Episode 66: Water Narratives
“All of us have a different experience of our worlds, we all build these worlds together, the narrative that I tell myself in my core about my life is my life. I think some of the interesting relational work between people is about how those narratives come in contact and how we build those narratives together.”
“Stability really comes from instability, and allowing rivers to be, to function in a way that isn’t always predictable. I’m thinking of a river, it meanders, it carves itself, it leaves deposits, it forms islands. It’s interesting that a river has built in this ability to change.”
A conversation with Drs. Caroline Gottschalk (University of Wisconsin–Madison) and Marty Holtgren (Encompass Socio-ecological Consulting) about the importance of restoration, oral histories, dams, and rivers. Released January 17, 2025.
guests on the show
Caroline Gottschalk
Dr. Caroline Gottschalk is a Vilas Distinguished Achievement Professor in the Department of English at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Dr. Gottschalk uses her training in rhetoric to consider the logics and practices of freshwater management. Dr. Gottschalk has presented internationally on her work, published widely across rhetorical studies and environmental sciences, and received fellowships from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, US Environmental Protection Agency, and AAUW and funding from the National Science Foundation, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the National Park Service. Her interdisciplinary work began with a B.A. in Social Work at the University of Iowa (1999), and a concentration in Gender and Women’s Studies and a fellowship in the NSF-IGERT program in Landscape, Ecological and Anthropogenic Processes at the University of Illinois at Chicago (2011), and continued with a M.S. in stream ecology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison (2021).
Marty Holtgren
Marty is a Fisheries Biologist and Social Scientist. He has enjoyed more than 20 years of experience in fisheries management, native species restoration, cultural revitalization and socio-ecological research. He has managed over 30 major projects involving native species restoration, river restoration, Tribal fishing rights, collective action, fishery management plan development, fish behavior research and evaluation of fishery management techniques. Marty has led many novel projects with Tribal and State agencies including the first effort for streamside rearing of Lake sturgeon in Michigan and evaluating the feasibility of reintroducing Arctic Grayling into Michigan waters. Recently he has focused efforts towards engaging local communities in research and restoration of culturally vital species and habitats. Marty holds a BS in Biology from Bethel College, an MS in Fisheries Biology from Michigan Technological University and a Ph.D. from Michigan Technological University where he focused on developing governance strategies for State and Tribal institutions that are managing fishery resources. He also has numerous peer reviewed publications.
TRANSCRIPT
Mallika Nocco
Today, we’re talking with Drs. Caroline Gottschalk and Marty Holtgren, who collaborate on many exciting projects together. Caroline is a professor of English at UW-Madison and has a fascinating background. She combines rhetoric with critical theory, and she also works on oral histories, storytelling, and flooding narratives. Marty Holtgren is a fisheries biologist and social scientist. He has decades of experience in fisheries management and restoration work, including his time with the Little River Band of Ottawa Indians. Together, they bring a unique perspective to the idea of restoration and its various paths. It’s going to be an exciting conversation. Faith, Sam, what are your thoughts?
Sam Sandoval
I’m really looking forward to hearing from them, especially as they bring fresh perspectives on freshwater ecosystems and restoration. It’s going to be a fascinating contrast for those of us in California. Here, we’re dealing with river channels that are incising due to a lack of sediment transport, while, in contrast, they’re experiencing flooding due to too much sediment transport. The restoration efforts here are limited by levees and dams that prevent natural floodplain dynamics. I’m especially excited to hear their perspectives from a non-hydraulic and non-geomorphological viewpoint. I think they’ll bring some fresh insights.
Mallika Nocco
That’s an interesting point, Sam, about the movement of sediment through rivers being a key difference. Faith, I know you’ve spoken with Caroline before. What are your thoughts going into this discussion?
Faith Kearns
I’m really excited to reconnect with Caroline. I actually interviewed her for my book on science communication, specifically her work on collecting stories from flood survivors in southwestern Wisconsin, in the Driftless area. Caroline has become one of my favorite thinkers. She really pulls from multiple academic backgrounds in ways that make her work so compelling. It’s rare to meet someone who blends different fields in such a creative way, and I’m sure Marty brings a similarly creative perspective. I’m excited to see how their collaboration has evolved.
Mallika Nocco
I completely agree. I felt the same way when I found out she was in the area. It’s always inspiring to connect with people who bring so many different perspectives to the table. Let’s dive into today’s episode.
