IS IT TIME FOR A "ONE-AND-DONE" RULE IN THE RECREATIONAL STRIPED BASS FISHERY?

 

A number of years ago, my wife, two of our friends and I found ourselves in a boat, with a guide, on Alaska’s Kenai River.

We had hit things just right; the river was filled with king salmon.  While the Alaska Department of Fish and Game estimates that it takes the average angler about 29 hours to put a single king in the boat, we probably weren’t waiting 29 minutes between hookups, with our guide putting us on king after king as we backtrolled big plugs down the river.

I was enjoying the action, and had released a number of salmon before landing a 43-pound fish.  That one went on the ice (there was no maximum size in those days), and after that, my lure stayed out of the water, although there was no sign that the bite was slowing down.

In fact, I would have liked to fish a little more, but the regulations for the river were clear:

“No person, after taking a king salmon 20 inches or longer from the Kenai River, may, on that same day, fish from a boat for any species of fish in the Kenai River downstream from Skilak Lake.”

That rule is reinforced with another requiring that

“Anglers who keep a king salmon 20 inches or longer…must immediately record that harvest.”

Each fishing license includes a page where such recordings are made.

That sort of “one and done” rule on the Kenai strikes a rational balance between the impacts of catch-and-release and catch-and-keep angling on the fish population, without unduly favoring either approach to the fishery.

Although we sometimes try to tell ourselves otherwise—particularly about our own fishing efforts—we all hopefully realize that catch-and-release fishing has some impacts on fish populations, although in many fisheries an angler would have to release quite a few fish before having the same impact as someone putting just on in the cooler.

When fishing for salmon on the Kenai, an angler has to make a choice.  Does he or she keep the first king that is caught, knowing that it might be the only one that takes the hook all day, and then quit fishing?  Or is the fish released, in the hope of enjoying more action, but at the cost of possibly not taking any salmon home?

It’s not always an easy decision.  On our second and last trip on the river, I got carried away by our first-day success and, expecting a repeat of the action we had already enjoyed, brashly announced that I wouldn’t keep another fish unless it was larger than the one I had already taken.  Having made that commitment, I caught a relatively small salmon early and let it go.  But fishing was far slower that day than on our first outing; I spent a most of the rest of the da watching my companions put their fish on ice while I waited and hoped that another king might come along.

Yet it’s a decision that has to be made, because the one thing that an angler can’t do is keep the first fish, then continue to catch and release, causing additional fishing mortality, after that first king is on ice.  And each angler makes it knowing that if the first fish is released, there is a very real possibility that another salmon might not come along that day.

So each person fishing the river must decide, on every fishing day, whether keeping one fish, or possibly catching many fish, will be their goal.

As a result of Alaska’s one-and-done policy on the river, fisheries managers have managed to constrain recreational king salmon landings on the Kenai to an average of 17,500 fish per year.

Yet that sort of one-and-done regulation is rarely encountered outside of Alaska.  In most fisheries, and particularly in saltwater fisheries, anglers can typically put a limit of fish in the box, and then continue fishing, even while using baits and techniques likely to lead to additional discard mortality.

The question that needs to be asked is whether requiring anglers to quit fishing once they have kept their limit of fish would benefit other fish stocks, as it seems to benefit the Kenai’s king salmon.

More particularly, we should ask whether it would benefit the striped bass, given that 48 percent of fishing mortality is attributed to fish that die after release?

The same basic logic would apply; by forcing anglers to make a choice between taking a fish earlier in the trip, and not engaging in catch-and-release once that fish was in the cooler, or releasing fish caught earlier in the session, and taking the chance of not catching a legal fish later in the day, both release mortality and overall fishing mortality would be reduced.

In the case of striped bass, where managers believe that, on average, about 9 percent of released fish don’t survive, putting one bass in the cooler is theoretically equivalent to catching and releasing eleven.  And since, particularly in these days of an overfished stock, catching and releasing 11 legal fish would constitute a pretty good day (because both the catch-and-keep and catch-and-release fishermen would, we hope, release all of their shorts and over-slot fish), a one-and-done rule probably wouldn’t favor one approach over the other. 

