SPRING THOUGHTS ABOUT STRIPED BASS

 

New York’s striped bass season opened yesterday.

From what I heard, a few fish were caught, and some of those were of reasonable size, although anglers who had been fishing for and releasing their bass prior to the season opener—which is perfectly legal in New York’s marine waters—have been reporting less than stellar action in most places.

It’s difficult to say what this season will bring although, given the poor striped bass recruitment in recent years, it’s safe to say that, overall, this year’s striped bass fishing won’t be as good as last year’s, but will probably be better than anything that we’ll experience for the next decade or more.

Still, there will probably be times and places that provide some fast action, even when bass are generally scarce.  We saw that sort of thing happen in the depths of the last stock collapse during the early 1980s, when Block Island and parts of Cape Cod provided extremely good fishing for very large striped bass at a time when bass were somewhat scarcer than unicorns everywhere else.

Right now, Raritan Bay, which sits between New York and New Jersey, seems to be particularly hot.  In recent years, Raritan Bay has often provided good early-season action.  2021 was an especially good year, that saw anglers catch, and mostly release, a little over four million striped bass during March and April alone—49% of the coastwide striped bass catch during that period--over the course of about one million fishing trips, although things have slowed down since then.  Last year, New Jersey anglers only caught about 733,000 bass—42% of the coastwide total—during those two months, even though they took about 100,000 more trips in March and April than they did in 2021, a catch total that was more in line with historical norms.

The lower 2025 catch figure is significant, as it contributed to unexpectedly low striped bass catch totals in the first half of last year, which helped to convince the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission’s Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board that no further restrictions on the striped bass fishery would be needed to fully rebuild the striped bass stock by the 2029 deadline set by the management plan.

Should the Raritan Bay fishery result in striped bass catch levels seen in the early 2020s—almost certainly not the big spike of 2021, but at least levels twice that of 2025—it is very possible that the Management Board has underestimated the 2026 fishing mortality rate, and perhaps the fishing mortality rate for 2027-2029 as well, and that striped bass rebuilding will, as a result, fall short of the biomass target.

And that’s not a good thing when we already know that seven years of very poor recruitment is going to lead to low striped bass abundance in the 2030s.

Now, the big question is whether we will only have seven years of poor recruitment before striped bass spawning success returns to something close to the historical average, or whether low recruitment—and the recruitment over the past seven years has been so poor, that it is well below the level contemplated in the management plan’s “low recruitment assumption—will continue into the indefinite future.  If such “very low recruitment” scenario continues, the spawning stock biomass, which has been increasing due to the growth of the fish already in the SSB, will begin to decline in 2030 or 2031, with the depth of that decline determined by how long the very low recruitment regime lasts.

For some years, we believed that the success of striped bass spawns was solely dependent on just two factors—a cold, wet winter and a cool, moist spring.  Now, we know that things aren’t quite that simple, but I still hear quite a few anglers say that, given how cold last winter was—and it really wasn’t particularly cold, if you compare it to winters thirty or more years ago, when New York clammers regularly ventured out on a frozen Great South Bay and cut holes in the sea ice to get at the clams—they expect a very good bass spawn this year.

I truly hope that they’re right, but I expect that they’ll be disappointed.

Even if we rely solely on the old cold, wet winter/cool, moist spring formulation, once we get past the cold winter, there are reasons to be concerned.  Almost all of Maryland is experiencing drought conditions, with the United States Drought Monitor showing most of the state, including most of the state where the spawning rivers are located, under “Moderate Drought” conditions, while the lower half of the state’s western shore of the Chesapeake Bay, which includes the important Patuxent and Potomac River spawning grounds, are experiencing “Severe Drought.”

That’s hardly the sign of a cool, moist spring.

Martin Gary is the current Director of the New York Department of Environmental Conservation’s Marine Resources Division, but before he came to New York, he spent decades, beginning in the early 1980s, as a fisheries manager in Maryland, where he became intimately familiar with the factors affecting Maryland’s striped bass spawn.  In recent years, he has analyzed those factors and published his annual analysis on Facebook, to provide some insights into how the striped bass spawn might turn out.

He lists five criteria—river flow rates, water temperature, the timing of the spawn, the coincidence of the striped bass spawn with the peak abundance of the zooplankton that the young bass feed on, and predation by the blue catfish—as the factors impacting striped bass spawning success, with river flows and water temperatures the “most critical” of the five.

His thoughts on 2026 spawning success aren’t particularly encouraging.

With respect to water flows, he noted that flows in mid-March were “close to the long-term median.”  Unfortunately, such near-normal flows didn’t continue.  Instead,

“the worst case scenario has played out, with very little precipitation and plummeting flow volumes in the tributaries.  A quick glance at the USGS watershed dashboard shows nearly every monitoring station in the upper bay drainage either maroon or crimson (all below the 25^th percentile).  It’s a pretty grim picture…”

With regard to water temperature, he says,

“This year…too warm, too soon,”

although he notes that

“one positive that has me curious is the severe oscillations in temperature that we often get (warming trend and then plunging temperatures from a cold front).  Have [sic] been absent, and perhaps if we are lucky, very little mortality will occur from thermal shock to larvae.”

Based on that hope, he scores this year’s water temperatures a little higher than water flows, although still only rates it a 3 out of a possible 10.

He also doesn’t hold out too much hope with respect to the spawn’s timing, observing that peak spawning activity once occurred in May, and that in the 1960s and 1970s, bass didn’t even show up on the spawning grounds until mid-April, while a 1997 publication set the peak of the spawn in late April and early May.  Still, he while he notes that bass are spawning much earlier today, he doesn’t insist that the earlier spawn forecloses the possibility of a strong year class. 

Instead, he suggests that the earlier spawn

“raises important questions on how a warming climate may be influencing timing of the spawn and reproductive success for Striped Bass.  Timing is different now than it was decades ago, and the trend has been to an earlier peak of spawn.  Does this mean strong year classes can still be produced in these earlier windows?  If they can adapt to this earlier window, perhaps they call pull of a decent spawn this year.  If those conditions are insurmountable, it may be a bust again.  And if we do get a successful spawn and production of larval fish, the next question is even more vexing…Do they have food to eat to survive those most critical days/weeks of life?..”