Welcome to Water Talk! In this episode, we’re discussing storytelling, restoration, dams, and flooding with Drs. Caroline Gottschalk and Marty Holtgren. Caroline is a Distinguished Achievement Professor in the Department of English at UW-Madison. She leads an interdisciplinary team focused on public engagement in freshwater ecosystems. Her research blends rhetorical studies with critical theory, social and ecological research on stream restoration, flooding, and watershed conservation.
Marty Holtgren is a fisheries biologist and social scientist with over 20 years of experience in fisheries management, native species restoration, and socio-ecological research. He’s led more than 30 major projects in areas such as river restoration, tribal fishing rights, and collective action. Marty has also pioneered innovative projects with tribal and state agencies, including the first streamside rearing of lake sturgeon in Michigan.
We’re thrilled to have both of you on Water Talk. Your work is fascinating, and we’re excited to explore your unique paths. Faith mentioned that your approach to research could be described as "punk rock" because you bring everything together in such creative ways. Could you share a bit about your professional journeys and how you’ve combined your different areas of expertise?
Caroline Gottschalk
That’s honestly the best compliment I’ve ever received about my research career! I think Marty and I both have unconventional paths, and it’s what makes our work exciting. So, I come from a department of English, which is unusual considering my work. My background is in rhetorical studies, critical theory, and literature. I’m interested in how language shapes our world, how the stories we tell about ourselves and the landscapes we inhabit influence our actions. This is why I’ve always focused on water – I have a Master’s in stream ecology, and my research reflects both my interest in ecology and my background in literature and narrative studies.
In the late 90s, when I was in college, I struggled to find a way to blend these interests. I started a Master’s in literature, which wasn’t quite the right fit, but it provided me with valuable tools. Then, in my PhD, I was able to push myself further by working in both the English department and an ecology program at the University of Illinois at Chicago. I convinced them to let me into their fellowship program, even though I was from the English department. It wasn’t easy, but it was an amazing opportunity that allowed me to bridge these two worlds. Over time, my diverse academic backgrounds—ecology, literature, and rhetoric—have come together in ways that now make sense.
Mallika Nocco
It’s so inspiring to hear that you didn’t have to leave parts of yourself behind. The fact that your interests and experiences have come together to create something unique is a great reminder for students, especially those worried about locking themselves into one path. Different fields and experiences can always inform and enrich each other.
Caroline Gottschalk
Exactly! You don’t leave anything behind. All those experiences build on each other. The lifeguard piece of me, the literature studies piece, the curious grad student piece—those all come together into something that works over time.
Mallika Nocco
Marty, I’d love to hear more about your background and how you’ve blended fisheries science with social science in your work. Your path sounds fascinating as well!
Marty Holtgren
Yeah, thank you. And Caroline, your introduction of yourself is perfect because it’s circuitous. I always think professional paths are like that—these circuitous paths we take. Looking back at my career, the most exciting moments have been those that were unexpected—the choices I made that led me to something I never imagined. Right now, I’m an independent consultant. I spent about 20 years working for tribal and state governments, and I enjoyed that work. But I reached a point where I wanted the freedom to choose the projects I worked on, and just as importantly, to choose the people I worked with. That was one of the exciting things about working with Caroline. She brought in these multi-disciplinary approaches, and the opportunity to assemble teams of people that just clicked—people who had these unexpected paths.
Mallika, you mentioned all the things we bring with us that we don’t leave behind, and for my career, it all goes back to lake sturgeon. For those who don’t know, lake sturgeon are beautiful fish, about six feet long, weighing over 100 pounds. They’re fascinating—like armored dinosaurs. I first saw one when I was 12 or 13 years old at the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. The experience took my breath away, and it’s defined my life and career ever since. That fish has led me down different paths and shaped my decisions.
I ended up at Michigan Tech for my master’s degree, studying with Dr. Nancy Hour, who was dedicated to studying sturgeon at a time when no one else cared about them. They’re not a sport fish, but Dr. Hour was out at 1 am, waiting in the rivers to capture these tiny, week-old fish. Her dedication captured my imagination. She took me under her wing and taught me not only to appreciate the fish itself but also how it connects to human and ecological communities. That experience changed my perspective. Early in my career, I’d attend professional conferences and see a human dimensions symposium, but I’d avoid it, thinking, "What does human dimensions have to do with science?" I couldn’t have been more wrong, and now I wish I had gone. But I do now.