Only the anglers who tried to straddle the line, and would keep fishing after a bass was put on ice, would be disadvantaged.

There’s some dispute about how many anglers fall in that latter category.

Tom Fote, the Governor’s Appointee from New Jersey, probably wouldn’t see to much of a problem with a one-and-done restriction, because he’s gone on the record as saying that’s what people are already doing in his home state.  At one meeting of the Atlantic State Marine Fisheries Commission’s Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board, he argued that

“This fishery has completely changed in the last 20 years.  If you look at New Jersey, 20 years ago most of the striped bass fishermen were catch-and-release fishermen.

“They really were not keeping---they would take only one home a week, maybe a few like that, but they were mostly doing catch and release.  That is when our numbers were really high.  When you started cutting down on summer flounder and a few other species where these people could go targeting in May and June and everything like that, they all of a sudden switched to be striped bass fishermen, but they were meat fishermen.

“…A guy or a girl, when they get their fish that they’re going to take home, they go in, they don’t sit there.  A matter of fact, a lot of charterboat captains said as soon as you put your two-fish limit in New Jersey, we’re headed to the dock.  That is really what happens here…

“When I used to go out in 2002, maybe one guy on the boat would keep one fish.  Now you go and they keep eight fish, but they go back to the dock, and that is what they’re doing.  There is not the continuously [sic] catch and release there was a long time ago…  [emphasis added]”

If that’s what’s going on, a one-and-done rule wouldn’t impact the catch-and-keep angler at all.

But that may not be what’s really happening.

Recreational fishermen like to fish.  That’s why, even if they take their bass home, they invest the time and money needed to catching their dinner themselves, rather than buying it at the store, something that would cost far less in both time and money.  And when someone enjoys doing something like fishing, they’re not that likely to quit and go home just because they have a bass in the cooler.  It’s tough to leave fish biting early in the day.

So my own guess, based on the people I know who regularly keep bass, is that most anglers won’t voluntarily stop fishing just because they’ve kept their limit of fish.  That may be particularly true of charter boat fishermen, who pay for a full day and aren’t likely to want to go home right away if they put a bass in the boat within a few minutes of getting started. 

In support of my position, I offer a fishing report from a charter boat that specializes in stripers and fishes out of my local inlet:

“Found a huge pod [of menhaden] right away, holding big fish.  We had non stop action for 2 hours, all fish were between 30 to 49.4 pounds…”

That happened before the slot limit was put in place, when big fish could still be taken, yet the anglers, who from the photos appear to have taken fish home, didn’t just catch their limits and quit, but kept on fishing for a while.  Another report from the same boat, on a different day, said that its fares

“had a super day of bass fishing with about 20 fish to 48 pounds on the bunker pods…We kept a couple of fish for the table and released all others including the 48 pound beauty.”

While the report wasn’t clear about when the fish that were kept were landed, it’s a pretty good bet that they weren’t among the very last fish of the day, and that the anglers who caught them kept on fishing, and releasing fish, after those bass were already on ice.  If that was the case, a one-and-done fishery would probably have prevented at least some release mortality, which can be a particular concern in a bait fishery targeting the largest female striped bass.

Even if none of the bass were badly hooked, which is unlikely, hanging a 48-pound striper vertically from a scale isn’t conducive to that fish’s survival, and likely would have been avoided with a one-and-done rule.

Thus, as the ASMFC’s Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board begins to draft a new amendment to its striped bass management plan, a one-and-done provision, similar to the rule governing king salmon on the Kenai River, might be a worthwhile way to limit release mortality without unnecessarily restricting catch-and-release angling.

Whether such a provision should be included in the new amendment remains open to debate.  But if managers are sincere in their desire to reduce release mortality, that debate should, at the least, occur.

 

 

 

SALT WATER FISHING: IS SPORTSMANSHIP DEAD?

 

Formal notions of sportsmanship and angling ethics arguably first came to saltwater fishing in 1898, when the Avalon Tuna Club was established on Catalina Island, off the southern California coast. 

