It was a stroke of immeasurable good fortune for Hiram and me when David Noakes decided to come to Corvallis for a new phase in his brilliant career. He and Pat became dear friends, and he has been an extraordinary colleague. A little over a year ago I was unable to accept an award in person, and I was deeply honored that David agreed to be there in my place. A moment shared to be remembered forever.

With a focus on my respect for David as a teacher and mentor, I include a revision of a letter I’d written in support of him for an international award:

As the first director of the Oregon Hatchery Research Center (OHRC) on the Alsea River, David’s personal enthusiasm and expertise in experimental science and evolution of fishes attracted researchers from around the globe. From the moment he opened the doors at our new state-of-the art facility he facilitated a diverse array of experimental and field research, including graduate and undergraduate training. Importantly, his vision also embraced an innovative variety of educational experiences. These included public events such as an annual Fall Salmon Festival, and NSF funded k-12 teaching workshops. He asked me to keynote the first of the teacher workshops. At his suggestion I approached the talk with a cultural perspective, and it was one of the most rewarding interactions I have ever had in training teachers. David’s multi-faceted approaches created strong support with legislators and the public, critical to this state-funded center.

Every year David taught a rigorous graduate course in Fish Ecology, and he regularly shared with me his latest exciting ways for introducing research. Drawn from his expertise in lab and field experimentation, these were memorable hands-on activities, including the use of typewriters, that expanded how his students thought about our scientific enterprise. Early in his directorship David asked me to help teach a field-oriented session of the class at the OHRC, and I saw first-hand his respectful, engaged approach teaching young graduate students. There were many other co-teaching moments, including international student exchanges and coastal teacher workshops where he quietly worked behind the scenes to secure funding and facilitate endless details. I learned that was David’s way – unobtrusively providing opportunities for colleagues and students, bringing together folks he knew would benefit from the interactions.

Dr. Noakes’ mentoring and genuine long-term interests in his students was revealed in many ways. Though he was located in our little Oregon town, his former students and colleagues regularly, often repeatedly, sought him out here, and many presented seminars in our weekly Monday Morning Meetings (aka Stream Team) that he co-led for several years, coming from Canada, Iceland, Thailand, Japan and other points around the world. A few years ago Hiram and I were lucky enough to travel with David and Pat to visit his many friends, former and contemporary students, in Iceland where his long-term, international influence in aquatic science and freshwater policies was present everywhere. A memorable, once-in-a-lifetime experience for us.

David’s graduate students and post-doctoral fellows, talented men and (many) women from many countries, were indicative of his consistent interests in nurturing a significant diversity of expertise. They were highly engaged teams working together. David often chose towards strong international representation. To our great advantage, these choices expanded perspectives of those within his team, in our department and our region. David was unfailingly generous with his time, looking out for the academic success of his students, carefully watching after their personal welfare. He often made it possible for his students to join him in attending a variety of international meetings, undoubtedly benefiting from his many contacts including those made as long-standing editor of the Environmental Biology of Fishes. I know he paid close attention and helped ease student hardships associated with international travel for travel to Pakistan, Canada, Iceland and Thailand for professional and personal trips. The consistent devotion David dedicated to overseeing the progress of his students, while giving them great freedom in exploring ideas and approaches of their own, was a hallmark in mentoring style.

It has been a great joy visiting with many of David’s students spanning his early years in Guelph to his young graduate students and post-docs here in Oregon. These brilliant scientists share in common not only their enthusiasm for fisheries science, but importantly, an ethical commitment to ways we can contribute to the societies in which we live. I am certain these attributes were fostered David’s good humor, guidance and unwavering support. Those memories, so bittersweet at this moment, inspire us to follow his example.

Photo: David with Miles Keenleyside and the student award winners, Naomi Gardiner and Camille Leblanc, at EEEF in Boston.


One of the best decisions I ever made was to go to my first EEEF meeting since that is where I met David Noakes. Lucky for me David did not believe in scientific circle boundaries; instead, he welcomed me and was intrigued I showed up at a meeting where I did not know anybody. The wonderful EEEF meeting atmosphere inspired by David was like no other for including everyone, being open to ideas and mentoring. Later I would host EEEF in Boston, and his advice and the sponsors he found made the meeting what it was. In “About EEEF” that David wrote back then, he stated “We are firmly rooted in the past but dedicated to the future”. Along with his scientific brilliance, this idea shaped the vision of the scope of “The Cichlid Book”, as he called it. I am grateful to David for the opportunity he gave me to work with him on this book. It has been both an honor and a privilege to be involved in this process.

