We’ve all heard the story of The Boy Who
Cried “Wolf!” It’s a time-tested
parable warning of the risks of creating a crisis where none exists, and it’s
something that everyone who deals with conservation issues must keep in
mind. Because if we decide to say that everything
is a crisis, even when it is not, no one will believe us when a true crisis
really appears.
I kept that parable in mind a couple of weeks ago, when I
wrote a blog warning of troubles that might lie ahead for the striped bass. In many ways, that blog was premature, as it
was based on a preliminary stock assessment report that had not yet been
finalized, much less released, and on some rumors and second-hand stories that
I could not verify with any certainty.
Normally, I need more than that when I sit down to write.
I try to give all of my readers the straight scoop on
things, so I’m hesitant to base any thoughts and reporting on less-than-definitive
sources. Thus, I hemmed and hawed a bit
before writing that bass piece, and when I finally went ahead, I didn’t only
consider the boy who cried out when the wolf wasn’t there, but the other lad watching
the meadow, who just yelled “Sheep!
There’s no danger,” even though he had more than enough reason to believe that
something hungry and large was lurking, not quite seen, in the brush at the
edge of the meadow.
Crying “Sheep!” goes back a long way.
A lot of serious striped bass fishermen have been worried
that at least one wolf, and maybe quite a few more, has been stalking their
favorite fish for close to ten years, but the folks in charge of the stock kept
on telling them that everything was OK.
“…I come away this afternoon with a lot of uncertainty. I see a disease issue that we don’t have a
handle on that could make a major impact.
We hear about a law enforcement issue that could be substantial; we don’t
know. The 2008 numbers I understand are
not good.
“You have issues in the northern range that are trending down
substantially. Maine and New Hampshire,
especially Maine, a good chunk of those anglers didn’t see any striped bass
this year. I guess I don’t see things
quite as positively as some, and I think it’s time for caution. We have had a number of proposal come forward
and each one has a little impact on mortality, but I haven’t seen anything that
has combined them all…”
At the time he said that, the Management Board was debating
an addendum to the management plan that would increase the commercial
harvest. Vito Calomo, the legislative
proxy for Massachusetts, supported the increase, and tried to reassure his
colleagues on the Management Board that there was no wolf out there, and so no
need to worry, because
“[The striped bass are] in the ocean, they’re on the ocean
side, not in state waters like they have been for years. There are more people who want to open up the
EEZ because they’re in the ocean. You
take an airplane ride, you can see them in the ocean. There are people that sneak out there and
know they’re in the ocean. That is where
the majority have migrated. Reasons; I
am not the scientist; I don’t disagree with that, but they’re in the
ocean. There is an abundance of them in
the ocean…”
In the end, the commercial increase, failed to pass, but on
a tie vote, and the
issue was revived again at the May 2009 meeting. Six months later, it was finally
defeated, but even then, there were folks out there reassuring the sheep that
they were fine and all would be well.
Still, there were some good shepherds who kept scanning the
edge of the forest; in January 2011, their diligence seemed to pay off when one
wolf stepped into the open, in the form of an
update to the stock assessment, which found that recruitment of young fish into
the population had been low, and warned that, whether recruitment remained low
or returned to average levels,
“Female [spawning stock biomass] will fall below the
threshold [meaning that the stock will become overfished] by 2017 under both
recruitment scenarios.”
That was enough to convince the Management Board that there really
were threats in the offing, and in March
2011, it initiated an addendum to reduce striped bass harvest. But final action on the addendum was delayed
until November, and by then, the wolf had faded back into the forest, and it
seems that the Management Board’s memories of the threat the wolf posed had
faded away, too.
When
they met in November, many members of the Management Board suggested that since
the stock wasn’t yet overfished, and since overfishing wasn’t yet
taking place, there was no reason to take any action. Unlike federal managers who, pursuant to the Magnuson-Stevens
Fishery Conservation and Management Act, are required to take remedial
action if the stock is likely to become overfished within the next two years,
those at ASMFC have no duty to act to avert a crisis, and may wait until the
soft, smelly stuff has really and truly hit the fan before they begin to talk
about what they might have to do. As a
result, the Management Board halted all efforts to reduce harvest until after
the next stock assessment.
Before that meeting, some
members of ASMFC’s Atlantic Striped Bass Advisory Panel warned that the wolf was
still waiting, just out of sight, and advised against such delay. But other Advisory Panel members sought to
soothe the sheep, and tell them that there was no danger. They said that
harvest should be maintained at then-current levels, and cited
“a bad economy, adequate stock abundance, stable commercial landings,
more pressing management issues, natural changes in distribution,
mycobacteriosis, scare tactics, multispecies considerations, and not tripping
any of the triggers as reasons for the northern recreational problem [of low
abundance] and/or reasons for status quo.”
The notion that “no triggers were tripped” was a reference
to a provision in Amendment 6 to the Interstate
Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Striped Bass, which requires
managers to take certain actions if the health of the striped bass stock
declines.
Two of the triggers are tripped if the stock becomes
overfished, or if overfishing occurs.
But there are also two triggers that trip when the situation is less
dire.