As described in an article in The Catalina Islander, a local paper, that marked the Club’s centennial

“The Club had established revolutionary big-game fishing standards and practices that are still in use today such as the concept of using light fishing line and rods only, to not only level the playing field between rival fishermen but to create a sportsmanlike atmosphere intended to prevent the over-fishing of pelagic giants such as tuna and marlin.”

As technological advances in fishing gear made it more and more possible for anglers to successfully catch and target big fish, it became a matter of pride for recreational fishermen—typically wealthy recreational fishermen who could afford the boats and equipment and travel necessary to pursue large pelagic fish—to bring such fish back to the dock to hang on the scales and show off in both informal and formal competition with their peers. 

Big egos and a desire to catch a bigger fish than anyone else led to questionable conduct by some of those anglers.  In response, in 1939 a group of avid saltwater fishermen formed the International Game Fish Association, in order to

“create a portfolio of standardized angling rules along with a rigorous ethical credo, [and] develop a network of representatives to promulgate IGFA principles in distant lands.”

In other words, to make saltwater angling a legitimate sport, with rules attractive to sportsmen.

As to what a “sportsman” amounts to, perhaps the late author Robert Ruark (who was not involved with the IGFA) put it best when he wrote

“A sportsman, is a gentleman first.  But a sportsman, basically, is a man who kills what he needs, whether it’s fish or bird or animal, or what he wants for a special reason, but he never kills anything just to kill it.  And he tries to preserve the very same thing that he kills a little of from time to time.  The books call this conservation.  It’s the same reason why we don’t shoot that tame covey of quail down to less’n ten birds.”

The International Game Fish Association’s rules have been adopted by many clubs and fishing tournaments, and although the rules in place today differ a bit from those first adopted nearly a century ago, the follow the same theme:  The contest between angler and fish should be a sporting battle, in which the angler does not enjoy an unfair advantage. 

IGFA rules are fairly complex, but make intuative sense.  They require, for example, that a fish be hooked and fought by a single angler; for a catch to be considered valid, the angler may not hand off the rod to a companion, no one may help hold the rod or the reel, and the angler is prohibited from resting the rod on the ral of the boat in order to help ease the strain on his body.  Fish may not be harpooned, shot, or intentionally foul hooked.  Treble hooks may not be used in bait.  An angler may not leave the rod in a rod holder after the fish is hooked, and so use the boat, instead of his or her own strength and talent, to fight it.  Fish may not be caught in violation of any law.

For many years, such rules generally reflected the ethics of anglers along the coast, even if they weren’t familiar with the IGFA.  Most people didn’t follow them to the letter—for example, IGFA rules disallowed the use of wire line, which was nonetheless often used, out of necessity, for fish ranging from New England striped bass to Bahamian wahoo, and if you fish in Alaska, your guide will shoot a big halibut before bringing it into the boat—but by and large, most inshore and offshore anglers conducted themselves like sportsmen, in a manner similar, if not identical, to that called for by the rules.

Lately, though, that behavior has changed, enough that I have to wonder whether many traditional ethics remain in saltwater angling.

I first noticed it happening offshore, in the tuna fishery.

Big fish like giant bluefin tuna can’t be simply reeled in and dragged over the side of the boat.  There is a point in the fight when the angler manages to bring the close to the boat, with only a leader—perhaps 15 or 30 feet in length—separating the fish from the fisherman. 

Traditionally, that was one of the most critical points in the battle, as a crewmember would reach out with gloved hands to draw the fish alongside, while others in the crew stood by with gaffs, ready to sink them into the fish and end its struggles.

A lot of things could happen at that stage of the fight.  A strong fish could rip the leader out of the crewmember’s hands, and begin the fight anew.  Or, in doing so, could dive and sever the line on the boat’s running gear.  The hook could pull, and end the fight that way.  Or, if the crew and angler were strong and skillful, the fish could be captured and either released (rather than gaffed), or secured alongside.

But during the 1970s, just as I began fishing offshore, the tuna fishery changed.  A high-end market for bluefin opened up in Japan, and tuna buyers began stalking the docks at Montauk, Pt. Judith and Gloucester, and at other northeastern tuna ports, offering anglers thousands of dollars in cash for their fish.  That transmuted the bluefin from merely a worthy quarry, which generated bragging rights, maybe a tournament trophy, and celebratory drinks at a dockside bar, into a hard asset that could yield a substantial payday.