David could have earned the world’s long-distance record for the open-door office policy which extended all the way to Boston and probably beyond. He always had time to start off these conversations with the initial bantering mixed in with asking about was going on around here. David was the SUPER HERO of good will, collegiality and mentorship.

Since David passed away, the Christmas card I received from him and Pat in 2019 wishing me a Buon Natale, Merry Christmas in Italian, has become an important memento. David’s unique way of listening and connecting with people based on what he learned they valued or enjoyed was a wonderful gift he gave. I will never forget the time he almost convinced me to buy an Olivetti Lettera typewriter in the typewriter shop here. And it was so good that knowing David, even long distance, came with the benefit of getting to know Pat too. It is wonderful to have Pat as a friend. My heartfelt condolences to David’s entire family, and to everyone who had the pleasure of knowing David.

David was more than a friend to me, on my sabbatical at the University of Guelph, in Ontario Canada (2002), I was allowed to occupy a space at the Axelrod Institute of Ichthyology, and made me feel at home. He invited me to participate in his working group by giving me science spaces to talk about my Mexican fish projects. I am undoubtedly deeply grateful to him. Later he invited me to participate as associate editor in the journal Environmental Biology of Fishes, in which I still support and will continue to support in his memory and to the extent that the journal takes my services. My deepest gratitude to him and his adored wife (Pat) who on some occasion also invited us to join my family in their house. Rest in peace dear friend. And for the family my deepest condolences.

The tributes on this site so beautifully express the kind, caring, generous, brilliant scientist, friend, and family man that David was, so I will just share a few memories.

Exaggerating the bass tones of his voice for effect, that dry humour, the stern look on his face intimidated a lot of students, but it didn't intimidate me for long because I saw the sparkle in his eyes behind it.

We had a collegial relationship and a friendship based on respect, a tone that he had with everyone. Reflecting back over the years, I don’t take that for granted David always made me feel like an equal - respected and appreciated (and that’s so important for a young woman studying in university at the beginning of her career).

I first got to know him taking ichthyology class in 4th year university at Guelph. I have a lousy memory, but we developed a good connection - he told me about Rivulus marmoratus (as it was known then) - the tiny, self-fertilizing hermaphroditic fish, unique among vertebrates, that fascinated him and that he had a small colony of in an incubator in the Food Science building. He transmitted that interest to me, and I ended up doing an NSERC Summer Research Award with him after graduating (see the photo). I became so intrigued with this fish that I ended up doing my master’s degree with David as my supervisor.

I’ll never forget the first time I handed in something to him as his grad student. David of the “bleeding page” - that’s what I called it. He was already an editor at the scientific journal, “Environmental Biology of Fishes.” The report was literally covered in red. Yes, this was the time we dealt with paper and pen. (Trivia: He was the first one I ever met that got an Apple computer - an Apple 2e).

A highlight from this time is our field trip to the Florida Keys with Will Davis. Rivulus prefers mangrove swamps where it lives in crab holes. Not the kind of glamorous fish-collecting trip one associates with the Florida Keys. We wove our way in and out of entangled mangrove branches and spider webs, often knee deep in mud, and discovered Rivulus in unexpected places like coconut shells, a bamboo hollowed out trunk, and even beer cans. David made jokes about how Rivulus preferred Anheuser Busch over Michelob. He said I had the metabolism of a baby bird because we were either stopping for food for me or the restroom.

We kept in touch sporadically over the years. He would send me things – job and conference notices, and updates about Rivulus and more recently about clove oil. I ended up doing aquaculture research with CUSO in Indonesia where I learned that clove oil could be used as a fish anesthetic. I published research on this work and David, his student, and I subsequently collaborated on a study testing clove oil on rainbow trout.

I saw him many years later at a fisheries conference (CCFR) in Montreal or Ottawa… I hadn’t been to one or seen him in years and we reconnected there. We were standing in the hallway and a longtime colleague of his came up and David asked us us playfully: “What’s the biggest bony fish in the world?” The other gentleman’s answer was wrong, and I piped up with mola (the massive sunfish that can be seen floating on the surface). Yes! David was so proud of his once-graduate student that he treated me to a 30-year-old Oban.

The day after his son Jeff shocked me with the news of his passing, I had the song playing on repeat in my head from James Taylor’s Fire and Rain, “I always thought that I’d see you again….” This is a tough one. David, “So long and thanks for all the
fish!”

David Noakes had a very special relationship with Iceland, involving numerous projects, achievements, friends and fun times to remember. Þingvallavatn with its morphs of Arctic charr and threespine stickleback was one of the primary locations for this association. The lake is in a tectonic valley, and there is a prominent fault extending north from the lake with the local name Davíðsgjá (the fault of Davíð). Here is a picture of David standing beside it, taken in 2017.

