Decoys at the auction.

At the festival I also tested my skill shooting a full quiver of six arrows with a modern bow. This brief introduction was a lot more challenging that I anticipated. The tension of the bow as you draw your elbow back is quite strong. The instructor, a friendly, round gentleman dressed all in camo-gear, insisted that I use good form, and press the taught bow-wire against my cheek, so that I could easily look through the ‘peek-hole’ at my target, a pockmarked styrofoam fox. Although my arm was shaky by the last arrow, the instructor complimented my “nice grouping” of arrows in the fox’s shoulder.

Introduction to archery at the Decoy Festival. I shot that styrofoam fox!

After several hours perusing the beautiful carved birds at dozens of vendors, I started to wonder what it meant for a small part of local culture focus so much energy and money on the industry of making and collecting wooden ducks. Most of the people perusing the decoys for sale appeared to be duck hunters – older gentlemen wearing camouflage – or their wives looking for holiday gifts. The festival did have a few beautiful (living) ducks on display outside – most memorably, a beautiful Canvasback, which has a roan head and neck, a black beak and chest, and a creamy, canvas-colored back and wings.

Redheaded duck. Photo by Just Chaos, found on Flickr.

Seeing the living originals, and their likenesses re-created with infinite variation at the festival, helped me to appreciate the finer craftsmanship of several vendors. Although I do not personally agree with hunting for sport, I hope that the celebration of the art of decoy carving is in a way a celebration of the beauty of dozens of species of birds. I also hope that this energy at the festival could be harnessed and turned towards conservation efforts for the hunted and beloved birds. With this in mind, I would suggest that the festival would be a good outreach opportunity for Ducks Unlimited, a wetland habitat conservation organization founded by sports hunters. Even without an environmental message, I am optimistic that an event such as the Decoy Festival would at least inspire visitors to spend more time looking for the birds that sit replicated beautifully in wood on their bookshelves.

Pair to be auctioned - not sure if they're redheaded or canvasbacks, but they're lovely.

To start, you should know there is an important difference between the salty, algae-ish, and sometimes-fishy smell particular to sea creatures recently pulled from the water, and the odor of rotting meat. When we stepped out of the car on a dirt lane in Milbridge, we could smell how close we were to our destination – a sea-cucumber processing plant – based on the intensity of the latter odor.

My boss Aaron and I were visiting the facility for reasons almost entirely unrelated to sea cucumbers: Aaron was helping arrange for some hook-baiting labor and freezer space from the owner of the facility for a fisherman in his fishing sector (As a refresher, the Sector is a fishing co-operative – a group of several fisherman united by gear type, geography, or in the case of the Sector that Aaron manages, a philosophy of sustainable fishing practices).

Sea cucumbers are squishy, filter-feeding echinoderms, and are a favorite at aquarium touch-tanks due to some species’  habit of vomiting their lungs as a deterrent to predators, when provoked (or poked). They are also an important export for the few processors in the U.S. that still exist today, who ship the majority of the product to Asia. While showing us around the work floor, the foreman of the facility said, “Everything goes to China – they’ll eat anything there.”  In fact sea cucumbers are also important in the human and pet joint-supplement market. (Penobscot East Resource Center shares a building with a store specializing in these goods, the  Coastside Bio Resources)

The facility had about thirty Latin American employees working through bins upon bins of sea cucumbers – or pickles, as the foreman called them. Fans were moving the air, but it was still heavy with the smell of sea-animals which had been out of the water for a few hours. Each brownish-gray sea cucumber does in fact resemble in size and shape a large Kosher pickle. They are brought to the front of the work line in 130-pound open boxes by forklift. Each worker slices off the end of the pickle, and then cuts it along the body like they are opening a baked potato. The worker then clips one edge of the skin under a vice-grip (resembling the clip of a clipboard), and scrapes the meat off the tough skin. The meat slides into one box, and the skin is thrown into another: as I watched each pickle took less than 30 seconds to process.

The facility runs with the markets: during the boom-and-bust sea urchin gold rush of the 90’s, the plant was processing buckets of green urchins, sending the roe to – you guessed it, China. The high quality product and high prices encouraged a rush of urchin divers to jump into the market before fishery management regulations could catch up to the damage being done to the ecology. Within 15 years, green urchins had been extirpated from even the most well-populated ledges all along coastal Maine’s rocky shores. Soon the kelp forests grew with abandon, unmitigated by the balancing force of the herbivorous urchins.