As so often happens when money arrives on the scene, ethics began to exit. 

It started with harpoons. 

A lot of sportfishing boats carried them even then, hoping to stick one of the swordfish that, in those days, were often spotted finning out on the surface within a couple dozen miles of shore.  But once a good part of the fleet began selling their bluefin, harpoons quickly began to replace gaffs in the cockpits of tuna boats, not only to minimize the risk of losing a fish, and the cash such fish represented, but also to end the fight sooner, in order to maximize the quality, and the cash value, of a bluefin’s flesh.

It was only a matter of time until harpoons were used to end fights with sharks and smaller tuna as well.  The certainty of capture that came with a dart, a buoy, and a hundred feet of nylon line replaced the challenge of leadering and gaffing an animal that was still struggling, with all its strength, to escape the hook.  

Harpoons arguably put more dead fish in the boat, but in doing so, they diminished the sport, as recreational fishing regressed a step back toward its commercial and subsistence origins.

Then, anglers began to abandon the duel that was always the essence of offshore angling, the struggle between one angler, who matched his or her strength and endurance against the raw the power of a big fish, in fights that could last for hours and ended only when one of the combatants—and which one was often in doubt—finally reached the limits of strength and endurance and could fight no more.  These were the fights memorialized by writers such as Ernest Hemingway and Zane Gray, by S. Kip Farrington and by Van Campen Heilner, whose works I read when I was young, and who inspired me to give offshore fishing a try.

To that coterie of anglers, the notion of giving up on a fish and handing the rod off to someone else was unthinkable; you fought a fish until you beat it or broke it off.  Sometimes, on charter boats, vacationers who weren’t really anglers and didn’t know how to fish would team up on a tuna or marlin, something that wasn’t discouraged by captains who might want to sell the fish or use it to advertise their boat, but among serious anglers, it just wasn’t done.

Today, I see even experienced anglers giving up when the fight gets a little tough and their muscles threaten to cramp, instead of fighting through the pain and taking on the responsibility of winning or losing the fight—that they started—without calling for aid.  It seems that instead of seeking a sporting challenge, they no longer seek more than another dead fish.

But at least they try to fight their fish, even if they fail to do it alone.  These days, more and more fishermen don’t even do that, instead leaving the rod in the holder so that the fish pulls against the boat, and not against the muscle and bone of the angler.  That lets them use lines stronger than the 130 pound maximum in IGFA rules, end fights more quickly, and put more dead fish in the boat.  In some fisheries, particularly deep-dropping for swordfish, electric reels are also a part of the equation.

Yes, they put fish in the boat, but if all you want is dead fish, it’s probably cheaper to buy them.  Wthout the challenge of the one-on-one fight, is a caught fish worth more than a bought one?

In a society where the ends seemingly justify the means, and a fish may be valued less than the Internet photo it stars in, the answer may, unfortunately, be yes.

Sportsmanship seems no longer valued.

While offshore fishing is a big stage, and what I most enjoy, making the decline of sportsmanship there particularly irksome to me, I see the same trends on the inshore grounds.  In fact, it was an inshore issue that led me to begin this essay.

Remember the Robert Ruark quote that I cited earlier?  Especially the “a sportsman…tries to preserve the very same thing that he kills a little of from time to time” part?

I was perusing an Internet forum, where the topic of circle hooks in the striped bass fishery came up.  The Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission will require states to adopt rules mandating the use of circle hooks when bait fishing for bass, in an effort to reduce the number of fish that are gut-hooked and die after release; the definition of bait will include rigged eels, and in some states, including New York will probably include pork rind trailers on lures such as bucktails as well. 

I can understand why anglers might not like such a broad rule; striped bass are rarely gut-hooked on rigged eels or bucktails, and some might legitimately believe that the circle hook requirement for such baits isn’t needed.  But the ASMFC’s Law Enforcement Committee advised that any exceptions to the circle hook rule would make it both more difficult to enforce and less effective. 