One requires the Management Board
to reduce fishing mortality if it finds that the fishing mortality rate is
above the target (but not the threshold) for two consecutive years, and the
female spawning stock biomass drops below the target (but not the threshold) in
one of those years; the other requires the Management Board to draw up a plan
to rebuild the biomass to target levels within ten years, should the biomass
fall below target for two consecutive years, and fishing mortality rise above
target in one of those years.
Since Amendment 6 was adopted more than fifteen years ago,
fishery managers have assured anglers that they didn’t have to worry about the
health of the stock, because if any of those triggers were tripped, managers
would have to take action.
Things didn’t turn out that way.
When the
2013 stock assessment report was released, it turned out that the latter two
triggers, which dealt with violating the targets, but not the thresholds, had both
been tripped. The Management Board did
act to reduce fishing mortality, but made no effort to initiate a rebuilding
plan, even though Amendment 6 clearly required that they do so.
And that brings us to where we are today.
As I noted in this blog two weeks ago, the striped bass
assessment for 2018 suggests that bass are facing problems. Two different models indicate that the stock
is overfished and that overfishing is taking place on the coast; they only
disagree on how severe those problems might be.
That assessment is being peer reviewed. The peer review committee has not yet issued
its report on the assessment, and it is possible—perhaps not likely, but surely
possible—that such report will either disapprove both models, or otherwise
moderate the assessment’s finding that, yes, the “stuff” has now hit the fan.
An
angler who has been long involved with striped bass conservation wrote a piece
warning fellow fishermen that not just one wolf, but a whole pack, was getting
ready to feed. It’s possible that he
was wrong, and crying “Wolf!” in vain, but there is also a very good chance
that he’s pretty much dead on target.
The reaction to what he wrote was intriguing.
A number of anglers, taking up the alarm, forwarded
his piece to their friends. At least one
used it as a base for his own video. There
was considerable buzz.
But then the sheep-soothing began.
A writer down in Maryland got onto Facebook and chided all
of the folks who started talking about the assessment, saying that it was wrong
to start discussing possible problems until the peer review report was completed
and formally released.
From the standpoint of science, that was good advice; from
the standpoint of fisheries politics, maybe not.
The folks who don’t want to see more restrictive regulations are aware of the assessment’s conclusions, too; if anglers do
nothing, those folks could have a three-month head in the fight for the hearts
and minds of the Management Board, a head start that could prove impossible to
overcome.
“early indicators do show we may be facing new management
decisions on striped bass in the very near future. But preliminary is the key word here, meaning
its probably too soon to react to sensationalism from either side just yet.
“At least until February!”
February is when the Management Board will next meet. But the peer review report itself will be out
before that, likely in early January.
Once it comes out, anglers will know where the striper stands.
If the final report confirms that the bass is
in trouble, anglers ought to be actively contacting their ASMFC reps before
the February meeting, to make sure that their views on the subject are known.
Waiting until February would give folks who aren’t so
concerned with the striper’s future months to argue, unopposed, that managers
should ignore the Amendment 6 triggers, as they ignored one of those triggers
in 2014, and not worry about a rebuilding plan.
They could use the time trying to convince Management Board members to
change the reference points that define overfishing and an overfished stock, and
so increase landings of an already overfished resource, while anglers just sat on
their hands. There has already been talk about making such changes at ASMFC.
That sort of thing should be cause for concern.
While the article contained no glaring falsehoods,
and even admitted that striped bass abundance was in a 12-year decline, its reasonable,
low-key tone seemed to hide an underlying bias.
It noted that
“There are members of the ASMFC who believe that certain
biological reference points are too conservative; for example, lowering the
target and threshold to accommodate new modeling approaches, environmental factors,
migration shifts or updated recreational harvest (MRIP) methodologies could
actually remove the ‘overfished’ and ‘overfishing’ by way of a penstroke.”
and tried to reassure anglers that
“As for the trawl surveys and where researchers collected
striped bass samples used in the overall stock analysis, questions remain as to
whether or not the spawning class fish are truly gone, or if they’ve traveled
farther east into deeper offshore grounds in the Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ)
or even into Canadian waters.”
Fair enough. That’s
all true, at least sort of (the best
evidence shows, as the article suggests, that bass that do run offshore soon
return again to state waters, while the
striped bass up in Canada come from local populations that don’t migrate far
from their natal rivers.)
But what’s missing is the other side of the equation. There are quotes from folks saying that bass
might be in the EEZ, and that there is no reason to worry, but there is no
discussion of things like the impacts of a lowered biomass target on spawning
stock structure, and no quotes from the many people who fear that we may be facing a serious problem.
In honesty, I know of fishery managers, from more than one
state, that are sending a similar message, so I can’t say the article’s message
was out of line. But it makes me uneasy.
Sleep, little sheep, you are safe, don’t you worry—and should
the wolves come, we can at least hope that they do their job fast…
That message poses a problem.
Some of us instinctively want to protect the sheep. We spend our time looking out for wolves, trying
to catch that first whiff of scent, the first stealthy sound, that first glimpse
of something not clearly seen, that warns us that danger is out there. It’s our nature to worry.
And when we see people trying, far too hard, to convince the
sheep that there’s no danger, it starts to set off alarms.
Maybe we’re wrong.
Maybe we are crying “Wolf!” just a little too often, and a little too
loud.
But folks crying “Sheep!” make us nervous. Things just didn’t go well when we heard them do that
before.
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