CONSIDER THE EEL

 

Consider the American eel.

I stole the title for this post from author Richard Schweid, who published the book, Consider the Eel:  A Natural and Gastronomic History, over two decades ago.  But the truth is, eels really do deserve some consideration, as both a highly evolved species of fish with a fascinating natural history, and as a troubled diadromous species that is finding itself increasingly stressed as time goes on.

When I was a boy during the 1960s, fishing from shore, from docks, and from boats along the Greenwich, Connecticut coast, eels were everywhere, and not particularly respected.  Back then, before striped bass became a fish for the masses, most casual saltwater anglers in our part of the world—folks like my own family—were bottom fishermen trying to bring home some food. 

Our primary target was winter flounder which, despite their name, were available all through the summer, although their numbers thinned out a bit during the dog days of August.  Depending on where we were fishing and the time of the year, our sandworm-baited hooks sometimes also attracted blowfish (a/k/a “northern puffer”), porgies (more properly, “scup”), blackfish (properly called “tautog”), tomcod, smelt, spot (we called them “Lafayettes”), northern kingfish, young-of-the-year “snapper” bluefish, and a host of undesirables, including bergalls (more formally, “cunner”), “sundials” (windowpane flounder), oyster toadfish, sea robins, smooth dogfish, and such.

But mostly, aside from the flounder, we caught eels.

Lots and lots of eels.

If we fished anywhere near a sod bank, on a mud flat, or in a shallow channel, at any time between late April and mid-October, the eels often far outnumbered the flounder.  They often snatched the small killifish that we used to catch the young snapper blues that flooded the creeks, harbors, and coves just before the start of a new school year signaled summer’s end.  And when an eel grabbed the inch-long piece of sandworm that we had impaled on the small “flounder hooks” designed to fit into the flatfish’s tiny mouth, it often swallowed the hook deep down in its gut before the angler ever knew it was there.

And that was more than a little problematic, because, for the most part, we didn’t want to take the eels home.

That wasn’t a universal sentiment, of course.  Eels were always a valued foodstuff in Europe, and many of the more recent immigrants, largely from Poland and Italy, and perhaps also the first generation born in this land, tpp, still ate eels as a matter of course.  But among everyone else, they had a somewhat unsavory reputation, partly because of their slimy, snakelike bodies and partly because eels aren’t too choosy about what they choose to dine on.

Back in those days, when sewage treatment was far less advanced than it is today, one of the best places to catch a bucketful of eels (“bucketful” being more of an expression than an accurate description, for if one tried to fill a bucket with eels, it wouldn’t take long before the ones on the top of the pile would begin to climb out and start crawling around the boat, dock, or shore, seeking a way back into the water) was in front of the sewage treatment plant discharge at Grass Island, a Greenwich town park, which also hosts the town’s sewage treatment facility.  Yes, you would have to deal with all of the paper flooding out of the pipe getting caught on your hook, but that seemed a small price to pay when you were a 9- or 10-year old boy seeking to catch a bunch of eels while enjoying the warmth of the midsummer sun (and yes, we always did give those eels away).

But while eels’ affinity for sewer discharges was certainly a turnoff for many, it was the eel’s sense of smell, and how it was used, that was the source of the greatest disgust.  For an eel has the keenest sense of smell in the ocean, it uses that sense of smell to find food and, at times, that food took the form of the bodies of drowning victims. 

When I was growing up, hanging around the town dock on warm summer evenings, I often heard the old timers on the waterfront talking about “the eels coming out” when drowned men’s bodies were dragged from the water.  I didn’t think about too much about those tales until one April afternoon in 1968, when I was fishing off the Grass Island riprap and heard a commotion from the boat launching ramp.  Curious, I walked over, and saw police and some other people pulling something which, I was shocked to realize, was a body, out of the water.  I later learned that someone had committed suicide the previous winter, jumping off the wall into Greenwich Harbor and, as the waters warmed, his body floated to the surface, where someone noted an arm sticking out from under the dock.

And yes, the eels began to come out.

When word of that sort of thing gets out, it can really hurt eels’ reputation as a food fish.

Thus, as the tide of eastern and southern European immigrants, who began to flow into this country around the start of the 20^th Century, waned, and the descendants of those immigrants largely integrated into the United States’ population, the popularity for eels as food has waned as well.  According to the National Marine Fisheries Service, anglers landed just 31,000 American eels in 2024, down from a peak of 680,000 in 1982, and it’s not clear how many of those 31,000 eels were caught for food, and how many would be used as bait for striped bass, cobia, and other popular recreational species.

Commercial landings show a similar trend, with landings peaking at just under 4 millon pounds in 1979, compared to just under 91,000 pounds in 2024.  The nature of commercial eel landings has changed as well, with most of the eel landings intended for export, not domestic consumption.  About 10,000 pounds of the exported eels consist of tiny “glass eels” transitioning from their larval to juvenile form, which regularly sell for well over $1,000 per pound.

