Rainbow trout and steelhead are two of the most popular sport fish in the Great Lakes. They also hold three spots on my lifetime list of all-time great dives.
An 8-inch juvenile rainbow was the first fish I ever hand-fed in the Great Lakes. My partner, Greg Lashbrook, and I had fed fish before at several different Caribbean dive resorts. Fish feeding was a fairly common practice at the time for resort divers.
One random summer day, we decided to try feeding some Great Lakes fish. We stopped at a local bait shop on our way to the river and bought the midwestern classic: a small plastic container packed with a handful of black dirt and a dozen plump nightcrawlers.
The rainbow was bolder than any saltwater fish we’d ever fed. By the fourth worm, he was snatching them from my fingertips. It was a top-ten moment that helped me achieve one of my first article publications.
My next magical encounter with rainbows was in an Ohio quarry. Gilboa is among the most popular Midwest dive destinations, particularly for scuba instruction and training. But we went there for the fish.
At the quarry, I intentionally incited a feeding frenzy of rainbow trout and put myself in the center of the action. A feeding frenzy happens when a large group of fish begins feeding en masse. It’s an experience that continues to stand out amongst the hundreds of hours I’ve spent underwater.
The steelhead took feeding to another level.
Most steelies are fairly curious. As one of the largest predators in the system, they have little to fear. In the wild, having little fear often allows room for curiosity to override caution.
I found that for a free serving of shrimp cocktail, a steelhead will abandon all safety protocols.
He, or she, struck with incredible force, ripping the shrimp from me regardless of how hard I tried to hold it. The fish’s boldness, combined with my determination to hold onto the shrimp, is likely why I got bitten.
Steelhead have fairly large and very sharp teeth.
As it took the shrimp, its teeth barely grazed the side of my finger, but that was all it took. Faster than you can say peanut butter, I had blood oozing from a two-inch gash. I was surprised to see that blood looks brown underwater.
The wound was not serious. It wasn’t even enough to make me stop feeding. The bleeding stopped before the dive was over.
I’ve offered shrimp to half a dozen steelhead in the ensuing years. I’ve never had another one come in so quickly or feed so willingly.
All of these experiences involved feeding, which is why I wrote “Hand-feeding a rainbow trout is fun, but is it ethical?”
At a recent production meeting, the executive producer of Great Lakes Now asked me to explain how the whole “all steelhead are rainbow trout but not all rainbow trout will become steelhead” situation works. So, here we go.
Western Rainbows
Gilboa Quarry in Ohio has a large school of rainbow trout that visiting divers are welcome to feed. (Photo courtesy of Kathy Johnson)
Rainbow trout are originally from the West Coast of North America. Their range extended from Alaska down to Mexico and inland to Alberta and Nevada.
Rainbow trout are so popular that they are one of the most widely distributed of all freshwater fish. They have been stocked throughout the entire Great Lakes basin, released into North American rivers and lakes as far south as Georgia and Alabama and shipped around the world.
Like other trout, rainbows are long and slender. They are not striped like an actual rainbow; rather, their shiny bodies have a pastel shimmer like the luster of a freshwater pearl. They have a sprinkling of dark dots across their backs, sides and tails. Some have a bright pink stripe running down their sides.
Rainbow trout, particularly the younger ones, love bugs. Which explains why there is an entire industry dedicated to making trout lures that resemble all kinds of bugs.
In the Great Lakes, they also eat a lot of shiners and smelt. Rainbows reside in the middle of the food chain. They eat smaller things and they get eaten by larger predators, including birds and bears.
Adults average about 20 inches. Depending on food availability, it will take them 3 to 4 years to reach this length. They can live up to 11 years, but most won’t make it past 6 or 7 years old.
Rainbow trout can live in freshwater and saltwater. They all start out in freshwater but after a few years many will head to the sea. And when these anadromous or sea run rainbows return, they are called steelhead.
Returning from the Sea
Kathy Johnson hand feeds a steelhead in lower Lake Huron. (Photo courtesy of Kathy Johnson)
Steelhead have the same scientific name as rainbow trout, which is why steelies do not have their own page in any of my field guides. Each book mentions them in the rainbow trout section, where steelhead are listed as a form of rainbow trout.
In landlocked lakes, rainbow trout will live and die as rainbows. They will never change forms and become steelhead.
In their western homelands, rivers flow to the ocean, giving rainbow trout access to the Pacific. Many will take it. Before leaving their freshwater rivers, the rainbows go through a series of physical changes called smoltification, which allows them to survive while in saltwater.
Life in the ocean changes them. Technically, when they return to spawn, they are still the same species as when they left, but they look and act differently.
They become bigger, more powerful, and streamlined. Their pretty pastel color fades to a metallic silver suit of armor.
Like other members of the Salmonidae family, when making spawning runs, steelies don’t eat. But unlike most salmon, steelhead don’t usually die after spawning.
There is a large school that holds that rainbow trout cannot become steelhead without a trip to the ocean. Therefore, the Great Lakes do not have any true steelhead, just big resident rainbows.
I have to concede that the Great Lakes do not contain the same level of predators as the ocean. Orcas immediately come to mind! Having to evade killer whales would definitely up your game.
Still, the Great Lakes obtained their moniker as “America’s inland seas” for a reason. Their vastness and depth separate them from all other bodies of freshwater in North America.
While the topic continues to be hotly debated in sportfishing circles, the scientific community sides with the Great Lakes as having steelhead.
The Michigan Sea Grant website states that Lake Michigan serves as a substitute for the ocean and “Lake Michigan steelhead live a life that is very similar to that of their ocean-going relatives.”
I’ve gotta go with the scientists.
There is no question that the steelie I fed at the base of Lake Huron was a very different fish from the big old rainbows I met in the quarry.
Catch more news at Great Lakes Now:
I Speak for the Fish: Hornyhead chubs are cooler than their name implies
I Speak for the Fish: Why do mudpuppies matter?
Featured image: The soft pink sheen of a rainbow trout can be seen as it pauses to take food from author Kathy Johnson. (Photo courtesy of Kathy Johnson)
