Suburban Streams: The Next Frontier in Native Fish Conservation

Editor’s Note: This is the eighteeneth article in our series on fly fishing conservation.  This series appears with the support of Epic Fly Rods.

Native Fish Coalition (NFC) began as a Maine-based organization focused on wild salmonids. Today, NFC operates in 21 states, championing not just coldwater species but warmwater gamefish and often-overlooked nongame species. Our latest frontier lies in suburban streams—waterways that thread through developed landscapes, frequently overlooked and long presumed lifeless. This new direction emerged when an article about daylighting suburban streams caught my attention, discussing the unburying and restoration of suburban waterways for aesthetic, ecological, and flood-prevention purposes. As executive director of Native Fish Coalition, I immediately saw an opportunity to expand our mission.

The seeds of this initiative were planted in my childhood memories of Newton, Massachusetts, 30 minutes outside Boston, where I reached out to our Massachusetts chapter about examining the local streams. Though more developed than I realized at the time, the area featured a network of heavily manipulated and partially buried streams. Along with a modified lake and small patches of woods, these streams were my closest connection to nature—places where I could pretend to be somewhere wilder.

The streams of my youth bore names that told their stories. Cold Spring Brook and South Meadow Brook described what they were before development. Sawmill, Laundry, Furnace, and Cheesecake Brooks were named for their uses. Hyde and Hammond Brooks honored locally famous people. Smelt Brook, though its namesake fish had long vanished, remembered the sea-run smelt that once swam up from Boston Harbor via the Charles River to spawn.

These suburban waterways emerged briefly into daylight only to vanish beneath houses, driveways, businesses, schools, parking lots, roads, sidewalks, and fields. Centuries before my birth, they were straightened, dredged, walled in, culverted, channeled through cement runways, dammed, and buried. In developed areas, they were excavated four feet or more below the surrounding landscape and contained between walls to prevent flooding and erosion.

Some stream sections were impounded into small, shallow, artificial ponds linked by metal or clay pipes, or brief stretches of buried or open stream. Three small ponds on city hall property were actually fragments of a lake split by road construction. Even the original pond was artificial, created by a dam in the mid-1660s to power a mill.

The small artificial ponds hosted frogs, turtles, snakes, ducks, and mysterious fish that rose from the black water to take bread meant for the waterfowl.

Most streams of my childhood ran relatively clear and cool throughout the year, thanks to homes and businesses drawing water from Quabbin Reservoir rather than wells. Though straightened, dredged, and walled in, the open-air sections maintained sand bottoms and some vegetation and structure. Underground, these waterways flowed through featureless cement conduits.

The longest stretches of open air—now called “daylighted”—stream lay on city property, including Cold Spring Brook in Cold Spring Park and Hammond Brook in Newton Center Playground. The latter featured a spring that emerged from beneath a tree just downhill from the Hut, a warming station for sledders. Other open sections crossed golf courses, places where curious youths like myself were unwelcome.

Rediscovering Hidden Life

NFC board member Jeff Moore, who also grew up in Newton, joined the investigation of Cold Spring Brook where I had spent countless hours as a child. Though locals claimed the stream was fishless, we wanted to verify firsthand. While the main channel showed no signs of life, Jeff discovered several small fish in a tributary—golden shiners of various sizes, native to much of the eastern United States. The presence of juveniles smaller than typical bait size suggested a self-sustaining population. In a heavily modified stream long presumed lifeless, any evidence of natural reproduction was encouraging.

A Deeper Investigation

Subsequent visits with additional expertise, including Brian Cowden, NFC national vice chair–Northeast and partner in Trout Scapes River Restoration, revealed more about the stream’s history and potential. Historical map analysis suggested Cold Spring Brook might have been relocated rather than merely modified. The channel’s trapezoidal shape and deep layers of organic matter pointed to significant human alterations.

We’ve initiated eDNA metabarcoding testing to better understand what species might inhabit these waters. Recent rains have revealed potential original streambed locations, warranting further investigation with GIS mapping. While awaiting test results, we’ll conduct additional sampling in promising locations and support local initiatives to daylight buried sections of the stream.

A New Direction for Urban Conservation

While suburban and urban waterways increasingly receive attention for habitat restoration, fish populations often remain overlooked. The literature about Newton’s streams barely mentioned fish, focusing instead on infrastructure protection, aesthetics, and recreation. With recent changes in weather patterns causing previously stable streams to flood, these waterways offer opportunities not just for flood control but for expanding ecological green belts through developed areas.

Restoring Cold Spring Brook within Cold Spring Park would be challenging, requiring extensive dredging, elevation adjustment, and addition of natural features. As a starting point, we plan to restore a short section at an existing 90-degree bend to demonstrate the stream’s potential natural state and build support for larger efforts.

We’ve also connected with the Charles River Watershed Association about contributing our fish expertise to their Cheesecake Brook restoration project, located just 1.5 miles north. Though in better condition than Cold Spring Brook, its fish populations remain poorly understood.

This expansion into suburban stream restoration represents a natural evolution for the Native Fish Coalition. Following our initial urban water project on an Ohio college campus, we’re working toward a future where suburban and urban children can connect with nature—and hopefully fish—in their own neighborhoods, just as I once did in the hidden streams of Newton.