breath between our mother earth and all living things. It is important to me that my art reflects my view of Alaska today, my visions as I witness the passing of time.
My work is a single story, and the land is its author. Life in Alaska moves in circles, like the tide, the seasons, a life, we all move, round and round, in and out, following ancient patterns.
Painting the Return: Circle of the Salmon
This painting captures one of those moments I'll never forget: a bear in the thick of the river, surrounded by sockeye turning the water red. One fish feeds the bear, but the others keep going, fighting the current, fulfilling their purpose. This is a painting of abundance. A brown bear stands in the rushing waters of the Russian River, jaws clamped around a brilliant red sockeye salmon. All around him, the river pulses with life, flashes of crimson scale and emerald head salmon returning home, summoned upstream by instinct, to spawn, to die, and in doing so, to feed the forest itself.
I painted this after standing in the cold, clear water of the Russian River, camera and brush forever inspired by the rhythm of the wild. This isn’t just a painting of a bear catching a fish; it’s a portrait of an ecosystem in harmony. The salmon are the heartbeat of the river. Their bodies feed the bears, yes, but also the gulls, the ravens, the magpies, and the foxes. Even the trees along the riverbanks grow taller and stronger from the nutrients the salmon bring in from the sea. Scientists have found nitrogen from salmon carcasses in the rings of Sitka spruce hundreds of feet from the river.
The sockeye’s journey is nothing short of mythic. Born in these waters, they swim to the ocean where they grow and fatten over the years, then return—somehow—to the very gravel bed where they were hatched. Their return fuels the entire web of life. The bear in this painting knows his role. He doesn’t take more than he needs. He walks lightly. He’s part of the dance.
I used thick palette knife strokes to reflect the wild energy of the river and the vitality of the fish. The turquoise blues churn with motion. The salmon burn with vibrant reds and greens. The bear, majestic, primal, and present, stands as both predator and steward.
“A forest grows on the bones of salmon. We forget that. But the bear remembers. The river remembers. This painting is a celebration of that memory and a reminder that our survival, too, is bound to the river.” — Geoffrey C. Smith
I've seen it happen just like this. It's not imagined - it's real. That's what I try to capture in paint: what it feels like to witness the cycle in motion. Don't worry, the bear was too interested in the fish to be bothered by the likes of me. It is important to stay alert to the mood and behavior, and mostly your proximity to every bear, as it is after all their home first.
In The Final Run, I painted that return in motion. I painted it after spending time on the river, watching the water come alive with sockeye. No bear, no fisherman, just fish heading home. I used bold palette knife strokes to show their energy and movement without overcomplicating it. It's a painting about the run itself.
Fun Fact: ADF&G's sonar is so accurate that it can tell the direction fish are moving. That means they only count sockeye swimming upstream, so outgoing species like silver salmon or Dolly Varden aren't included in the run total.
The Artist and the Fish
My wife, children, and I have been fishing the Kenai River for years. We sport fish for sockeye, and we bring them home to nurture and feed our bodies for the rest of the year. But it's not just about the food. It's about being out there, part of it, watching it happen, and enjoying the community aspect. Neighbors are noticing how our children have grown, catching up on old friends and making new ones.
It is from this emotional standpoint that these paintings come. Red Run and Circle of the Salmon are two examples I created after being in the middle of the real thing. They're not just about what salmon and bears look like. They're about what they mean.
If you wish to see the collection of work I created in Alaska Please Click this Link
Thanks for walking this stretch of river with me. Please enjoy a quick video of me putting my phone in the water!!! ~ Geoffrey Smith