As a mentor, colleague and a friend, David was a major force in shaping my life, and I will always keep his memory in my heart. Sólrún and I think of Pat and Jeff and share with them our deepest sympathy.

When I was a visiting researcher at the University of Washington in 2009, David kindly invited me to his lovely house in Oregon just because I was a former student of Prof. Katsumi Tsukamoto. It is a great memory for me to spend a happy time with David and Pad, and they guided me around the museum, experimental facilities etc. Even after I returned to Japan, he always gave me various advice. When one of our colleagues got sick, he immediately sent a warm letter. I will try my best to become a scientist like David, who is open-minded, kind to everyone, and keeps interest. My deepest condolences.

What did it mean having been one of David’s younger brothers? My name is John. My twin brother Don passed away in October just 6 weeks before David.

Memories from early times are a bit vague but the most vivid memories began when David had gone to London to attend UWO. I can picture him walking along the sidewalk on his way home for the weekend. As he passed Bert Horton’s house, the anticipation of seeing him again in person was almost too much to bear!!

He was a guiding force in my life. It was beneficial to have him as my chess tutor. Little did I know how much value those lessons would be later in life. Even when your queen has been taken, it doesn’t mean the game has been lost. It just means it is the time to dig a bit deeper with the resources that you have left.

As time went by, David was my “go to person” when any questions about science had to be answered. It was an honour to have such a person turn to me to answer questions about Ham radio, Morse code, telecommunications and short wave radio receivers. I can still remember him asking me to build a ‘stream flow meter’ using a diagram that he found in a book. I managed to build it and by all accounts, he did use it. He was pretty happy because he said that he wasn’t able to buy one of those things anywhere.

His last couple of years were occupied with his younger brother bugging him about a science experiment that was unfolding in real life. We shared a lot of emails back and forth. His last words of advice to me were to keep our dog away from it. Thanks, David. That is the best advice you could ever have given!

I have posted a photo of our dog with me on a visit we had to a long term care facility in Kamloops. The visit took place just before Christmas about 6 weeks before everything locked down due to the Covid-19 pandemic. David, Pat, my twin brother Don and his wife Olga, along with our sister Jean and her husband Murray came to visit and met our dog Buddy when we had just adopted him as a puppy. (He was a handful.)
I do regret that I couldn’t visit either brother in their last days; Covid-19 did that to a lot of people. Maybe a visit from a therapy dog would have been appreciated.

Not everyone could have been fortunate enough to have had a brother like David. Four guys were. I shall be ever grateful for that blessing in life.

One of the luckiest days in my research (and non-research) life was when David Noakes walked into my office in the EPA building some 13-14 years ago to introduce himself and chat. He said that Bob Lackey had suggested that he get in touch with me—for which, I am ever indebted to Bob.

Of course, I had heard some about the Oregon Hatchery Research Center (OHRC) and its Director David. But still, I had not gotten up the gumption to go over and introduce myself to explore possible research opportunities there. I could visualize opportunities for some research with fish diets and stable isotope analyses but did not think that OHRC, or EPA, would be much interested in such a collaboration. But David did.

He politely but directly questioned me about what kind of things one could do along such a research line, based upon what we had learned from our prior work on the West Fork of the Smith River. With every cautious suggestion that I made, he would respond—"We can do that out at OHRC." Near the end of our discussion, I asked something like, "Really? Would you be interested in collaborating on such work? You know, I have no formal training in ichthyology," which point he just shrugged off—didn't matter. David could see very clearly the research opportunities, and he made it happen. Thus, we began a productive and hugely enjoyable collaboration—absolutely a highlight of my research life.

Of course, as I would later realize, this sort of research visualization and recruitment was precisely the sort of thing at which David excelled. He reached out to people, created research opportunities, and nurtured those opportunities into meaningful fruition—across the world, throughout his life. And he made a world of friends doing so.

One delightful byproduct of our research collaboration was getting to know David a bit. We would get together to discuss research, and often the discussions would branch off into other topics. These included such diverse things as: possibilities for connections for Atlantic Salmon fishing in Iceland (I am an avid fly fisherman); chess (and the invasion of Iceland by the despicable Bobby Fischer); dog training (he found it nearly hilarious how impressed I was that he knew the dog behaviorist Patricia McConnell well), and, of course, one day, completely unexpected, a lengthy, and highly entertaining discourse on typewriters!

I will miss David immensely, more than I can express here. I will miss his encouragement, his enthusiasm (including the "Slime Bags" team T-shirts he created in honor of our research on measuring stable isotopes in fish mucus), his deadpan humor and wit, and his mischievous grin. He was an exceptional scientist and indeed a splendid person—one of a kind.