Thus, when I see anglers writing that they’ll continue to use rigged eels with J-hooks, in violation of any regulations, because law enforcement won’t see them or catch them in the dark of the night, I have to wonder where sportsmanship has gone.

The fact that someone dislikes a rule doesn’t justify them becoming a poacher, particularly when that rule is intended to protect the fish that they rely on for their sport.

I feel the same way about the far too many anglers and professional captains who ignore the ban on striped bass fishing in federal waters, some of whom claim to care about the fish, but nonetheless violate the rules designed to protect them.  Actions speak louder than words.

Whether we’re talking about targeting protected sharks in the surf, illegally removing tarpon from the water for photos, or kicking a bluefish back into the wash because someone can’t be troubled to release it properly, saltwater anglers seem to be losing their sense of sportsmanship, while also losing respect for their quarry.

I suspect that the Internet is part of the cause, with many fishermen, particularly inexperienced fishermen, caring more about posting photos of themselves with fish than they care about fishing itself.  

Part of it is companies’ related desire to push product, with various company reps and “pro team” members using photos of fish to hawk the latest and greatest rod, reel or lure, and the related desire of the pro team members to keep themselves relevant to anglers and to the industry.

There are likely other reasons as well, some cultural, some reflecting changing times and changing attitudes toward fish, people, and the sport of angling.

But notions of sportsmanship ought never go out of style.

 

 

 

 

 

 

COULD STATES HAVE A LEGAL OBLIGATION TO PROPERLY MANAGE MARINE FISHERIES?

Regular readers of this blog know that I am a strong supporter of the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act, because it sets forth a clear, legally enforceable framework for the conservation and management of marine fisheries.  Thanks to that framework, the number of federally managed fish stocks that remain overfished, or that are subject to overfishing, has declined substantially over the past two decades.

And regular readers of this blog also know that I am a regular critic of the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission, which is not bound by any legally enforceable standards for managing fisheries, and as a result has never, in its more than 75-year history, managed to rebuild even one overfished stock and maintain that stock at sustainable levels in the long term.

Thus, we have a federal fisheries management system with a clear legal obligation to conserve and properly manage fish stocks, and we have a regional management system with absolutely no legal obligation to do the same thing.

The next logical question to ask is whether the states, managing the fish present in each state’s waters, have any obligation to conserve and manage those stocks.

A lawsuit, recently filed in North Carolina, may help to answer that question.

The suit is Coastal Conservation Association v. North Carolina, and was filed in North Carolina’s General Court of Justice, Superior Court Division for Wake County on November 10 of this year.  It makes the novel argument that, under the ancient public trust doctrine, which dates back to Roman times, has been widely recognized in various forms since then, and was incorporated into North Carolina’s Constitution, the state holds North Carolina’s public marine resources as trustee for all of the residents of that state, an thus that

“for North Carolina’s coastal fisheries resources, the public-trust doctrine imposes a fiduciary duty on the State to manage and regulate the harvest of coastal finfish and shellfish in a way that protects the right of current and future generations of the public to use public waters to fish.  As a result, the state may not allow finfish or shellfish harvest gears or methods in public waters that generate undue wastage or impair the sustainability of coastal fisheries resources, which in turn threatens the rights of current and future generations of the public to use public waters to fish.

“The State cannot disclaim or otherwise avoid its duties as trustee under the public-trust doctrine.  In other words, the State does not have the option to simply ‘resign’ as trustee.  Nor may the General Assembly abrogate the State’s legal duty under the public-trust doctrine.  To the contrary, the duties of the State in managing public-trust resources for the benefit of the public are inviolable.  [internal numbering deleted]”

It’s an interesting argument, which the plaintiffs—and there are more than eighty of them, besides the Coastal Conservation Association—argue is supported by provisions of the North Carolina Constitution, which read

“The right of the people to hunt, fish, and harvest wildlife is a valued part of the State’s heritage and shall be forever preserved for the public good.  The people have a right, including the right to use traditional methods, to hunt, fish, and harvest wildlife, subject only to the laws enacted by the General Assembly and rules adopted pursuant to authority granted by the General Assembly to (i) promote wildlife conservation and management and (ii) preserve the future of hunting and fishing,”

and

“It shall be the policy of the State to conserve its lands and waters for the benefit of all its citizenry, and to this end it shall be a proper function of the State of North Carolina and its political subdivisions to…preserve as a part of the common heritage of this State its…estuaries [and] beaches.”