Which leads to the next question:  Will the peak abundance of the zooplankton occur at the same time that the bass need them in order to survive?

That’s a difficult question.  Research shows that cold, wet winters tend to lead to larger, later zooplankton blooms, but a recent paper also suggested that even when there is enough zooplankton available, a shortened spawning season, caused by water temperatures that rise too quickly to levels fatal to eggs and larvae, could still result in a poor year class.  Mr. Gary didn’t make any firm prediction on how a possible zooplankton match/mismatch might impact the 2026 spawn, but rather chose

“to suggest that the [latter] paper provides evidence that feeding MAY NOT be the sole or dominant driver, but also express concern that that [sic] feeding is perceived as unimportant overall.  There may still be a role mismatch plays in poor recruitment years.”

Finally, there is the great unknown—the impact of blue catfish predation.  There is little hard data to suggest what that impact might be, but in Mr. Gary’s words,

“I do not pretend to know what the possible impact could be, but I believe it is not zero.”

So, in the end, what is his prediction for the 2026 spawn, remembering that last year, he predicted a Maryland juvenile abundance index of 4.0, and was just about dead on target?

“Is it possible we have dominant year class?  Possibly, but not likely.  More likely is an average to slightly above average year class if the temperature profile that warmed quickly but without severe oscillations that might favor reproductions.  But my gut tells me conditions are conducive for a weak year class, and possibly a dismal one.”

Given Mr. Gary’s long experience with Maryland striped bass, and his rational analysis of the governing factors, I’m inclined to trust his gut, and not get my hopes up.

Bass have already been seen chasing menhaden in Long Island’s Great South Bay, so the best advice I can give at this point is to get out and catch (and hopefully release) a few fish now, while the opportunity is still there.

Next year, most of the 2018s will have grown out of the slot, with little coming in to replace them.  At that point, the chances for catch-and-keep striped bass fishing will become increasingly low.  Decent catch-and-release fishing for larger bass should go on for a few years after that, but by the mid-2030s, both fishing and natural mortality will have reduced the once-large 2011 and 2015 year classes to a handful of very large fish, with the 2018s holding on for a very few years longer.

After that, the real drought will set in.

I hate to say it, but if you’ve just started bass fishing over the past three or four years, get out now, fish as much as you can, and try to enjoy it.

Because, for fishermen who never experienced the abundance of years past, these are the good old days.

 

 

 

FISHERIES SCIENCE VERSUS SENTIMENTALITY--AGAIN

 

Just last Thursday, I wrote about a bill introduced in the New York State Legislature that would outlaw octopus farming, even though there are currently no octopus farms—neither in New York nor anywhere else—and there is no data suggesting that octopus farming would create more environmental issues than any other form of open-water aquaculture for free-swimming animals of any kind.

Instead, the primary motivation for the anti-octopus farming legislation seems to be a sentimental vision of the eight-legged cephalopods, largely driven by the much-watched, award-winning movie, My Octopus Teacher—along with a lot of pressure from the animal rights community.

It was a classic example of people’s emotions getting in the way of rational decision making.

When I finalized that piece, I was pretty certain that I wouldn’t write about octopuses again—or, at least, not for a very long time—and while that is hopefully true, it seems like the conflict between fisheries science and emotional, arbitrary decision making is going to be the subject of many essays to come.

The latest example appeared on the conservation website Mongabay, where an article appeared under the remarkable headline,

“At high seas treaty summit, a dispute over fisheries managers’ role in conservation.”

I found that statement remarkable, because it can be easily argued that a fisheries manager’s primary responsibility is the conservation of fisheries under his or her jurisdiction.

The United Nations’ Food and Agriculture Organization seems to agree, as it published a Guidebook on fisheries management, which describes fisheries management as

“The integrated process of information gathering, analysis, planning, consultation, decision-making, the allocation of resources and formulation and implementation, with enforcement as necessary, of regulations or rules which govern fisheries activities in order to ensure the continued productivity of the resources and the accomplishment of other fisheries objectives.”

At the risk of stating the obvious, fisheries management is what a fisheries manager does.  And “ensur[ing] the continued productivity of the resources” sounds a lot like conservation to me.

After all, the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines “conservation” as

“a careful preservation and protection of something especially: planned management of a natural resource to prevent exploitation, destruction, or neglect  [formatting omitted],

while no less authoritative a source than the Oxford English Dictionary defines it as

“The preservation, protection, or restoration of the natural environment and of wildlife; the practice of seeking to prevent the wasteful use of a resource in order to ensure its continuing availability.  [emphasis added]”

The Food and Agriculture Organization’s description of fisheries management falls neatly within both of those definitions.  And it’s important to note that the latter definition contemplates the sustainable use of natural resources, and not merely closing them off from any sort of human access or harvest.  “Conservation” does not require complete and absolute protection.

The problem is that some people disagree, and don’t merely advocate for conservation; they want to see marine resources completely walled off from human utilization.  Their goal is not merely conservation and management—which is what United States law, in the form of the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act, provides—but complete protection as a goal in itself, whether or not there is any scientific evidence that such protection is needed.

The first two paragraphs of the Mongabay article describe that problem pretty well, in connection with a recent treaty intended to conserve worldwide marine resources:

“For conservationists, one of the major accomplishments of the high seas treaty [which was agreed to by many of the world’s nations in 2023] was that it created a means to establish marine protected areas (MPAs) in international waters.  High seas MPAs are viewed as essential to meeting the looming 2030 deadline to protect 30% of the Earth’s ocean, especially since countries have only just reached one-third of that goal.

“Now, the multilateral organizations that manage high-seas fishing, known as regional fisheries management organizations (RFMOs), are pushing to make sure that their own work is not duplicated or displaced.  Some conservationists see the RFMOs’ engagement as a way of inhibiting protection efforts, arguing that RFMOs are heavily influenced by fishing industry priorities.”