(Here’s an aside: The urchin story serves as a tale of the damage  that an environmental gold-rush can do to a resource. It also provides support to the defensive arguments levied by scallop draggers against scallop divers. Scallop draggers pull a heavy grate along the ocean bottom to commercially harvest scallops and are often criticized as using a highly traumatic collection method. Draggers will argue that they cannot drag in rocky and boulder areas, which provides a protected spawning area for scallop populations to rebuild. Draggers will also argue that while they get blamed for decimating scallop populations, unregulated scallop divers can be even more detrimental, because divers can go to rocky areas where draggers can’t, and harvest those key, spawning scallops. I don’t have a good conclusion to this argument, but it is important to be aware that there is no simple answer to what is the best, and what is the worst method to harvest a resource. Learn more at this great July 7th post on an interesting blog called ‘Lobsters on the Fly.’)

The foreman moved on to describe the next animal that most recently kept the facility running: hagfish. The notoriously slimy and nightmare-faced fish is known by introductory-biology students as one of the evolutionarily older species. To this processing facility, it brought Mike Rowe of the TV show ‘Dirty Jobs’ to join them at work. (While you can’t watch the episode for free, you can find it streaming on Netflix (Collection 3, Episode 9), or get an idea of what hagfish are like from this short clip.

After hearing about the previous species that had moved through this facility, we walked to a small room where a few other workers were stuffing pieces of meat into large, plastic-mesh bags, and throwing the bags into what looked like clothes-washing machines – similar to how one might wash ladies’ delicates. The foreman joked, ‘We put them in on the gentle cycle,’ as he showed us to where they process the skins. After it is washed the meat is vacuum-sealed into two-pound, gold-foil-trim bags, and sent off to China. When asked if he’d ever tasted sea cucumber, the foreman smiled and said it was pretty good, and kind of like clam, but chewier.

The tour continued to a room separated by a low glass window from the work floor. Back here, I could see an enormous bubbling vat, where the protein from the cooking skins boiled up into a healthy foaming layer on the top. As we talked, a figure in the cooking room stirred the skins that were cooling and draining on enormous wire trays. The foreman walked us back across the plant to show us the final part of the process for the cooked and drained skins.  With a bit of ceremony, he swung open the door to an enormous dryer cabinet, and immediately I was hit with a wave of dried-sea cucumber air, as if I were standing under the exhaust of a bus running on dried clams and seaweed.  The skins were arranged in smaller wire racks, and stacked on rolling dollies in the drying room. Even though I hesitated when he asked if I have a dog, he handed me a piece of premium sea cucumber jerky – black, and slightly bendy like a dried pig’s ear chew toy. It looked like dog poo that had been in the sun for a while, but it smelled just as one can imagine a dried sea-creature would. What could be a better souvenir?

(Although I didn’t get my own picture of the dried cucumber, the above link gives a good idea what it looks like. The linked website shows one way some seafood products move globally.)

Lupines!

Lupines on a hillside - they're everywhere!

I’m trying to hit every nature preserve on the island – the Island Heritage Trust (I’ve mentioned them before) maintain several beautiful trails. On Saturday (the 18th), I visited Pine Hill preserve – a short and steep scrabble up to a great view of Deer Isle. It’s rather foreboding to visit, because the start of the trail is well shaded by trees – but it’s worth the hike.

Pine Hill Preserve sign and entrance....is deceptively creepy-looking.

Pine Hill, before I scramble up it. Clearly a favorite hangout of local kids.

View of Bridge from top of Pine Hill.

View of causeway to Deer Isle from Pine Hill.

Sunday brought perfect breezy weather. I explored another trail, the Crockett Cove preserve on the southwest part of Deer Isle. It is described as a “fog forest” and even recommends visiting on a wet day, when the lichens are brighter and the mosses are greener. Today was gorgeous, breezy, and sunny blue skies – and the trails were still lovely. Everything was blanketed in moss and lichen, even the enormous boulders left by the glaciers that are responsible for Maine’s creative and rocky coastlines. I spent longer than I’d have liked due to imprecise mapping from the Nature Conservancy, but it was a good walk nonetheless.

Crockett Cove Woods - beautiful, but needs more signs (besides this one).

Crockett Cove woods - gorgeous and covered in moss.

Shelving mushroom on my hike.

Crockett Woods panorama.

The trails were nice, but the best part of the weekend was my flight with Penobscot Island Air for birds-eye view of Deer Isle.

Ready to get up in the air!

Steve, the pilot, has been flying for many years, and before starting up with the island touring company, he even worked as an instructor. That, and the rave review of the flight from the last flight’s guest erased any concerns I had about jumping into the tiny plane.

Steve the pilot, as we start our flight.

