This evening while I was packing for a lobster sampling trip tomorrow I was distracted by a big beautiful spider outside my living room window. As I leaned in for a closer look, I saw that she was in deep concentration building tomorrow's web to catch breakfast. She tiptoed delicately across the existing 'scaffolding' of web frame and carefully spun and attached new thread creating the fine webbing in between. She pulled the invisible thread from her abdomen with her rear legs at exactly the right tension so as not to break it. Each line perfectly parallel to the last and meticulously attached in a fraction of a second. Then she reached the end of the line, turned around, and went in the opposite direction. She spun with upmost efficiency and a sense of calm urgency with the task at hand. And all this intricate work could be brushed aside tomorrow with the sweep of a twig in the wind or my broom for that matter.

I thought of my trip earlier this week. The captain was full steam ahead and the sternman was occupied stacking traps on the stern while cap waited for him to break the next pair on the rail and commence the lobster/baiting routine. I was standing right there and was done measuring, so I grabbed the bridle and pulled the trap aboard, forgetting to flick the line out of the block simultaneously. The cap got it for me and we both emptied our respective traps. I thought of how many times I watched that sequence of motions in a day, a week, and a year, and yet when I went to replicate it, my motions were clumsy and novice-feeling. It has been so long since that was my role.

The seemingly effortless motions of one who's very good at what they do can be deceiving to the less experienced. What does a young spider's first web look like?

I also thought about the fibers (rope) that lobstermen work with and how much effort it takes to rig and maintain it seasonally. Shifting offshore in the fall and lengthening lines. Dropping the top warps in the hot tank daily to cook the algae off. Shortening lines in the summer to shift inshore. Swapping out old lines. Marking new lines with red whale markers outside the exemption line. Coiling, tying, splicing over and over again. And just like the spiderweb, this existing framework of lines that is each lobsterman's gang of traps in his/her designated local fishing territory, might get turned upside down by right whale regulations in a few year's time. Complete reconfiguration. Back to the drawing board.

These fibrous networks are fragile, yet important. One's livelihood depends on them.

Lobstah Ladies

This year I've had some fun publicity opportunities. The first was participating in a "Lobster Ladies" calendar that Luke's Lobster compiled to highlight women involved in different aspects of the Maine lobstering industry. I was invited to be "Miss March", as a lobster scientist:

https://www.lukeslobster.com/missmarch/

Then New York Magazine's blog was interested in doing a video on some of the ladies who participated in the calendar and I agreed. It seemed like a fun opportunity to meet a lady captain and have a relaxing afternoon on her boat. After all, I don't often go for pleasure rides these days. It turned out that the whole attendance (2 publicity reps from Luke's Lobster, who facilitated the event, and the 2 videographers from NY Magazine) was female. So we had a fun ladies cruise culminating in a delicious lobster bake hosted by Luke's in Tenants Harbor. A much needed relaxing and enjoyable respite after a busy day. Here's the video:

https://www.thecut.com/2018/06/meet-the-women-ruling-maines-lobster-industry.html

Muscle Memory

Today I scored a lobster sampling trip with a fisherman who had straight-out refused me last year. This week my timing was impeccable and I ended up aboard. His sternman was unavailable so Riley had planned to haul solo. He jumped at the prospect of free help. I rescheduled my meetings to take the trip, since he goes fishing consistently in most weather and would be a dependable trip option in the future.

I wore 2 hats today: 1.) state observer and 2.) Lobstah Gal. I was a little squeaky at the sternlady gig at first, but my muscles quickly remembered the motions a few traps in. My arms remembered how to band lobsters quickly, how to bait a trap and pull it back as cap breaks the second trap of the pair on the rail, and how to stand traps on the stern with minimal lifting. My back also remembered the aches of a long day on the water, which seem to be more pronounced with each year.

Riley was glad to have the help and when we reached the original goal of hauling 180 traps he said how much time I'd saved him had he gone alone. In fact, things went so efficiently that we ended up hauling ~50 more traps than the minimum number that he had anticipated. He expressed his gratitude by offering me lobsters for dinner, but I was too tired to cook them and kindly declined.

When my food and water ran out, my energy started flagging and I think Riley noticed the number of prefilled bait bags was dwindling with my battery life. I was glad to see my hometown appear on the horizon as we pointed the bow home.

