For millennia, the annual spring herring spawn along the shores of Hornby Island has drawn seabirds and seals, porpoises, orcas and people. It’s both a spectacle and a feast: the seas turn milky turquoise as the tens of thousands of males release their milt to fertilize the females’ eggs, lapped by the waves and blanketing every square centimetre of rock and vegetation.

The return of the small but mighty forage fish is a true wildlife spectacle to witness, but it also raises ongoing concerns about how the herring are being managed. When the commercial roe herring fishery harvests herring during their spawn, their goal is catch the fish just prior to the females releasing their eggs. The scale of the fishery concerns conservationists because herring return year after year to spawn, so harvesting mature fish prevents them from spawning to create the next generation and also means they are not alive to spawn the next year. 

For thousands of years, herring have been an abundant food source for coastal First Nations from Alaska in the north, down through B.C. and to Washington State. In more recent decades, the Heiltsuk and other First Nations have documented the decline of the herring and advocated for a sustainable fishery that would allow herring stocks to rebuild. They believe Fisheries and Oceans Canada harvest quotas remain too high.

Conservation and wildlife photographer Kali Wexler has been documenting the return of the herring for more than five years, primarily from his home base of Hornby Island. As the 2024 annual spawn gets underway, he sat down with Canadian Geographic to talk about the wonder of this event — and the critical role herring play in the marine ecosystem.