After earning my master’s degree, I worked as a fisheries biologist for the Little River Band of Ottawa Indians. I came into that role with Western knowledge and was exposed to Indigenous knowledge, which was a completely different way of seeing things. It wasn’t linear but rather a more interconnected view, shaped by lived experiences. I remember working on a plan for lake sturgeon sustainability in the river that flowed through the reservation. I had a list of questions written on a notepad, but when I started asking them, the answers weren’t coming. I got frustrated, thinking I was leading the worst meeting ever. But a few days later, I reflected on it and realized that everything I needed to know had been shared with me; I just didn’t know how to interpret it. That was a huge lesson—it's not always about immediate dialogue. Sometimes, it’s about processing and seeking deeper meanings, whether in a discussion or on a hike.
When I was developing an inland fisheries program for the tribe, everything changed. A treaty rights case came up, and I was suddenly involved in combining my biological expertise with skills in litigation and communication. One of the tribal members said to me, "Marty, you should consider a PhD. With that, you can help bring people together—people who struggle to communicate across Western and Indigenous knowledge systems." That really pushed me to focus my PhD on relationships and how we communicate with one another. While still rooted in biology, my PhD primarily looked at how we can work together in productive spaces that meet everyone’s needs while supporting treaty rights.
Mallika Nocco
That's really intriguing, Marty. Your path is so interesting. It’s fascinating because when you think about leadership, the best leaders often don’t see themselves as leaders. So it's really cool to hear how someone encouraged you to pursue a PhD. It’s always interesting to get that nudge from someone you’re partnering with. I’m curious to know how you two started collaborating and how long you’ve been working together.
Caroline Gottschalk
I knew who Marty was before I met him. I had read some of his sturgeon work, which ranged from genetics to ecology and management, and also explored reconnecting people to rivers through sturgeon—papers like that were a delightful surprise to find. I also knew he was working with the Muskegon River Watershed Assembly, which is a group I was involved with. It’s a watershed group near my family’s place in Michigan, so that was always interesting to me. I’d receive emails signed by Marty Holtgren, and then about two and a half years ago, a student I worked with closely, Emma Lundberg, who is now Dr. Emma Lundberg working for Trout Unlimited, contacted me. She had been called to Michigan to help with sturgeon surveys and met Marty. She texted me right away, saying, “I met a person you need to meet.” She kept saying, “You two talk the same, you have the same energy, you’re both weird in the same way.” This was unusual for Emma. She wasn’t usually that forceful about setting up meetings. So she arranged for us to meet in August of 2022. We ended up meeting on a bridge over the Maple River. Emma was running late, which worked out perfectly because it gave Marty and I a chance to talk. And we immediately hit it off.
Marty Holtgren
Yes, I remember standing at a culvert explaining the Maple River Project. You know when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about, and suddenly the discussion starts flowing in directions you’ve been grappling with for months? Caroline started grabbing those ideas and helping to piece them together. The synergy between us was instant, and we were brainstorming ideas for hours. We talked about not just the science and the impacts of the Maple River restoration but also how people could re-engage with the river. It was exciting. By the end of the conversation, I asked Caroline if she’d be interested in working on the project, because it was clear we had a great synergy. I love working with people who bring different types of knowledge, and Caroline definitely did that, along with Emma. The whole team for the Maple River project consists of those kinds of thinkers, and it’s been amazing.
Caroline Gottschalk
Yeah, it was an instant yes when Marty asked me to work on the project. That’s not usually my approach—I’m usually a bit more hesitant in academia. But this project was so compelling that I said, “Yep. I’m in,” without thinking twice. It’s rare for me to jump into something like that, but I’m really drawn to projects that don’t have clear answers—ones that don’t have a "right" answer. Those are the projects I want to work on.
Mallika Nocco
I think that’s a big shift in academia, right? At first, you’re trained to think carefully before saying yes, but then you realize the best projects don’t always have a clear structure from the start. You just dive in.
Caroline Gottschalk
Absolutely. I’m really drawn to those complex, open-ended situations.
Mallika Nocco
That makes sense! Caroline, I know one of the tools you use in your work is oral narratives and histories related to water. Can you explain what those are and how they differ from just a story or report? What defines them, and how have you used them in the past?
Caroline Gottschalk
I was trained in graduate school to do ethnographic work, where you're engaged in a participatory way—living in a place, working in a place, interviewing people about that place. I’ve done a lot of research interviews, which often inform my work and help create the data I analyze to theorize and answer questions. But it was during this period that I was approached by a community partner in late 2018 after massive floods ripped through southern and western Wisconsin. A group of people, led in part by Tamara Dean (an author now based in Madison), reached out to me. I actually had lunch with her just 20 minutes ago—these are collaborations that continue, and it’s turned into a close friendship.