What I appreciated most about the day was the feeling of working side-by-side with someone, anticipating their actions and facilitating their next move, like a well-oiled machine. There's a comradery in relying on someone to bail you out if you get in a pinch on the boat and them relying in turn on you. A boat is an island that isn't easy to access if you need help. The feeling of mutual reliance on eachother is a unique one on the water that I haven't experienced equally on land. Luckily, helping eachother today just entailed little things; I helped Riley untangle a snarl and he helped me by setting all of the 'short' (undersized) lobsters aside in a basket for me to measure (normally they'd throw straight back in the water).

It was a productive day. Perhaps next time I ask Riley for a trip, he won't hesitate to say 'yes'.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

A Day on the Water with Freddie

Today was a long déjà vous of my fishing days. Almost 7 years have passed since I signed on with Cap full-time in Nov 2009. I have come full circle, around the outer rim of Georges Bank and back. I’ve landed about half an hour from my home port. I now work just 2 peninsulas to the westward in Boothbay Harbor. Even as coordinator of the state’s lobster monitoring program I still find my head in the bait barrel. As it was today, in a barrel of salted pogies.

One perk to my job is that I get to assign trips to lobster samplers, including myself. So, naturally, I claimed my home port to cover for lobster sampling. This weekend I called a few of my local fisherman friends and, sure enough, Freddie said he’d be pleased to take me fishing today.

When I pulled into the parking lot at the town landing at 5am, my first familiar thought was wondering if I’d be able to pick out the captain and boat in the dark. But there was Freddie on his boat on the mooring. I gathered my sampling gear and headed for the dock. Sure 'nough, in pulled Cap right behind me! When I approached him in the dark, hoping not to startle him, he was waffling on whether it was worth burning the fuel to get to his traps when he wasn’t going to find much in them. I recognized his contemplative stalling. I gave him a big hello and a firm handshake. He seemed surprised and pleased to see me.

Freddie greeted me with his familiar thick Maine drawl “Hey girrrrrl!” He ran up to carry my basket of gear down the ramp even though I could get it. His first remark was (still) that he didn’t see a diamond on my hand yet. The comment cuts a little more at age 31 than it did at age 21, but I know it’s well-intended. He wants me to find a good man who will take care of me.

Freddie and I had a great day of catching up. He goes single-handed, so I acted as his sternlady for the day, measuring lobsters and making relevant notes as I worked. I filled bait bags, baited the traps, measured and banded lobsters just like the good ol’ days. Except this time I was a scientist collecting biological data as well as a sternlady. At one point during the day, Freddie’s friend pulled up alongside us to chat and Joe asked if I was a sternlady (yes, he used that word) or an observer. And I enthusiastically said “Both!” Joe replied “Good for you,” smiling at my enthusiasm no doubt. I was enthusiastic, because the position fulfills both my love of working on the water as well as my intellectual needs. It’s a nice blend of science and fishing.

Another local friend, Craig, called Freddie on the radio, curious to see another body on Freddie's boat. I saw Craig’s boat off by Pond Island and was amazing that he spotted me on the deck from that distance. Not even the slightest change gets by fisherman. Freddie explained that it was me and that I was “working like hell.” Craig said “Oh, yeah, and she’s a good-looking girl too!” Even though I’m not married and popping out kids, at least I'm still considered an eligible bachelorette. 

9:00 am rolled around and Freddie presented me with a nutty bar and gingerale that I adamantly refused since it was his lunch, but he said he’d be offended if I didn’t eat them, so I obliged. We are equal parts stubborn, but offending a friend is my limit (and he knew it). Then noon approached and he kicked the boat out of gear, producing an extra bologne sandwich and another soda for me. He brought twice his usual food to share with me! I couldn’t say no, but insisted that he have some birthday cake that my mom packed for me. We had quite a feast.

All aspects of the day were familiar including the soul-soothing views of a clear summer day in The Sound and the thrill when Freddie declared the long day as over. We steamed into the harbor straight to the dock where Fred’s brother bought our lobsters, greeting and leaving us with a friendly nod and choosing his few words well. Freddie wanted to give me some lobsters to take home if he couldn’t pay me for the day and I had the valid protestation that the state doesn’t condone gifts. I calmed him by accepting some cucumbers that he grew. He then insisted on carrying my basket back up to the truck and we greeted his parents who were parked at the landing watching the goings on of their sons as they do every day. Not a bad way to pass time.

Thank God that some things never change. Life has a way of working out just fine.