Once again, we see the insinuation that fisheries managers—or, at least, regional fishery management organizations—are not “conservationists.”  Some advocates/advocacy groups, the article tells us, claim that they “are heavily influenced by fishing industry priorities.”  But is that necessarily a bad thing, if one of those industry priorities are to keep fish stocks healthy, so that they may support sustainable—and profitable—fisheries into the foreseeable future?

Anyone who has followed the history of such RFMOs will have to admit that, at times, they fell short of taking the measures necessary to adequately conserve fish stocks, because of industry pressure.  But they will also have to admit that without them, management of highly migratory pelagic fish species would be effectively impossible, and that, in recent years, we have seen the RFMOs do some real good.  Here in the North Atlantic basin, for example, we have seen the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas preside over the rebuilding of once-depleted broadbill swordfish and bluefin tuna stocks, and recently impose a complete moratorium on landing shortfin mako sharks, in order to rebuild the population.

Those all seem like solid conservation measures to me.

On the other hand, while the various advocacy groups might throw stones at the RFMOs for being influenced by the fishing industry, they never mention how their own advocacy efforts shift focus at the whims of the big foundations that provide much of their funding.  Two decades ago, there were multiple environmental groups who were focused on Magnuson-Stevens, seeking to keep the law strong in the face of a congressional reauthorization, and when that was achieved, working hard to put conservation-oriented people on the regional fishery management councils.  Then the big funders decided that Magnuson-Stevens didn’t matter anymore, turned their back on domestic fisheries, and started putting their money into things like 30x30, while the advocacy community, which relied on the foundation money, followed right along, shrinking or eliminating their domestic fisheries staff to focus on international issues.

The regional fishery management organizations, on the other hand, stayed focused on their mission of managing regional fisheries.

That’s probably a good thing, for as the Mongabay article notes, the proper name of the treaty is the

“agreement on the conservation and sustainable use of marine biological diversity of areas beyond national jurisdiction.  [emphasis added]”

And sustainable use is just what the regional fishery management organizations try to promote.

Perhaps that’s why, at a meeting called to draft the treaty’s rules, held in New York City between March 23 and April 2, the delegates present agreed to what Mongabay described as

“rules or procedure that would help enshrine [the RFMOs’] authority to be part of decision-making under the treaty.”

Those rules have yet to be confirmed in a final vote of the parties to the treaty, but the MPA advocates are already upset, even though the draft hardly gives the regional fishery management organizations control of the process, but merely states that

“interactions between the [treaty organization] and bodies such as RFMOs shall be guided by ‘the need to develop strategies to manage overlapping mandates and avoid duplication of efforts, including, where appropriate, by leveraging the expertise and best practices of relevant instruments, frameworks and bodies, and existing cooperation and coordination agreements and platforms.’”

That’s hardly unreasonable, yet the MPA advocates’ response was harsh.  Megan Randles, the global political lead for oceans for the environmental group Greenpeace, raged that

“The organizations that have presided over decades of destruction on the high seas have made a completely unacceptable power-grab which would dramatically weaken the [treaty’s] ability to protect the ocean.  They are attempting to re-write the Treaty in favour of fishing industry vested interests.”

Mongabay also quoted Ryan Orgera, the global director of the United States-based organization Accountability Fish, as saying that regional fishery management organizations

“are not equipped as bodies, philosophically nor logistically, to add value to MPA creation processes…Many of the actors internal to RFMO processes are publicly opposed to the creation of MPAs in their respective treaty-areas.  RFMOs fail in ecosystem protection—they don’t think of ecosystems in meaningful ways; they often treat individual fisheries as discrete entities.”

And perhaps, in that statement, we see the real roots of the conflict.

Regional fisheries management organizations, informed by science, seek to manage fisheries for sustainable harvest, while the organizations opposing RFMO involvement in the process are seeking to create marine protected areas, not because any specific research suggests that they are needed, but merely because of a philosophical belief that MPAs, which prevent any harvest in certain areas, are inherently good—and because they help attain certain arbitrary goals.

We should probably take another look at some of the language at the beginning of the Mongabay article, and really consider what it says:

“High seas MPAs are viewed as essential to meeting the looming 2030 deadline to protect 30% of the Earth’s ocean, especially since countries have only just reached one-third of that goal.”

“Essential to meeting the looming 2030 deadline.” 

High seas MPAs are not viewed as essential to maintain sustainable fisheries.  They are not viewed as essential to rebuild—or prevent the decline of—specific fish stocks.  They are only viewed as essential to meet what is, in fact, an arbitrary deadline of 2030 to protect an equally arbitrary 30% of the ocean from some sort of activity that has never been clearly and completely defined.

That doesn’t mean that high-seas marine protected areas cannot have value.  There might be cases where the best available science will suggest that the only way to adequately protect a population of fish is to close an area of ocean to all commercial fishing, or perhaps to all fishing of any kind.  But such circumstances are probably not common enough to justify closing 30% of the ocean just because it seems a nice thing to do.

Not long ago, MPA advocates were aggressively touting a paper titled “A global network of marine protected areas for food,” which appeared in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences in October 2020 and argued that

“Strategically siting marine protected areas (MPAs) in overfished fisheries can have important conservation and food provisioning benefits.  We use distribution data for 1,338 commercially important fisheries stocks around the world to model how MPAs in different locations would affect catch.  We show that strategically expanding the existing global MPA network by just 5% could improve future catch by at least 20%.  Our work demonstrates that a global network of MPAs designed to improve fisheries productivity can substantially increase future catch, enabling synergistic conservation and food provisioning.”

However, that paper has since been retracted, something that only happens when the data underlying the paper, the analysis of that data, or some other aspect of the academic process leading to the paper’s production was seriously and fatally flawed.

So once again, we see an emotional appeal—in this case, the slogan 30x30, which embodies a clear, if unjustified concept, and can easily be used in public relations campaigns—supplanting, in at least some advocates’ minds, data-based management efforts.

Advocates for the arbitrary creation of marine protected areas, and the arbitrary protection of 30% of the ocean, rail against the input of regional fishery management organizations that proceed not on the basis of compelling public relations campaigns, but on the basis of compelling scientific information.