Classic cockpit self-portrait, ready for take off.

Steve helped get me and my plane-mates settled: three generations of Deer Isle natives. The youngest wore an adorable lobster jacket (why doesn’t L.L. Bean make them in my size?) and pointed out a lot of water and islands during the flight. The dad and grand-dad helped me to locate the rental house from the air, which is more difficult that you’d think.  Rooftops start to look the same from 1,000 feet.

Bridge to Deer Isle.

Bridge and channels of Deer Isle.

Blue Hill, from the air.

Crotch Island Granite Quarry from the air.

Crotch Island Granite Quarry from the air.

Stonington Harbor, from the air.

It was a great flight, and I took some fun videos – noisy because of the engine.

That’s it for now! Sorry I’m so far behind….hope more posts to follow soon.

On the last post, I wrote about my first big trip during my time working here at Penobscot East Resource Center. While the PFEX was an exciting experience – and refreshing to see the actual fish I talk about all day, every day – the trip was primarily about attending a Fleet Vision workshop organized by the New England Fisheries Management Council. It was my first experience with the complex and unending political mess that is fisheries management – but it was also a great experience, meeting several people from all over the fisheries universe.

The meeting was held in beautiful Danvers, Massachusetts, a stone’s throw in any direction to the water a recreational sailing vessels crowding the picturesque harbors. Meandering around the area – amazing traffic and bizarre disorganized streets made for exciting driving – it was a perfect sunny day and wonderful to see the lovely houses. Several of the classic Cape Cod-style homes have colorful color schemes, with contrast-painted shutters in pretty blues and greens. Given the history – no, even better,  the name of that style – it is pleasant and somewhat rewarding to see that every other home had a brass codfish fixed above the door.

Vision Workshop

The conference broke attendees into working groups who were tasked with articulating a part of the Council’s longterm vision of New England’s fisheries. As a lowly intern, I was allowed to “participate” (sit in on) one of the working groups for audience members.  My group had a diverse assortment of people – members of fisherman’s associations, National Marine Fisheries Service staff, research institutions, and a few fishermen. Everyone brought their own thoughts nd frustrations to the conversation. One of the astounding facets of the workshop experience was how difficult it is to agree to wording even some of what appear to be “simple” concepts. One part of NEFMC’s prospective vision is for a “diverse” fishing fleet.

Let me say that it is not easy to define “diverse” when it means different things to different stakeholders. To a small-boat fisherman, the goal of a “diverse” fleet means there should be rules in place to help support his business and not favor his competitors.  A long-line fisherman may think that diversity is about making sure that the trawl boats do not dominate the market over his hook-caught product. And someone who owns several fishing boats of different sizes would would be concerned if “diversity” threatens a business with owner-operator rules – that is, rules that prevent accumulation of fishing permits and allocated catch under one owner and several vessels.

If that didn’t frighten you, consider that I just mentioned three very different opinions from three different types of fishermen – we didn’t even get to the stakeholders such as environmental organizations, political groups, or government agencies that all want to have their say.

It was a long day, and some of it I admit was difficult to follow. It was definitely an eye-opener for how these meetings go.  I now expect the next NEFMC meeting I attend (coming up at the end of June!) to be both terribly boring – a lot of abstract conversation on defining terms and stakeholders’ needs – and at the same time, very exciting. I’ve told family that going to the NEFMC meeting feels like stepping onto the big kids’ playground: This is where decisions are made; it is the management venue I’ve been studying in school for years. It’s nice to be on the ground and seeing the action happening around me. I’ll let you know if the big kids start throwing sand at each other.

1. I had a brief tour of the Portland Fish Exchange (PFEX), a fish auction house.

2. I attended a New England Fisheries Management Council workshop on building a vision for the management of New England’s fleets and fisheries. (coming in the next post, I promise)

I know, impressive, right?

To explain the first visit to PFEX, you must first understand the basic fish-supply chain, or how fish moves from fishing vessel to your plate. When fishermen come in to port with a hold full of their catch, they generally steam in to an auction house in one of the nearest ports. PFEX handles thousands and thousands of pounds of fish a day, everything from groundfish (as I’ve previously discussed) to monkfish to halibut (big and beautiful!) and bait fish (like herring and their relatives).  A fisherman literally drives their ship up to the auction house, located on a pier, and the fish are moved into the building to be sorted, weighed, measured and graded into size classes. The fish are put on display in ice, and dealers come in to bid on fish, depending on their needs. Some dealers focus on the quality of the catch, while others need to meet a specific price point. Dealers looking for the highest quality product will often look to hook-and-line fishermen, because fish caught this way get handled the least, which makes for the nicest looking filets that high-end restaurants usually demand.

