Salmon are a Northwest icon. California sea lions are not.

Pacific Northwest indigenous peoples depended on salmon for their survival. Salmon fishing became a very lucrative business for Northwest entrepreneurs in the 19th century, and commercial and recreational salmon fishing continues to contribute significantly to the Northwest economy. Even Washington's new state quarter features a Chinook salmon.

Exactly what all this means, however, is a bit harder to grasp. That is, what does the salmon icon actually represent? Dead fish flying through the air at Pike Place Market? Live fish swimming up the Cedar River in downtown Renton? That annoying animated salmon ("Bert the Salmon") in those lawn care commercials?

It may be a collection of all these things and perhaps something more significant: a feeling that our value of responsible stewardship of the environment has enabled salmon in the Pacific Northwest to survive harvest pressure, urban development and habitat exploitation — residents of Europe, New England and Japan can't say the same for their salmon.

The continued survival of Northwest salmon has become evidence and a symbol of our environmental awareness.

Unfortunately, the perspective on salmon that many of us may have is far from the reality. The fact is, many of today's salmon are raised in hatcheries or in net pens at sea. Most natural populations of salmon have declined sharply from historic levels, and what fish remain now face a gamut of manmade obstacles to survival.

For example, fish in the Columbia River — historically one of the world's most prolific producers of salmon — face what is perhaps one of the most interesting and contentious obstacles: the California sea lion.

Sea lion predation is a problem for salmon in other regions, but the case of the Columbia has been one of the most troubling. The problem has been the topic of heated debates between state and federal governments, fishermen and animal rights activists, receiving national media attention for several years running.

Since the early 1990s, California sea lions have followed migrating spring Chinook salmon to the base of Bonneville Dam, where the fish "stack up" before filtering through the dam's fish passage.

With easy fishing opportunity abounding, the number of sea lions at Bonneville has consistently increased since their first appearance, and the number of salmon has decreased.

The situation has deteriorated to its present state, where sea lion predation poses a serious threat to the survival of spring Chinook, and game officers use firecrackers and rubber bullets to deter the sea lions.

An obvious and almost certainly effective solution to the problem would be sea lion and population control: reduce the number of sea lions, theoretically enabling the number of salmon to recover.

In fact, this is exactly what scientists and game officials have requested: permission to control the sea lion population in order to aid the dwindling salmon population.

As it turns out, they may not get it.

For one thing, the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 protects California sea lions indefinitely, even though their numbers, particularly in the Columbia, are no longer of concern. The Marine Mammal Protection Act is a cumbersome piece of legislation around which any wildlife management organization must work, and it is unclear whether or not any amount of lobbying will overcome its influence.

Additionally, animal rights groups have adamantly opposed any proposals to control the sea lion population. In their argumentative exuberance, these activists have once again missed the point.

Bonneville Dam is a manmade obstruction to salmon migration. Prior to the dam, migrating salmon did not exist in such concentrations at any point in the Columbia, and California sea lions never depended on a Bonneville fishery.

The problem that exists today is complicated, but to oppose population control because sea lions have "rights" is a gross oversimplification. Does animal rights activism stop short of fish, or are fish just lower in the hierarchy of animals to protect since they are not as cuddly?

Governmental and private organizations must work together on this matter — and quickly — to reach a sensible solution that respects the natural order of the Columbia's ecosystem.

If salmon cannot be preserved in even the rivers with the largest historic populations, the future of salmon elsewhere is bleak. I think a Pacific Northwest without salmon is not something any of us would care to see.

Reach columnist Andrew Brown at opinion@thedaily.washington.edu.-