It is the sort of thing that we’ve seen before, when advocacy groups championed causes with public relations appeal, perhaps involving charismatic megafauna—sharks, bluefin tuna, or broadbill swordfish in the ocean, and elephants, lions, or grizzly bears on shore—while ignoring the decline of species such as winter flounder, ocean pout, or bobwhite quail because they aren’t big enough or photogenic enough catch the public imagination and inspire public support.

In the same way, “30x30” can capture the public imagination far better than technical measures intended to rebuild dusky shark populations, even though the need for the latter is far better supported by data.

Which is just another reason whey fisheries management should remain the realm of fisheries managers—people who have been trained, and have dedicated their lifetimes, to conserving fish stocks and maintaining sustainable fisheries—rather than a place where advocates, pushing their cause of the day, merely roil the waters and keep the truly important work from being done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULD YOU BE ABLE TO OPEN AN OCTOPUS FARM?

 

I have represented recreational fishermen on New York’s Marine Resources Advisory Council for just over 20 years, and throughout that time, the Council’s April meeting was reserved for reviewing and commenting on pending bills in the New York State Legislature.  This year, the April meeting will be held on April 14, so yesterday morning found me perusing the bills that were likely to be on the meeting agenda.

Typically, the list of pending bills includes some that would create new duties for the Department of Environmental Conservation (without also creating the new funding and new positions needed to get those jobs done), some that would create tax breaks or other privileges for one special interest group or another, some that extend the DEC’s authority to regulate various species, some that impact licenses and permits of various kinds, and some that would supposedly provide—or sometimes remove—protections for particular species.  But this time I came across one bill that stopped me cold. 

It was A 08043,

“AN ACT to amend the environmental conservation law, in relation to octopus farming.”

That was unexpected.

According to the bill memo, the legislation

“Provides that no person shall sell any octopus that was bred, raised, or harvested under controlled conditions for the purpose of human consumption.”

My immediate question was why?

As far as I knew, no one was farming octopus here in New York, and I wasn’t aware of anyone planning to start an octopus farm.  In truth, I didn’t know that octopus could be farmed.  After looking into the matter, I learned that there isn’t a single octopus farm anywhere in the world, although a company in Spain is trying to start one; the United States once had a single such farm, located in Hawaii, but it ran into problems and eventually shut down.

The sponsors of the Assembly bill—and to my surprise, there are 23 of them; A 08043 seems to have substantial support—claim that

“The farming of octopus is a highly concerning practice quickly gaining global momentum.  Numerous environmental organizations, scientists, and policymakers have expressed grave concern over the practice, as it poses severe animal welfare, environmental, public health, and economic risks.  Currently there are no businesses engaged in octopus farming in New York and this bill, modeled after the ones passed in Washington and California, aims to ban the practice to ensure no one can in the future.”

The bill would impose severe penalties, in the form of a fine

“not to exceed one thousand dollars for each octopus, or parts of such octopus, sold, offered for sale, or traded  [emphasis added]”

in violation of the proposed new law.

To put that in context, the fine for illegal sale of a single fish, mollusk (and an octopus is a mollusk, after all), or other wildlife, so long as its value is under $250, cannot exceed $500, and the fine for illegally selling any number of fish, regardless of value, can’t exceed $1,500, so A 08043 is effectively declaring octopus farming to be a greater offense than illegally commercializing any fish, shellfish, or other creature that naturally occurs in New York waters—presumably including the common octopus, Octopus vulgaris, which, although uncommon, does live off New York’s coast.

Apparently, the New York City Bar Association agrees with the bill’s sponsor, for its Animal Law Committee came out with a report endorsing the bill, saying that

“The Committee’s support is grounded in animal welfare, environmental, and public health concerns.  The report highlights scientific evidence of octopus sentience and the difficulty of providing humane captive care, pointing out that octopuses’ intelligence, solitary nature, high feed requirements, and susceptibility to stress and disease make farming ethically and practically problematic.  It also cites potential environmental risks such as pollution, wild fish depletion to produce feed, and escape of farmed animals and the lack of clear benefits for local fisheries or communities…”

That made me curious about why such considerations were so unique to octopus farming, and not to other forms of aquaculture—or land-based agriculture, for that matter—that they justified the current bill, so I turned to Google for answers.

When I did, I quickly found a plethora of articles opposing octopus farms, and the identities of the website owners said a lot about where the opposition to such farms was coming from.  In just the first two pages of my search, I found negative articles published by groups with names such as “Animal Survival International,” “Animal Welfare Institute,” “Compassion in World Farming,” “Eurogroup for Animals,” and “Viva!  The Vegan Charity,” which provided a pretty strong clue that much of the opposition to octopus farms arose from pure emotion, rather from the sort of facts and hard data that ought to be used to make decisions on fisheries policy.

An article appearing on the Vox news and opinion website cemented that impression when it noted that

“public interest in octopuses swelled 2021, when the hit Netflix documentary My Octopus Teacher—which captivated audiences with a story of a human relationship with a wild octopus in South Africa—won the Oscar for best documentary…A year later, the UK passed a law declaring that all vertebrate animals and some invertebrates—including cephalopods—are sentient, and that future laws need to consider their welfare.”

Once again, we seem to have emotion, rather than data, driving policy.  That even extends to legitimate and respected scientists who also oppose octopus farming.  For example, an article, “The Case Against Octopus Farming,” which was written by four bona fide academics engaged in cephalopod research and appeared in the journal Issues in Science and Technology, begins,

“Octopuses stand out among invertebrates for their complex behavior.  They are capable of problem solving, mimicking their surroundings using color changes that take place on a scale of seconds, outwitting predatory sharks, discriminating individual humans, engaging in playful behavior, and hunting in response to cooperative signals sent by fish.  As these patterns of behavior suggest, octopuses (as well as some other cephalopods) have sophisticated nervous systems and large brains.

“Given their exceptional abilities, one might ask whether humans should be eating octopuses at all, but here we want to raise a different ethical question.  As global demand for octopus grows, especially in affluent markets, so have efforts to farm them.  We believe that octopuses are particularly ill-suited to a life in captivity and mass production, for reasons both ethical and ecological.”