Whatever they’re looking for, fish are bought by dealers that then turn around and send the fish on to the next venue. Some work as coordinators, sending fish directly to restaurants, while others send it on to larger distributors or processors that may “add value” (breading + spices = frozen fishsticks) or simply send them on to supermarkets and other retailers.

At PFEX I had the chance to walk the auction house cutting floor (no pictures, sorry). The space is kept quite cold, so walking around in my sandals and a t-shirt was less than ideal – but I didn’t mind: we walked through aisles of stacked fish boxes filled with glistening fish. Before moving on to a supermarket or a restaurant, most fish (like cod and haddock) will be gutted, but their heads and tails left on. Other fish, like monkfish (known for their unique and cuddly looks) are usually gutted and beheaded, to save on weight, since there isn’t much of a market for their heads. Flatfish like flounder and halibut usually make it to land whole.

After the cold and informative visit to PFEX, we moved on south to some beautiful suburbs outside of Boston.

That’s enough for one post, I think. In explaining all this, I hope you will think of the traveling your filet did before it arrives on your plate as fish ‘n chips!

__

Federal Fisheries

Our country’s federal fisheries are managed by eight regional management councils that oversee the marine resources in federal waters, 3 to 200 miles from shore.  The New England Fisheries Management Council (NEFMC) provides management plans for New England’s fisheries.

I won’t dive deep into the history of fisheries off the New England coast, so let’s say that it has been a rough couple of decades. (For more background, I highly recommend Mark Kurlansky’s ‘Cod: the biography of the fish that changed the world’  - it’s a quick read and gives great historical context).

History of New England Fisheries

In the 1990’s the groundfish populations crashed after centuries of overfishing and damaging fishing practices, sending coastal communities’ economies down a troubled path. There is a lot of fishing industry history that is very interesting, but you would all jump ship now if I tried describing that. To cut to the chase, the NEFMC recently passed a new rule which is meant to allow fishermen to better plan their fishing season, by joining together into a ‘sector’ – a kind of co-op system where fishermen can pool their annual catch entitlement (the total weight of each fish species they may catch, each year).

Sectors

The sector system has attracted about 98% of the active owners of groundfish permits. Fishermen who do not join a sector can still fish under an open-access permit, but are subject to several restrictions, including the number of days they spend fishing  (also called ‘Days At Sea’). Generally speaking, the sector system shifts regulations away from the amount of time spent at sea, and focuses on the amount of fish caught. Although it is far from perfect, sectors allows more flexibility for fishermen to better plan their business, which makes for safer fishing and reduces by-catch of unwanted or un-sellable fish.

So, why should you care about all that?

Here in Deer Isle, I am working for the Northeast Coastal Communities Sector (NCCS) one of several sectors based in the northeast. Members of this sector are mostly hook-and-line groundfish fishermen, who want to protect their industry, and the natural resources that sustain it. Groundfish, if you don’t know, is a category of the famous and tasty fish that were the foundation of many New England coastal communities for centuries. They include the delicious, steaming, New England-chowder celebrities: Atlantic cod, haddock, and hake. Included also are pollock, redfish, and a smorgasbord of flatfish: yellowtail, winter, and witch flounders and plaice (another flounder).

Okay, great, fish. So….what exactly are you doing, then?

So,  what is my role in this whirlwind of information? Well, the sector is young and has room to grow. To be brief, my main project this summer is to develop a “sustainability plan” for the sector’s long-term development.  Jargon aside, I am responsible for articulating the sector’s goals and writing the plan for how to get there. This includes planning how to expand markets that our sector members can access, and looking for ways to bring more money to the fishermen for their product.

Am I intimidated? Yes.

Is this a super-cool chance to help achieve a secure and thriving fishing industry in New England? Yes!

__

Oof. If you made it this far, I applaud you. If you have any questions, I will happily try to answer them as best I can. Thanks for reading!

As a reward for getting to the end of this post, here is a picture from a recent storm front as it moved in fast over the harbor in Stonington.

Storm coming in over Stonington Harbor.

Hannah and Damien acquired a little green dinghy, which will be key for getting between their moored sailboat, and the shore. After work last week, we went for a quick spin around the harbor. Here are some photos from our quick adventure! Isn’t it pretty? (It’s nice when the weather cooperates.)

We visited a little spit of land in the Stonington Harbor.

Stuff grows on rocks.

"We claim this land and we will call it....this land!" - a panorama.

Panorama from the harbor looking back at the village of Stonington.