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Full Circle

It's hard to believe that it was six years ago that I was lobstering by day and writing this blot by night. A lot has happened in the past six years: a Master's degree, a life on Cape Cod, becoming a PhD student and, lately, returning home to midcoast Maine to continue my career. And yet so little has changed.

Lo and behold, today I found myself back aboard Cap's boat. This time I was a sternlady in a different capacity: a scientist. Surely my role didn't appear any different. I was wearing my lobster uniform: ripped sweatshirt with my dad's old wool fishing coat over it, ragged ball cap with ponytail protruding and orange oilers. I was still handling bait on occasion and measuring lobsters. The lobster buyer even mistook me for a second deckhand when we docked and I helped unload the catch.

Yet my role today was as an observer. I cringe to use that term since it conjures the controversial role of federal observers. Instead, my position is to monitor the lobster population in state waters. I have no business with policy or enforcement and I intend to keep it that way. But my job is truly to observe. "That's what scientists do, after all," my father pointed out matter-of-factly when I expressed my discomfort with the term. "They observe things."

I tried to help out Cap's sternman throughout the day when I finished measuring lobsters. Cap has had the same sternman since I left. And he likely has the same phone number as the one scribbled on the scrap of paper that I handed Cap on my last day. His strong back, quick muscle memory and attention to detail proved that he has carried out the job excellently. It was reassuring to see that Cap has such good help.

I literally came full circle. As the lobster boats pirouette around buoys all day long, I feel that we haven't moved forward much. In some sense I'm right where I started and yet I've made some progress toward my goal. I'm attempting to bridge the gap between science and industry -- between study and practice, between observation and application -- through collaborative research. Cap's boat is a great place to start. But my efforts will extend far beyond that familiar deck, north to the Canadian border and south to the New Hampshire line. I'll be working with many other Caps from here on out. And I look forward to the adventures that this job will bring. I think I'm ready for it. I'm right where I should be.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Shrimp Radio Show

Here's the radio show Coastal Conversations on the shrimp fishery that I was interviewed on January 22, 2016: http://archives.weru.org/coastal-conversations/2016/01/coastal-conversations-12216/

Saturday, December 5, 2015

To Trawl or not to Trawl?

I have to admit that I find it frustrating when people say that “trawling is bad.” Like many issues, black-and-white ethical statements such as this do not do the topic of habitat impacts justice.

As the daughter of a former groundfisherman, my family’s income depended on otter trawling when I was growing up, so perhaps that has influenced my perspective on trawling. I think the issue of benthic impacts from trawling is much more complex than it is often portrayed. As several studies have demonstrated (Kostylev et al. 2005, Lindholm et al. 2004, Lokkeborg 2005), dragging influences different habitat types in different ways and to different degrees. While dragging might have detrimental effects on complex habitat with rocky substrate, the effects may be negligible when compared with natural disturbance on dynamic, unstable sandy bottom.

Think about it in terms of the terrestrial environment. If a big net was swept across the Sahara Desert and the old growth forests of northern California, do you think it would have the same effect on these ecosystems? Of course not. The vertical structure and the ecological resilience of these habitat types is completely different and therefore you would expect the effects of trawling these areas to be quite different. The old growth forest is a relatively stable environment that has taken centuries to establish and so the effects of trawling would be significant. However, the desert represents an unstable substrate subject to high levels of natural disturbance (wind and heat), and the impact would likely be impacted relatively low. This diversity of terrestrial habitat impact is not unlike the marine environment.

Furthermore, it is extremely difficult to quantify the effect of trawling on benthic communities. Successful studies have only been able to do this in benign coastal environments, since the task demands either divers or cameras both of which require ideal conditions. We attempted to quantify incidental mortality of scallops and dredge impacts on sandy bottom in Southern New England using a ROV and an AUV in 2014. Despite the shallow water (~30 fm), calm sea conditions, and low currents it was nearly impossible to 1.) tow over the area that was surveyed pre-dredging, 2.) to locate the dredge path after towing and 3.) to accurately quantify the difference let alone yield consistent results. Further complicating the matter was the question of whether the pre-tow survey was representative of untowed conditions? Unlikely, since this area is regularly fished. What then do you quantify as "unimpacted" seafloor? It is not as straightforward of a study as one may think when reading the literature.

So the next time that you hear someone declare that dragging is inherently detrimental or even hear scientists confidently state dredge impact statistics, think twice about the issue and be aware that it's more complicated than some let on.

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