Reading that, one might ask why the same concerns shouldn’t stand in the way of farming animals such as chickens, cattle, sheep, and that intellectual giant of the barnyard, the pig, which has reportedly been observed

“using a joystick to move a pointer on a computer screen, understanding human instructions, and using primitive tools.”

Yet, despite the pig’s proven intelligence, A 08043 makes no effort to disrupt the supply chain of bacon, ham, and lard, but only to outlaw octopus farms, which merely demonstrates the sort of irrational inconsistency that results when emotion, rather than data-driven logic, inspires lawmakers’ actions.

The authors of the above-referenced article try to justify treating the octopus differently from other farmed animals by saying that issues related to land-based animal husbandry

“should lead us to ask whether we want to repeat mistakes already made with terrestrial animals with aquatic animals, especially octopus.”

Of course, that question assumes that creating a system that provides hundreds of millions of persons in the United States with readily available and largely affordable protein is really a “mistake,” an assumption that, once again, seems to be based, at least in part, on emotion although, to be fair, the authors note that, unlike chicken or other commonly farmed animals, octopus are a luxury food, and not something needed for day-to-day survival.

Still, emotions aside, the authors do point to some very problematic aspects of octopus farming that should be considered before any such farm is approved.

“The environmental impacts of aquaculture are well known.  They include pollution from nitrogen and phosphorus released from feces and food decomposition; contamination from fertilizers, algaecides, herbicides, and disinfectants; excessive use of antibiotics; interbreeding and disease transmission between escaped fish and wild varieties; and loss of natural habitat (such as mangrove swamps) needed for farms.  But the biggest ecological concern is less familiar.

“Unlike terrestrial farmed animals, the majority of which evolved as herbivores, most farmed aquatic animal species, including salmon, trout, and shrimp, are carnivorous, and depend on fish protein and oil during certain development stages.  Feeding most farmed aquatic animals puts additional pressure on wild fish and invertebrates for fishmeal.  Around one-third of the global fish catch is turned into feed for other animals, roughly half of which goes to aquaculture.  Many fishmeal fisheries are subject to overfishing and are declining.

“Reducing the ecological impact of catching fish to feed fish means reducing the reliance on wild fish and invertebrates for fishmeal.  One option is to focus aquatic farming on invertebrates and other species lower on the food web, yet the percentage of farmed aquatic species that need to be fed is increasing relative to species such as freshwater carps, bivalves, and aquatic plants that require little to no feed…

“…But octopuses are atypical invertebrates as well as atypical mollusks.  They are both carnivorous (none can survive on plants or algae alone) and behaviorally sophisticated.  Farming octopus in counterproductive from perspective of environmental sustainability…”

The New York City Bar Association’s Animal Law Committee made a similar argument, writing

“Octopuses are asocial, obligate carnivores and cannot survive on plants and algae.  Their carnivorous diet requires large quantities of animal protein and they are behaviorally sophisticated.  Octopuses are known as ‘picky eaters’ and will not thrive on discarded bycatch of fishermen.  Their solitary nature require multiple tanks or compartments, complicating the waste management system.  The plan to farm multiple octopuses in a sterile setting will allow feces and uneaten food to accumulate.  Decomposition of feces and uneaten food fuels bacterial activity that consumes oxygen and releases toxic nitrogenous compounds like ammonia and nitrite.  Wastewater from aquaculture is typically discharged into the ocean.  Even if the wastewater is filtered before release, residual chemicals and bacteria will be discharged and could linger and harm the local marine environment.  Pollution from octopus farming could alter coastal ecosystems, promote harmful algae blooms and harm biodiversity…

“A related concern is the sustainability of octopus farming due to the octopuses’ high ‘feed conversion ratio’…According to [the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations’] 2024 SOFIA report, roughly one-fifth of the global marine catch is reduced to fishmeal and fish oil, and recent FAO-summarized analyses indicates that 75 percent of these marine ingredients are used in aquaculture feed.  The industrial production of fishmeal and fish oil depletes marine resources in traditional fishing areas, reducing the availability of fish for human consumption and driving up the cost of fish…  [footnotes omitted]”

Those ecological concerns are valid, as are others regarding the escape of aquacultured animals, the possibility of aquaculture introducing diseases to wild populations, etc.  But they are not limited to octopus farms.  Any sort of open-water aquaculture operation, other than those limited to bivalves or algae, creates the same sort of issues.

We have already seen hundreds of thousands of potentially invasive Atlantic salmon escape from net pens in Washington state.  In Australia, wild fish in areas adjacent to salmon farms were found to be “not fit for human consumption” due to contamination with antibiotics that had rised to five times the maximum safe level.  Other consequences of open-water aquaculture, including pollution from feces and uneaten food, the introduction of pesticides into the marine environment, and the introduction of pathogens and parasites into wild fish populations, have been recognized by scientists for a long time.

And that’s where A 08043, and all of the critics of octopus farming, go wrong.

They succumb to the siren song of My Octopus Teacher, obsess over the emotionally captivating topic of supposed octopus sentience, and so focus on banning octopus farms, which exist nowhere in the United States and, unless things have recently changed, nowhere in the world.

They waste time and resources attacking a nonexistent industry that may never be biologically practical nor economically viable while, at the same time, a very large and very real open-water aquaculture industry, favored by the current presidential administration, creates the very problems of pollution, antibiotic contamination, parasitism, escape, and disease, on a far larger scale than octopus farming could ever do, in the waters of the United States, as well as in the waters of many nations throughout the world.

So, should you be able to open an octopus farm?

Probably not.

But then, you shouldn’t be able to open a farm for salmon, striped bass, rainbow trout, Almaco jacks, or any other species of free-swimming marine animal.  At least not in open water.  They all create the same real-world problems as octopus farms do, and on a far larger scale. 

Octopus farms, since they don’t yet exist, just make an easier target.

 

 

 

 

 

 

UNITED STATES ACTION THREATENS ATLANTIC BLUEFIN TUNA MANAGEMENT

The letter, addressed to the executive secretary of the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas (ICCAT), was short. Dated January 27, 2026, it read:

This letter is to acknowledge that the Western Bluefin Recommendation 22-10 does not require Western harvesters to count their recreational catch of Bluefin toward their quota. As such, beginning January 1, 2026 and henceforth, the United States will continue to report its recreational catch for management purposes but will not count its recreational catch toward its current quota of 1572 mt, which will be solely allocated to its commercial catch.