I’m not a North Carolina attorney, so I don’t know how much of the complaint reflects existing principles of that state’s laws, or how likely the state’s highest court—because this is the sort of case that, if the plaintiffs prevail, will only be finally won on appeal—is to entertain its core legal theory.  But the complaint seems to raise an intrinsically reasonable point, which is that if it’s North Carolina’s job to manage the state’s public resources, then the public has a right to expect that North Carolina will do that job well, and not allow the future health of such resources to be compromised in favor of short-term concerns.

After that, though, the complaint goes a little off-message, when it tries to shift blame for the allegedly poor state of North Carolina’s marine resources solely on the commercial fishery, and thus making the lawsuit not merely a demand for the state to manage its marine resources properly, but an us-against-them fight between the recreational and commercial fishing sectors by saying, among other things,

“In contrast to these public-trust rights of the public, the right of any business or individual to fish in public waters for profit is a narrow, limited privilege, afforded only by statute…When the State is determining appropriate policies or plans for managing coastal fisheries resources, that limited privilege granted to a relative few citizens or companies to fish for profit must yield in priority to the constitutionally protected public-trust rights of the general public.”

Again, I’m not a North Carolina attorney, so I don’t know whether there are court decisions in that state that might support such position.  

However, it strikes me that if a case is being built on public trust doctrine stretching back to Roman times, it probably ought to take account of the fact that purely recreational fishing is a relatively new phenomenon—Dame Juliana Berners, who is believed to have written Treatysse of fysshynge with an Angle, the first known work about recreational fishing, was born in 1388, while Isaac Walton’s The Compleat Angler was first published in 1653—and that any right to access public waters in order to fish that dates back a couple thousand years to the ancient Romans was almost certainly concerned with commercial fishing activities, and not recreational angling.

Thus, it would have probably been more appropriate for the complaint to avoid anti-commercial rhetoric, and instead concentrate on a theme that it mentions elsewhere, that

“Managing coastal fish stocks in the overall public interest would result not only in the ability of the fishing public to exercise its constitutionally-protected, public-trust right to fish, but would mean an overall increase in stock size, with more fish allocable to the commercial sector as well,”

because good fisheries management practices truly do benefit everyone engaged in fishing, whether commercial or recreational.

And if such good fisheries management practices necessarily involve outlawing trawling in estuaries, or the use of unattended gill nets, and have a greater immediate impact on the commercial fishing sector than they do on anglers, then that’s just the way things will have to be, but the point is that a lawsuit emphasizing good conservation and sustainable fisheries, which does not blame any one sector for fisheries problems, might have led to a more sympathetic hearing by the bench.

David Sneed, Executive Director of the Coastal Conservation Association’s North Carolina chapter, seemed to implicitly recognize that fact when he told the Carolina Public Press that

“The complaint is clear, however, that law-abiding commercial fishing license holders are not directly responsible for the poor state of North Carolina’s coastal fish stocks.”

But the language quoted above about “the right of any business or individual to fish in public waters for profit,” along with other language in the complaint that strikes a similar tone, renders the intent of the complaint far less clear than Mr. Sneed suggests.

Such an ambiguous message gives spokesmen for the commercial fishing industry an opportunity to spin the legal action as just another attack on that industry by recreational fishermen.  That is already happening, with the Carolina Public Press reporting that Glenn Skinner, Executive Director of the North Carolina Fisheries Association, a commercial advocacy group, said

“the commercial industry has been under attack from what he calls special-interest groups for decades.”

It also gave Mr. Skinner the opportunity to portray the plaintiffs in a selfish and unsympathetic light, by saying

“I find it interesting that they fail to mention the supporting businesses, restaurants and consumers who depend on commercial fishing for their livelihoods and access to this resource.”

It was a predictable response from a fishing industry spokesman, but it might have been avoided, or at least somewhat defanged, had the plaintiffs concentrated on management issues, and the benefits that everyone could enjoy if management improved, rather than trying to place part of the blame on the shoulders of people who aren’t even defendants in the action.