Unfortunately, while some of the decrease in recreational and commercial landings can be attributed to a decline in demand, much of the decrease is probably due to the fact that eels are far less common than they used to be.  The 2023 benchmark stock assessment notes that

“American eels were formerly extremely abundant in inland waters of eastern North America, occupying lakes, rivers, streams, and estuaries…

“There is substantial evidence that the American eel stock is reduced from historic levels.  The cause for the reduction is a combination of habitat impacts and fishing pressure.  In the last half of the 20^th century, a suite of stressors including habitat loss from dams or urbanization, turbine mortality, the nonnative swim bladder parasite Anguillicolla, toxic pollutants, non-native fish species, and climate change are all factors that act in concert with fishing mortality on American eel.  The American eel does not have a federal US protected status.  It has been on the [International Union for the Conservation of Nature’s] endangered list since 2013.  [citations omitted]”

 There was an effort to list the American eel under the federal Endangered Species Act, but in February 2007, the United States Fish & Wildlife Service decided against a listing, saying, in part that

“we find that the American eel remains widely distributed over their vast range including most of their historical freshwater habitat, eels are not solely dependent on freshwater habitat to complete their lifecycle utilizing marine and estuarine habitats as well, they remain in the millions, that recruitment trends appear variable but stable, and that threats acting individually or in combination do not threaten the species at a population level.  On the basis of the best scientific and commercial information, we conclude that the American eel is not likely to become an endangered species within the foreseeable future throughout all or a significant portion of its range and is not in danger of extinction throughout all or a significant portion of its range.  Therefore, listing of the American eel as threatened or endangered is not warranted.”

Unfortunately, determining the status of the American eel stock is a very difficult thing to do.  The 2023 benchmark assessment stated that

“The primary model used in the assessment…does not allow the determination of stock or fishery status with respect to traditional [maximum sustainable yield]-based biological reference points.  The evaluation of the coastwide index, presented by the [Stock Assessment Subcommittee], does indicate the stock has declined.  The Review Panel concludes that the term ‘depleted’ is appropriate to describe the stock biomass for the yellow eel stage.  This is a qualitative term used only as a descriptor and not as a determinant of status.”

So, the American eel is probably not doing too well, but just how “not well” isn’t completely clear. 

In an effort to provide the eel with some level of protection, Panama and the European Union proposed listing both the American eel (Anguilla rostrata) and the related Japanese eel (Anguilla japonica) on Appendix II to the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, more commonly known as “CITES”.  The issue was placed on the agenda of the CITES meeting held earlier this month.

As part of the explanation of why such a listing was needed, the proposal noted, in part,

“Historically, A. japonica was the primary species supplying East Asian eel farms, but declines in this species led to increased reliance on A. anguilla [the European eel] and A. rostrata, particularly in farms in China.  Following the inclusion of A. anguilla in Appendix II and the introduction of trade restrictions by the European Union in 2010, combined with catastrophic declines (>90%) in recruitment of this species, A. rostrata has become a key source of juvenile eels to supply the farms in recent years…A recent analysis of East Asian customs datasets highlighted that glass eel and elver imports from the region from the Americas increased from 2 tonnes in 2004 to 157 tonnes in 2022…The United States of America…and Canada have domestic management frameworks in place for A. rostrata.  Across the Caribbean nations where the majority of glass eels in the Caribbean region are harvested (Dominican Republic, Cuba, and Haiti), there is a less consistent approach to regulatory measures.

“A. japonica and A. rostrata were categorized as Endangered in 2018 and 2020 IUCN Red List assessments, respectively, on the basis of declines in abundance of approximately 50% across their respective ranges over three generation lengths…”

An Appendix II listing would neither prohibit the harvest of American eels, nor prohibit them from being purchased and sold internationally.  However, such listing would require that the exporter’s nation provide an export permit, which may only be issued if the eels (or other Appendix II-listed species) were legally obtained, and their export won’t threaten the species’ survival.

Even such modest restrictions on trade in American eels met with significant opposition, with not only members of the seafood industry, but also the governments of the United States, China, and Japan speaking against the Appendix II listing.  One big North American eel dealer went so far as to characterize CITES as

“an international body dominated by volunteer scientists and unelected bureaucrats,”

while a coalition of fishing industry organizations in China, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan argued that the allegation that international trade was leading to a decline in American eel populations was

“not supported by sufficient evidence.”

The opposition was strong enough to successfully prevent CITES from approving the listing.

That result was decried by conservation groups such as the Wildlife Conservation Society, which announced that

“CITES Parties Miss a Chance to Ensure a Future for Endangered Eels,”

and went on to say that

“WCS is deeply disappointed that Parties to the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) failed to support Proposal 35 to list all Anguillid eels, including the American eel (Anguilla rostrata) on CITES Appendix II…The proposal, submitted by the European Union and its 27 Member States and Panama, was unfortunately defeated today at the CITES meeting.  There were strong lobbying interests against this scientifically sound effort to regulate the global eel trade…

“The decision leaves this iconic migratory fish—already threatened by overfishing, illegal trade, habitat fragmentation from dams, pollution, disease, and climate change—without the international oversight urgently needed to support recovery and prevent further decline…

“WCS urges governments to continue advancing science-based policies and international cooperation to conserve the American eel and indeed all anguillid species.  The fate of these extraordinary fish reflects the health of our rivers, coasts, and oceans—and the consequences of inaction will be felt far beyond their waters.”

So, the American eel remains much where it began the 21^st century—ignored by many, and unloved by most who cross its path.  Here in the United States, it enjoys better protections than it had when the century began, but it also is facing challenges that were notably less severe 25 years ago.

The plain fact is that, to the general public, the American eel lacks the charisma of a bluefin tuna, white shark, or Atlantic salmon—or even the humble menhaden—and lacks the benefits—including the public relations campaigns—that such charisma supports.

That’s unfortunate.

The American eel deserves a little consideration, too.