It was signed by Andrew “Drew” Lawler, Principal Deputy Assistant Secretary, NOAA International Fisheries.

In those few lines, the United States had effectively announced that it intended to exceed its 2026 Atlantic bluefin tuna quota, as established by ICCAT, by about 341 metric tons (751,776 pounds), 22.6% of its 2026 bluefin quota.

There seems to be no legal basis for the United States’ action.

ICCAT’s Recommendation 22-10 states that “an annual [total allowable catch], inclusive of dead discards, of 2,726 [metric tons] is established for 2023, 2024, and 2025…” Recommendation 25-05, adopted at ICCAT’s 2025 annual meeting (and probably the recommendation that Mr. Lawler should have referenced in his letter), employed similar language, but raised the total allowable catch for the years 2026-2029 to 3,081.6 metric tons, and increased the United States’ quota to 1,509.98 metric tons.

Nothing in either recommendation suggested that ICCAT intended to establish a total allowable catch for Western Atlantic bluefin tuna which included dead discards, but excluded all bluefin killed in the United States’ recreational fishery.

To the extent that the recommendations address the recreational fishery for bluefin tuna at all, it is only to require that “[Contracting Parties and Cooperating non-Contracting Parties, Entities, and Fishing Entities (CPCs)] shall prohibit fishermen from selling or offering for sale recreationally harvested fish of any size,” and “CPCs will encourage their commercial and recreational fishermen to tag and release all fish less than 30 kg or, in the alternative, having a fork length less than 115 cm and report on steps taken in this regard in their Annual Report.”

Recreationally-caught bluefin were thus clearly governed by the recommendations, and since the only mention of “commercial” fishermen in either recommendation was in the previously quoted sentence relating to tagging and releasing small fish, there seems to be no textual support for the United States’ argument that Recommendation 22-10 required it to count only commercial, and not recreational, landings against its quota. That matters, because in ICCAT’s parlance, a “recommendation” is not merely a suggestion that a Contracting Party take a particular action. It is a mandatory fishery management measure that all Contracting Parties must adopt.

Other ICCAT members have taken strong exception to the United States’ position.

In a letter to ICCAT’s executive secretary, dated February 11, 2026, Mark Waddell, Canada’s Head of Delegation to ICCAT, wrote,

Canada does not have the same interpretation as the United States of Recommendation 22-10, which is replaced by Recommendation 25-05. Canada’s interpretation is that catches from recreational fisheries shall count against a CPC’s annual allocation. When the western Bluefin measure grants differential treatment to recreational fisheries, it does so explicitly, as is the case in paragraph 11 of Recommendation 25-05 [which prohibits the sale of recreationally-caught fish]. Therefore, short of an explicit exemption for recreational fisheries in allocation-related provisions, the measure cannot be interpreted as excluding recreational catches from the annual [total allowable catch] set out in the measure…

There is nothing in the western BFT Recommendation (22-10 nor 25-05) that would allow some types of fishing mortality (commercial) to apply to a CPC’s allocations of the [total allowable catch] while allowing other types of fishing mortality (recreational) to be excluded from compliance totals…

In developing the management procedure, the [management strategy evaluation] assumed the total fishing mortality for Atlantic bluefin tuna would reflect all sources of mortality, whether commercial or recreational, landed or discarded. Not accounting for the significant mortality arising from recreational fisheries would be outside the framework of the management procedure and would invalidate all of the testing results provided during the [management strategy evaluation]…

The European Union took a similar position, in a February 23, 2026 letter which stated, in part,

The EU would like to recall that the annual Total Allowable Catch (TAC) was determined based on a Management Procedure that considers the total fishing mortality of Western Atlantic bluefin tuna, encompassing removals from recreational fisheries as well, and represents the maximum amount of fishing mortality that can be applied each year…

Should the US not account for recreational catches within the bluefin tuna quota it has been attributed, the EU is of the position that:

–Exceptional circumstances would occur for the Western stock and that would require the [Standing Committee on Research and Statistics] to evaluate whether a change in the advice is necessary and could lead to a situation where ICCAT would have an obligation to adjust the TAC for the Western stock.

–The US would be bound to pay back next year any bluefin tuna caught in excess of its quota this year…

Japan also submitted an objection on February 23, arguing that

the management procedure was developed based on the total fishing mortality for Atlantic bluefin tuna by taking into account all sources of removals, including both commercial and recreational fisheries. Counting no recreational catches against the national annual quota is therefore inconsistent with the scientific assumptions underpinning the stock assessment and the Management Procedure agreed to by the ICCAT. Also, there is no specific text in the Recommendation that excludes recreational catches from the national catch amount, which shall be within the quota.

In the past several years, United States’ recreational catches of Western Atlantic bluefin tuna reached over 200 metric tons, and was 451 metric tons in 2024. Exclusion of such amount of recreational catches from the catch amount against the quota may result in actual removals exceeding the level assumed under the management framework. Such a situation would trigger conditions comparable to those envisaged under the [exceptional circumstances] provisions of the Management Procedure. The fishing mortality would deviate substantially from the assumptions on which the Management Procedure is based and provide adverse impacts on the stock.

If the total catch of the United States including recreational catches exceeds its quota, the amount of overharvest shall be deducted from the next year’s quota in accordance with paragraph 8 b) of Recommendation 25-05…

The environmental community in the United States has also challenged the nation’s new position on recreational Atlantic bluefin landings, with three organizations — Earthjustice, Wild Oceans, and the Safina Center — sending a joint letter to Mr. Lawler outlining their objections. While much of that letter reiterates points already made in the documents quoted above, the environmental groups also question whether NOAA Fisheries could legally alter its past practice of counting recreational landings against the United States’ bluefin quota without first going through a formal rulemaking process as described in the federal Administrative Procedures Act, something that was not done prior to Mr. Lawler sending his letter to ICCAT, although it is likely that such a rulemaking process will be initiated in the near future.