Having said that, should the plaintiffs prevail, and manage to hold North Carolina accountable for allegedly mismanaging the state’s fisheries, it would mark a watershed for fisheries management, and establish a precedent that might be adopted in other jurisdictions.  

Fisheries managers in other states would have reason to fear that if they did not do enough to ensure the sustainability of their states’ fish stocks, they could face litigation, too.

Whether or not that happens, the lawsuit has accomplished one thing already—it has impeached the credibility of the Coastal Conservation Association’s attacks on the federal fisheries management system, based on the claim that state managers do a better job and that state management better accommodates recreational fishermen. 

For example, the 2014 report, “A Vision for Managing America’s Saltwater Recreational Fisheries,” which the Coastal Conservation Association helped to produce and enthusiastically promoted once it was issued, claimed that

“Given its mandated commercial focus, the fact that the [National Marine Fisheries Service] has not embraced fisheries management practices that also meet the unique goals, needs and motivations of recreational anglers should come as no surprise…

“Many state natural resources agencies, particularly in the South, recognize the benefits of a vibrant recreational fisheries community and have managed to promote it while conserving their saltwater resources…”

Based on that allegation, the Coastal Conservation Association has called for states to take over responsibility for a number of federally managed species, most notably red snapper, in the Gulf of Mexico and on the Atlantic Coast; the Coastal Conservation Association’s preference for state-level management was echoed in a follow-up report, “A Vision for Marine Fisheries Management in the 21^st Century:  Priorities for the Next Administration,” which was released last October.

But in filing its lawsuit against North Carolina, the Coastal Conservation Association, which claims that state fisheries managers are favoring the commercial industry—the same claim that it made against NMFS in the original “Vision” report and throughout the red snapper debate in the Gulf of Mexico--has admitted through its actions that state fisheries managers are not inherently more virtuous than those at the federal level. 

Instead, the quality of state management decisions may be better or worse than those made by federal managers, depending on the state, the species involved and, subjectively speaking, whether the Coastal Conservation Association’s ox happens to be the one being gored by any particular management action.

If the lawsuit does nothing else, its implicit rejection of the “state managers know best” argument is enough to make it worthwhile.

However, it also has a chance of improving fisheries management in North Carolina, and maybe elsewhere on the coast.  Let's hope that it does.

It will be an uphill fight, but both fish and fishermen stand to benefit if it succeeds.

 

MARINE PROTECTED AREAS ARE BACK IN THE NEWS

 

I first got involved with the marine protected areas issue a little over 20 years ago, when members of the marine conservation community began to advocate for the creation of a broad network of no-take MPAs; if I recall correctly, they were calling for something like one-quarter or one-third of all U.S. waters to be placed off-limits to fishing, even relatively low-impact fishing such as catch-and-release angling.

At the time, I thought that it was one of the biggest miscues that such conservation groups ever engaged in, as they managed to alienate a large portion of the recreational fishing community, who had previously seen such organizations as allies, and gave some degree of credibility to some of the more radical “anglers’ rights” organizations and fishing industry voices, who opposed needed conservation measures in an effort to maintain higher short-term yields and, in the industry case, short-term profits.

Although such groups were clearly self-serving, and not acting in the long-term interests of either fishermen or fish stocks, they gained a lot of traction because the MPA advocates had a lot of problems explaining why anglers needed to be completely excluded from any particular section of ocean. 

While MPAs are arguably a needed part of the fisheries management toolbox, as there very well may be situations in which the only way to protect an imperiled fish stock is to place a limited area of reef, hard bottom, or sensitive estuary off-limits to everyone, the arbitrary creation of no-fishing zones, that excluded anglers from an equally arbitrary percentage of the ocean, seemed very much like a problem in search of a solution, and made it very easy for the radical anglers’ rights crowd to falsely characterize the marine conservation community as a bunch of environmental extremists who wanted to throw anglers off the water just because they didn’t like the idea of recreational fishing.

