The yearly migration of freshwater fish up the Magdalena River remains a defining economic moment in Honda, Colombia, a town whose fishing culture is built around “la subienda.” During the period that fishers say typically arrives between January and February, people who depend on artisanal catching wait for the fish to move upstream to reproduce, knowing that a successful season can mean more than a good catch.
Víctor Segura Guerra, 33, described the rhythm as both necessary and precarious: he said he throws his net into the Magdalena expecting to bring home enough fish to cover debts and finish construction on his home. “Aprovechamos el momento en esta época pues ganamos buena platica (dinero): ahorramos, pagamos nuestras deudas… y pues tengo un proyecto por ahí de una casita para terminarla y salir de pagar arriendo”, Segura said, adding that he has spent more than half of his life fishing. When “la subienda” ends, he said fishing alone does not cover his expenses, so he also works in construction.
Honda’s reliance on the migration goes beyond individual households. Luis Humberto Salinas, a representative of the Asociación de Pescadores Unidos de Honda, said “La base fundamental de este municipio es ‘la subienda’. Si no hay ‘subienda’, no hay economía”, linking the town’s wider financial stability to the upstream movement of fish. The community also celebrates the phenomenon with a carnival and a “reinado de la Subienda” at the end of February, featuring music and cultural representations centered on the arrival of large numbers of fish.
In recent years, however, fishers say the river’s seasonal patterns have shifted in ways that affect the timing and success of the migration. Eduardo López, another representative of Honda’s fishers, said they associate the changes with climate-related drought, describing “mucho verano (sequía)” and conditions where the river’s natural water storage—referred to as “las ciénegas”—does not fill. He said that when water levels drop and temperatures rise, the fish reproduction process slows and the migration takes longer.
López said he worries that the ecological disruption is also shrinking native populations. He described the Magdalena as a “fuente de vida” and warned that “hay muchas especies nativas que se están acabando por esos fenómenos”, pointing to the bagre rayado, or Pseudoplatystoma magdaleniatum, which he said is in danger and listed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature, or UICN. A separate 2022 publication by the Instituto Humboldt, the University of Antioquia and Empresas Públicas de Medellín warned that species living in the Magdalena River—including the bagre rayado—face threats from deforestation, ecosystem transformation and degradation, and overfishing.
López also tied the changes to commercial outcomes, saying the seasonal fish availability has fallen. “En los últimos años la comercialización del pescado ya no se encuentra como antiguamente, como en el 75, 85, 95; las ‘subiendas’ han bajado”, he said. Fishers in Honda defend their harvesting as artisanal, but some people in neighboring areas complain that other methods—such as nets used in ways they described as not permitted, including “redes de arrastre” that catch everything without distinction—can undermine the migration’s natural replenishment.
In Honda, the tension now runs through both culture and livelihood: “la subienda” remains the annual anchor of local economic life and a centerpiece of public celebration, while fishers increasingly describe its future as constrained by altered river conditions and mounting pressure on the Magdalena’s ecosystems.