The joint letter also noted that the failure to count recreational bluefin landings against the quota could have real, adverse impacts on the United States’ bluefin fisheries.

In addition to the significant conservation concerns associated with exceeding the ICCAT quota, this action could also have serious commercial ramifications. Exceeding the ICCAT quota triggers a payback requirement in subsequent years, as high as 125% if the quota is exceeded in two or more consecutive years. And by violating ICCAT terms and agreements regarding catch accounting, this action could subject U.S. commercial fishermen to trade penalties that would prevent them from exporting the bluefin they catch.

So far, neither objections from other fishing nations nor the threat of ICCAT sanctions have dissuaded NOAA Fisheries from leaving recreational bluefin landings out of its 2026 quota calculations. An ICCAT panel that met early in March 2026 had the issue on its agenda, but the report of that meeting has not yet been released.

Unless NOAA Fisheries has a belated change of heart and returns to counting recreational landings against the United States’ Atlantic bluefin quota, it is likely that such quota will be exceeded, probably by a substantial amount. The United States’ action could also threaten ICCAT’s ability to effectively manage highly migratory species, for if the United States can ignore an ICCAT recommendation with impunity, then other contracting parties may well become reluctant to comply with recommendations that negatively impact those parties’ fisheries.

An even greater threat could emerge should the United States, by omitting recreational landings from its bluefin quota, end up substantially exceeding that quota. In that situation, should ICCAT impose the appropriate sanctions, it is very possible that the current U.S. administration, in a fit of pique, would respond by pulling out of the underlying treaty. While such unilateral executive action would probably run afoul of the Atlantic Tunas Convention Act, which states that “The Secretary [of Commerce] as authorized and directed to administer and enforce all of the provisions of the [emphasis added]” treaty which created ICCAT and its management authority, the administration might not pay much regard to such legal niceties.

And should the United States, the predominant tuna fishing nation in the western Atlantic, withdraw from ICCAT, it would cripple the international management of highly migratory species like bluefin tuna and tempt other parties to fish outside of the ICCAT framework.

Hopefully, things won’t get to that point.

Hopefully, perhaps after encountering significant resistance during the rulemaking process, NOAA Fisheries will reverse course and continue to count recreational bluefin landings against the United States quota.

While the ICCAT process has sometimes been flawed, for the past 50 years the Commission has served to coordinate international management of not only Atlantic bluefin tuna, but also of other tunas, swordfish, marlin, and some sharks, including the depleted shortfin mako. It has had some notable successes in the recovery of bluefin tuna and swordfish populations, while still having much work to do to rebuild and effectively manage other species. But, even with that work yet undone, ICCAT has, on balance, had a very positive impact on highly migratory fisheries management in the Atlantic.

Both highly migratory species and the Atlantic fishing nations would suffer should ICCAT’s impact be lessened by the ill-considered actions of the United States or other contracting party.

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This essay first appeared in “From the Waterfront,” the blog of the Marine Fish Conservation Network, which can be found at http://conservefish.org/blog/

 

WHAT DO RECREATIONAL FISHERMEN REALLY WANT--AND HOW CAN MANAGERS KNOW?

 

Recreational fisheries management is a complicated mix of science, law, and politics—with some economics supposedly tossed in as well—that sees managers try to maintain healthy and sustainable fish stocks, while complying with all applicable laws, not putting anyone out of business, and keeping stakeholders happy.

That’s pretty much an impossible task, and everyone should be more-or-less content if the laws are observed, the fish stocks are healthy, and the adverse impacts on fishing-related businesses are less than they’d be if the fish stocks collapsed.

Generally, fishery managers try to give anglers what they want, within the confines imposed by science and law.  Yet what anglers want isn’t completely clear.  There are a lot of voices out there purporting to speak for recreational fishermen, although it’s not clear who appointed them on anglers’ behalf.  And individual anglers are, by and large, not particularly good at speaking for themselves.

We saw a good example of that last fall, when the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission’s Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board was debating the Draft Addendum III to Amendment 7 to the Interstate Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Striped Bass.  The Management Board had solicited public comments on the various measures contained in the Draft Addendum, including a proposal to reduce commercial and recreational landings by 12% in order to make it more likely that the stock would rebuild by 2029, the deadline mandated by the fishery management plan.

One of the comment letters received by the Management Board was signed by six organizations closely affiliated with the recreational fishing and boating industries—the American Sportfishing Association, Boat Owners Association of the United States, Center for Sportfishing Policy, Coastal Conservation Association, Marine Retailers Association of the Americas, and National Marine Manufacturers Association—which claimed

“We represent the entire recreational fishing and boating community.”

That was a pretty bold, and clearly false, claim, as the only broad-based membership organization of the six was the Coastal Conservation Association (despite its name, the Boat Owners Association of the United States is not a membership organization, in the sense that angler- and hunter-based groups such as Trout Unlimited, Ducks Unlimited, or the Coastal Conservation Association are, but is instead a sort of maritime AAA, that provides towing services, reduced-rate insurance coverage, discounts at West Marine stores, etc.), and the CCA doesn’t come close to representing the “entire,” or even a substantial minority, of the saltwater angling community.  The CCA represents an even smaller proportion of striped bass anglers.

It claims a little over 125,000 members, most of whom are located in Texas, Louisiana, and Florida, with much of the remainder scattered across other states bordering the South Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. While it has a few small chapters on the striper coast, in New Hampshire, Maryland, and Virginia (an active North Carolina chapter is also technically in a striped bass state, although it concentrates on bass spawning in North Carolina rivers rather than on coastwide striped bass issues; three former chapters, in Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New York, dissolved years ago, and the status of the Maine chapter is unclear, although the last seemingly “official” post on its Facebook page was made nearly five years ago), they don’t come close to representing most, much less all, of all striped bass anglers, who collectively took over 14 million fishing trips primarily targeting the species last year.

Yet the CCA wasn’t shy to march in lockstep with the rest of the industry organizations who purported to represent the “entire” angling community, and oppose the 12% landings reduction, largely on economic grounds, even though its own New Hampshire chapter supported the management measure, and encouraged the Management Board to put the reduction in place.