We last were in touch towards the end of last October when, at his request, I provided some information on the storage of tissue samples for possible future isotopic analyses and how profitable additional analyses would be by some future researchers. His last sign-off to me was, "Thanks! We can talk. David." We never got to have that talk. I'm sure it would have been a treat—as always.

I had the privilege of completing my PhD thesis in David’s lab at the University of Guelph in the 1980s. At first, I was a bit afraid and in awe of him – I just didn’t know what to make of his dead-pan face and dry speaking style. Over time, he would start cracking droll jokes, smiling ever so little, sharing bits of trivia and I slowly realized that he was a warm, generous, teddy-bear of a person. I have very fond memories of the many meals and parties at David and Pat’s home, first in downtown Guelph and later in the country. Jeffrey grew up before our eyes at these events.
I thought I would share with you one of my last memories of David that combined two of his great passions. We, that is Concordia University in Montreal, hosted the 21st biennial meeting of EEEF in 2018. He loved this conference and was likely its greatest supporter over the years. The meeting in Montreal was fantastic and David was in his usual fine form: delivering two memorable talks, mingling, talking to students, telling jokes etc. In a quiet moment after lunch one day, he asked me if I knew that Leonard Cohen was buried in Montreal. A remarkable thing about David - you learn something completely new about him every time you meet – I had no idea that he was such a passionate fan. He asked me if I knew the location of his grave – I pointed to top of Mount Royal, which is visible from almost anywhere in downtown Montreal. He really wanted to see Cohen’s grave, but there was not sufficient time before the next session. Instead, I walked with him east on de Maisonneuve Blvd towards Crescent Street and something magical, slowly emerges – a huge mural of Leonard Cohen. I think he was genuinely moved, stopped to take photos and told me how he became a fan.
When I heard the news about David’s passing, I thought back to our last quiet moment together. I regret that we did not skip that afternoon session of EEEF and find Cohen’s grave. David Noakes: thanks for being such a patient, quiet, helpful mentor and friend. So long and thanks for all the fish!

So many memories, going back to 1966. I’ll stop after a few:
(1) David was the first Canadian I ever met. He was also the first person with two middle names that I ever met. I guess I was sufficiently impressionable that I assumed all Canadians had two middle names.
(2) David was part of George Barlow’s legendary 1967 Cal ichthyology class. Four of the five students and the t.a. went on to be tenured fish faculty; the backslider became a herpetologist. David was the only grad student in the class, which wasn’t fair. The rest of us had nothing but time to study, while David was working on his PhD. I suspect we outscored him on some exams.
(3) David was a grad student in George Barlow’s lab, and I was resident obnoxious undergrad hanging out with and idolizing the grad students, especially David. He was just so cool: even-tempered, droll, unexcitable, competent. What wasn’t to idolize? I never lost that admiration.
(4) David lived across the street from me my senior year at Berkeley. I was sharing an apartment on Channing with several other undergrads and Howie Schein. David WAS MANAGING THE APARTMENT BUILDING across the street. For anyone to assume such a position of authority and responsibility was astounding. It raised the aura of Canadians even more.
(5) David single-handedly kept EEEF viable, right from the beginning after Jack Ward died. Yes, we had the disorganizing committee with its shifting membership, the cats David unselfishly herded every two years to make things happen. We owe it to him to keep it alive.
Damn! I still don’t believe it. What a loss.

I first met David at the University of Edinburgh when I was an undergraduate in the 1970s working for my Honours degree in Zoology. David was my supervisor while I worked on my thesis and I was David’s first graduate student. We published a paper together and meanwhile he had moved on to Guelph.
We have remained in regular touch and, with his wife Pat, have managed to meet up in person a few times when he visited Scotland.
Our last meeting was to join in a celebration of the life and career of the late Professor Aubrey Manning and we revisited our old haunts at Kings Buildings in Edinburgh.
I had no clue that was to be the last time that we would meet.
David’s many achievements speak for themselves and he remained the most modest, kind and charming person always.
My heart goes out to Pat and his family. We have lost a unique treasure and I shall always be honoured to have him as my mentor and friend.

I will remember David for his enormous generosity (and his quirky humor). Even as an engineer, he was forever welcoming me onto his research trips, his journal, his conferences, his research programs, and even his home. He noticed when I was tired (and dryly pointed it out). He stretched my thinking about so many things, from fish behavior, to animal consciousness, to Icelandic horseback riding, to Darwin's birthday. He shared so much of himself and his time with me. I wish I had taken more time to let him know how much I appreciated him.
This image is from a trip to Iceland in 2006, a trip that was life changing for me in so many ways. It was also where I remember him at his happiest, among the people and fish that inspired him.