Tamara had been living on the Kickapoo River and experiencing the flood firsthand. As a writer, she was interested in how writing might help people process such a catastrophic event. She was involved with the Driftless Writing Center in Viroqua, Wisconsin, and they proposed a project that would allow people to narrate their own flood stories. They needed a faculty member to sign on as a "humanities expert" for the grant application. I told them, "I'm not really a humanities expert, but I love what you're doing and if I can help, I want to."
The funding came through from Wisconsin Humanities, and the project, called "Stories from the Flood," built an archive of 120 oral narratives where people shared their experiences of the 2018 floods. This is a larger project involving many undergraduate students at UW-Madison and UW-La Crosse, who helped record these narratives and build a community archive.
Now, to answer your question about what an oral narrative is—an oral history typically involves sitting down one-on-one or in a small group with someone, asking open-ended questions that allow them to tell their own story. This is different from a research interview where you're just collecting data, asking, "Is this true? Is it factual?" What I’m interested in is that everyone has a unique experience of the world, and the stories we tell about ourselves are deeply personal. The narratives we share with others build a picture of the world we live in and the world we hope to create together.
In my work, I tend to lean into more personal, intimate settings—like sitting with someone from Maple Island for a couple of hours over coffee and asking, "What do you love about this place? What are you worried about?" It’s not about collecting scientific data, but about understanding the complexity of a place—what it means to the people who live there, and how their experiences differ, but also how they overlap.
For example, when Marty and I were working on the Maple River Project, many people described changes they’d seen in the Muskegon River over time, mentioning spots like "the rock bridge." Through their stories, we discovered that these were historic dams built in the 1880s, long since forgotten. No one knew about them from state records, but by piecing together personal stories, we uncovered an important piece of history.
Marty Holtgren
I love the example you brought up, Caroline. We had passed that location multiple times—probably fifty times. But until we heard the oral narratives, we didn’t understand the significance of what we were looking at. It was a bit of a lightning strike moment. Once we listened to other people’s knowledge, we knew where the two dams were. It’s profound to step into someone else’s shoes and see the world through their perspective. What I’ve loved about working with you, Caroline, is the range of values you uncover. You get to see the different perspectives—what’s shared and what’s unique—and that’s been enlightening. It also sends us down these little rabbit holes. We’ve learned more because these oral histories have forced us to look at things differently.
Caroline Gottschalk
Exactly, Marty. People have also helped us reframe some of our problems. For instance, we’ve been thinking about how to make Maple River a more welcoming place. We asked a member of the Little River Band, "What kind of signage would make this place more welcoming?" And their answer was simple: it needs to be safe. That reframed our whole approach. I had been thinking of “welcoming” in terms of friendliness, but the response was, "I need to feel safe to be here." It's not just about making a place feel welcoming—it’s about the basic safety that people need, especially those who rely on the land and have treaty-protected rights.
I always appreciate how oral narratives can help us understand the nuances that get lost in broader discussions, like those around water research. They force us to see the bigger picture and think about problems in new ways.
Mallika Nocco
It sounds like such a rewarding process, but also one that requires a lot of patience, right?
Caroline Gottschalk
Yes, absolutely. It’s rewarding, but it takes a toll. I’ve sat with over 50 people now, listening to some of their hardest experiences—the worst day of their lives. And that stays with you. So, when people think about using this kind of methodology, I think it’s important not to underestimate the emotional cost. When you sit down with someone and they share something so personal, you are now accountable to them for life. Once they’ve shared their story with you, you can’t just walk away from it. You need to carry that responsibility with you.
I often hear people on the Maple River say, "Marty, you need to make this happen before I die. You’re the one who has to finish this." For people like Marty and me, that carries a lot of weight. It’s not just research—it’s something deeper. And when you take that on, you need to be ready for the ethical and emotional weight of it.
Mallika Nocco
Absolutely. We've talked about this before on the podcast—about accountability. Like when you said there are real people listening to the words we say, and we are accountable to them.
Faith Kearns
You’ve both shared a lot about the Maple River project, but we haven’t fully addressed what it actually is. The Maple River is an anabranch of the Muskegon River. Could you explain what an anabranch is and what you hope to achieve with this project?
Marty Holtgren
Sure! Full disclosure—I didn’t know what an "anabranch" was until about five years ago. The Muskegon River splits around an island, creating what we call an anabranch. One branch flows along the south bank (the Maple River) and the other along the north bank (the Muskegon River). In the mid-to-late 1800s, the logging industry in Michigan was booming, and they needed to make transporting logs more efficient. So, they blocked one of the anabranches to make the process faster. Unfortunately, this led to the Maple River being blocked, creating a 4.6-mile section of river that’s been dormant ever since, as it was diverted to streamline log transportation.