Thus, fisheries managers are wise to be skeptical of any organization that purports to represent anglers as a whole, and not merely its own limited membership.

But while that sort of skepticism might prevent managers from mistakenly accepting an organization’s position as that of the broader angling community, it doesn’t help them know how most anglers want them to approach a management problem.

As a practical matter, when addressing a recreational fisheries issue, managers are limited to three basic tools—size limits, bag limits, and seasons, which all have to be set before a season begins.  And the thing about size limits, bag limits, and seasons is that they force tradeoffs.  You can, for example, have a small size limit, but that’s going to lead to a small bag limit and/or a short season.  A larger bag limit may lead to a smaller bag and/or shorter season, while a long season is necessarily going to result in a larger size limit and/or smaller bag. 

Thus, we often hear things like, “Commercial fishermen can keep 14-inch fluke.  Why can’t recreational fishermen keep 14-inch fluke, too?”  And the answer is that they can, if they’re willing to settle for a 1-fish bag limit and a season that lasts through the first two weeks of June (that’s probably an exaggeration, but you get the point—a small size limit, acceptably high bag limit and long season isn’t going to happen in most popular fisheries).

Thus, the trick for fisheries managers is to find the sweet spot—that combination of size limit, bag limit, and season that will adequately protect the resource, while coming closest to satisfying anglers.

It’s not an easy thing to do.

Many times, the ASMFC, or a regional fishery management council, or even a state, will hold hearings and solicit public comments, in an attempt to solicit opinions.  It’s a viable approach although, depending on when the hearings are held, anglers’ ability to attend may be limited (hearings held during the workday, or so early in the evening that people don’t have enough time between when they get out of work and when the hearing is held, are particularly problematic), and there are always the problems of people being afraid to speak in public, or of interest groups packing the hearing and, at times, trying to shout down and intimidate those with different views.

Recently, we have seen states try to survey anglers on various issues, but that, too, is an imperfect solution, because a survey doesn’t accurately reflect the views of a population—in this case, the population of anglers—if the people surveyed don’t represent an accurate cross-section of that population.  In the case of state surveys, which typically aren’t sent out to a pre-selected subset of anglers, but are instead posted online so that the public may voluntarily respond, it is nearly impossible to keep biases out of the sample.

Younger anglers, for example, may be more willing to complete—or even more able to access—an online survey than older, less computer-savvy individuals.  Native English-speakers may be more likely to respond than those who only learned the language later in life.  Education, economic condition, and similar factors may also tend to skew survey results toward findings that don’t accurately reflect public sentiment.

Then there is the issue of someone intentionally trying to bias the results.  Angler surveys generally draw a small enough response that a group of like-minded individuals, whether a business, an industry group, a large fishing club, or a publication with a particular editorial viewpoint can urge customers, readers, or members to respond to a survey in disproportionate numbers, and so distort the outcome. 

For example, the ASMFC received 4,525 comments on the question of whether to reduce striped bass landings by 12% in Addendum III to the management plan.  The American Sportfishing Association, which is the trade association for the fishing tackle industry, generated a form letter that resulted in 929 comments opposing the 12% cut.  That amounted to 20.5% of all comments received by the Management Board, and 34.1% of all comments opposing the reduction.  Yet the ASA solicited those comments through its “Keep America Fishing” advocacy program, which reaches out to anglers all across the United States, many—perhaps most—of whom do not live on the striper coast and do not fish for wild striped bass. 

Yet their opinions counted just as much as those of the most ardent striped bass angler, even though they didn’t necessarily provide any insight into what such striped bass anglers wanted the Management Board to do.

In another instance, the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation conducted an on-line survey of anglers last January, asking what changes they’d like to see in the state’s black sea bass regulations.  One of New York’s largest party boat fleets put the news up on its Facebook page, urging its followers—which likely included a large percentage of anglers who fished from for-hire boats—to participate.  It’s likely that other businesses encouraged their customers to participate in the survey as well.

Only 2,060 stakeholders responded to the black sea bass survey.  Of those, 1,915 were anglers, while the rest represented for-hire businesses or bait and tackle shops.  It’s impossible to know how many of the 1,915 anglers only responded because they were urged to do so by a for-hire operation or other business, but it’s probably safe to assume that at least some of the respondents fell into that category. 

And that sort of encouragement could have easily biased the survey.

In 2025, New York anglers took just slightly more than 335,000 fishing trips in which black sea bass were the primary target.  Of those 335,000 trips, only about 34,500—10.3%--were taken by anglers fishing from for-hire vessels.  The 138 members of the for-hire industry who responded to the survey comprised 6.7% of all respondents.  So, if more than 75 of the 1,915 anglers who responded did most of their black sea bass fishing from for-hire vessels, the percentage of respondents representing the for-hire sector would have exceeded that sector’s 10.3% share of the black sea bass fishery as a whole.

While, as a practical matter, a couple of percentage points one way or another wouldn’t really matter, it’s easy to see how, if a few businesses made a concerted effort to get customers to respond, they could badly bias the results of a survey, and provide a false impression of what the overall angling community preferred.

Fortunately, in the case of New York’s black sea bass survey, that sort of bias didn’t seem to occur.  Responses were remarkably consistent across all identifiable groups of stakeholders, with a little more than half of the respondents prioritizing a reduction in the minimum size, with an increase in the bag limit during the first part of the season (ending on August 31) and an earlier start to the season effectively tied for second place.  As a result, New York will reduce its size limit from 16 ½ to 16 inches in 2026, and start its season on May 16 rather than on June 23.

In that instance, it looks as if the survey helped managers to get the changes right; anglers generally seem content with the agency’s decision.  And there is no question that the people at the DEC’s Marine Resources Division put in a lot of effort to reach the right outcome.

But there was still an element of good fortune involved, for in the end, while determining how many fish the recreational sector might land is a matter of science, setting regulations that will adequately constrain recreational landings, while leaving anglers reasonably content, is just as much a matter of art, performed by managers who know their constituents well enough to sort through the noise that surrounds the rulemaking process.

All things considered, it’s remarkable how often they manage to get it right.