“Happy birthday to you,” the guests sang.

Herman, the “birthday boy” in his 80s, now at 500 pounds and about 11 feet in length.

The celebrity known as the most famous fish in Oregon — Herman the Sturgeon.

Herman lives at the Bonneville Fish Hatchery, at the interpretive center, a scenic area near Cascade Locks, on the Oregon side of the Columbia River, and just off I-84.

I heard about the fish hatchery from numerous out-of-state relatives who stopped there on vacation and urged us to visit. Whether we were traveling east or west on the freeway, we were in a rush to get to our destinations and sometimes failed to enjoy nearby attractions until a newcomer encouraged us to visit.

In 1925, the first Herman moved in. Beginning in 1932, Herman was trucked to the state fair annually and featured as a top attraction for 50 years. In spite of the adulation for Herman, he suffered some challenges. Herman got sick after a trip. A group of juvenile sturgeons were stolen. Other Hermans — attacked by scoundrels with knives.

On my first visit to the Bonneville Fish Hatchery, I headed to the sturgeon viewing site and settled in a good spot to study the current Herman. A variety of fish swam past. No Herman. Twenty minutes went by. A sturgeon swam into view. Is that Herman? More like Herman’s younger brother. If that was Herman, he was a disappointment. People filtered in and out. Herman seemed immune to pressures not to be tardy in showing up for anxious tourists.

Perhaps he’s not swimming past today — busy sucking up crustaceans elsewhere.

Finally, a head that looked bigger than a Hermiston watermelon and a long snout appeared. He swam close to the underwater glass barrier, where his features suggested his prehistoric past. Herman’s body leisurely swam into view. More body. The body kept flowing past.

A parent gasped and her two children stood mute and wide-eyed. Herman slipped from sight — his viewing a dip into a prehistoric time.

Herman didn’t have the sleek look of a trophy salmon or a rainbow trout. He did have the build and features of a fish one didn’t want to tangle with while swimming or boating nearby. A mouth full of teeth? No teeth. None. A cup-like mouth he and his kin use to vacuum up food from the bottom of the river.

Sturgeons have no scales. Bony plates cover sandpaper skin, and they have a shark-like tail. Up and down the Columbia River past Herman’s home contains some of the finest sturgeon habitat for reproducing in the world — so say those tracking their progress and longevity, a hundred years or more. Still, some areas have catch and release, other times fish catch may be one or two a year — with caution due to carcinogenic potentials to limit intake, and recommended only for non-pregnant adults.

Herman and family seemed safe to recreate around — except for one small behavior. Herman’s kin known to occasionally leap about. Why? Reasons range from it feels good to a means to communicate. The problem lies with the fact that after a leap into the air, the sturgeon might drop down accidentally on a swimmer or a fisherman in a boat.

Having an object Herman’s size and weight plop down would be like having a grand piano land on your canoe.

What a thrill to meet a prehistoric survivor.

Suggestion: Before visiting, get directions to the Bonneville Fish Hatchery whether heading east or west on I-84.

Happy Birthday, Herman!