This blockage has had long-term effects, one of which is flooding. Even now, during moderate flows, Maple Island floods, affecting the local agricultural community. There are stories and photos about how severe the flooding has been, with people having to paddle canoes from house to house to rescue others. The blockage also impacted important species, like sturgeon and walleye, and broke the connection that people had with the land. What was once a river became a trench, and it’s eerie to see how drastic the decision to block that river was.
We’ve been doing historical research and walking the area with Caroline. Some sections of the river channel are dry, and you can see the old contours of the banks. The historical decision to block that river is a dramatic part of the region’s legacy. But reopening the river, if we were to do that, would take millions of dollars and many years of work.
Caroline Gottschalk
I think that was a beautiful description of the project. It's a slow, intentional, and complex project that keeps moving forward because of the deep commitment of many people. Everyone involved has made peace with the fact that this is a lifetime project—it's not flashy or designed for quick results. It’s not about immediate, big returns. Before I even joined, there were many who had been working for years to keep the project on people's minds and generate interest. This started with people who lived there and wanted to make it happen.
What’s beautiful about it is that it really challenges how we think about academic research and high-priority projects. Eventually, when it’s complete, it will be a huge accomplishment. Everyone will celebrate when this 4.6-mile stretch of the river is open, but what often gets overlooked is the 20 years of thankless work by a small group of people, including one person who's on this call. That’s important too.
Marty Holtgren
Caroline, I’d like to mention one unique aspect of the project that’s both rewarding and challenging. Because it’s such a large and cost-prohibitive project, many agencies have historically been hesitant to start it. The real challenge is assembling all the necessary elements to make it happen. But it was a grassroots effort that got it started. It all began with one person from the agricultural community reaching out to the watershed assembly, a nonprofit. Roger Peacock, one key champion, got his neighbors excited, and he’s still advocating for the project. He shared his passion with me, and now we’re all branching off from his work. I love that this project has such strong grassroots support; it's hard to stop once it’s in motion. It's not just about funding—there’s a clear vision, and there’s a sustainable way to secure the necessary resources.
Sam Sandoval
We like to end our conversations with two questions. First, how can we support the work that you're doing? And second, is there anything else you want to share with our audience?
Marty Holtgren
Well, I’m on a different track right now, Caroline, so I’ll pass it to you. I was thinking about something Sam and Faith mentioned earlier. We often talk about stability in restoration, wanting something predictable. Engineers prefer designing stable systems. But the fun part of this conversation is that resilience actually comes from instability. Stability isn’t always about making things more predictable. For instance, rivers are dynamic—they meander, carve new paths, leave deposits, and form islands. In the geological time frame, rivers outlast lakes precisely because they can change. This idea challenges me because, as a project manager, stability is comforting. But sometimes, we need to give systems room to breathe, allow some instability, and embrace the change.
Sam Sandoval
Yes, and one way to support your work is by embracing this instability in our projects. Many projects pretend to be stable when they are not. How can we better support the good work you’re doing?
Caroline Gottschalk
We discussed two answers earlier. One is to embrace instability and chaos. Be critical of anything that’s sold as a quick fix—question everything, always. A critical mindset improves your work, and if you're on the right track, questioning it will only reinforce that. On a more pragmatic level, it’s hard to get the initial funding for these big, radical restoration projects. Once funding starts rolling in, it gets easier, but the early stages are tough. It’s particularly difficult for projects that are complex and touch on so many different issues—restoring wild rice habitats, honoring treaty rights, working with local farmers who are dealing with flooding, and so on. It’s hard to get support for these multi-faceted projects. So, I would ask for high-risk funding for projects with strong, experienced teams. These projects have huge potential, but they need that initial boost to get started.
There's also an important role for humanists in these projects. Marty, for instance, is a trained ecologist, but he's also a humanist at heart. The interdisciplinary approach is crucial here, and people with a multidisciplinary background, like Marty, bring valuable perspectives. I bring my knowledge as a freshwater scientist, but also as someone who works in language and critical theory. That kind of training is essential for making these projects work. So, I’d say—fund these types of projects, support students, and take some risks. We need to do things differently, because the status quo hasn’t been working well.
Marty Holtgren
I just want to add that the students have been incredible. Having two or three students bring a fresh perspective has been invaluable. One student, in particular, has been able to explain complex concepts to the community in a way that has really shifted the conversation. So, encouraging organizations to invest in students who can focus on complex projects is key. For us, it’s been a huge benefit.