That’s when the so-called “Freedom to Fish Act” was drafted and introduced in Congress, in an effort to prevent the creation of no-take MPAs that excluded anglers unless it could be demonstrated that anglers were the cause of the problem that the MPA was supposed to cure, that less-restrictive measures wouldn’t solve that problem, and that angling would again be permitted once that the problem was solved.

Federal Freedom to Fish legislation never went anywhere as a stand-alone bill, although a later amendment to the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act did require that any area closure be based on the best scientific information available, include criteria to assess the closure’s conservation benefit, be subject to a timetable for review of the closure’s benefits, and that the closure be based on an assessment of its benefits and impacts, as compared to the benefits and impacts of other management measures. 

Over time, the rift between most saltwater anglers and the conservation community sort-of healed over, with the more responsible angling groups of the time managing to work with the conservation groups to pass the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Reauthorization Act of 2006.  In doing so, they managed to stave off efforts to weaken the law with the “flexibility” provisions favored by the anti-conservation fishing industry and anglers’ rights contingents. 

Still, while the outright hostility that erupted into the MPA/Freedom to Fish debate healed over, scars remained.  On the angling side, it was kind of like a broken leg set without the aid of a doctor—things were fixed up enough that people could work together again, but the relationship was seriously crippled.  That crippled relationship caused problems down the road, when issues that cried out for cooperation between the angling and conservation communities arose again—red snapper in the Gulf of Mexico might be the best example—but the bad taste left by the MPA effort made it difficult to rebuild the trust that had let the two groups work together, effectively, in earlier times.

Both the fish and the fishermen suffered as a result.

Now, it might be time to wonder whether the conservation community has learned from its past mistakes, or whether it’s again preparing for a trip down the MPA rabbit hole, just as it’s becoming clear that the only way to assure our ability to pass down healthy fish stocks to the next generation is for fishermen and marine conservation groups to work together as closely as humanly possible.

Because MPAs are in the news again, thanks to the introduction of H.R. 8632, the so-called Ocean-Based Climate Solutions Act of 2020, which would create marine protected areas that

“prohibit any commercial extractive or destructive human activity in at least 30 percent of the ocean under United States jurisdiction by 2030.”

While the 30 percent figure appears to be, and probably is, arbitrary, the so called “30 by 30” language reflects a global conservation goal, arising out of the Convention on Biological Diversity, to place that amount of the Earth’s lands and waters under meaningful protection over the next decade.

And, in all honesty, it might be a good idea.  As in every other facet of life, the devil will be in the details.  In this case, in how the phrase “commercial extractive or destructive human activity” is going to be interpreted.

The “commercial extractive” part is pretty easy to understand: No oil drilling, no undersea mining, no gill nets, no trawls, no longlines, etc.  I’d be more than happy to see my local section of continental shelf forever free of the threat of seismic surveys and the oil rigs—and spills—that might follow, and if tar balls never start washing up on the beach at Fire Island, I certainly won’t complain.

A lot of anglers might be looking at the seeming ban on commercial fishing, and thinking that their dreams would be answered, too—that H.R. 8632 would essentially represent a long-sought “gamefish bill” for 30 percent of U.S. waters, which would give them exclusive fishing rights in that part of the sea.  But if they’re thinking that way, they may get a very harsh wake-up call when someone finally decides what constitutes “destructive human activity.”

Given that anglers harvest the lion’s share of many coastal fish species, “destructive human activity” could easily be construed to include recreational fishing, too.

While that would certainly be a bad outcome, there are reasons to believe it won’t happen.  Language in H.R. 8632 sets out an MPA policy that, among other things,

“relies on the best available science;

“includes meaningful input from States, local communities, and Native American Tribes…;

“improves access to nature for all people…;

“provides ecological and geographic representation, taking into account that some Fishery Management Councils have taken action to ban the use of all bottom-tending fishing gear and all fishing gear with bycatch rates that adversely affect marine wildlife populations;…

“supports sustainable economic opportunity…;

“evaluates the negative and positive economic impacts…and considers ways to mitigate such negative impacts; [and]

“considers local and regional input in the design and implementation of protected areas, including input from stakeholders, and considers the cultural values, including seafaring and maritime heritage values, of the United States…  [emphasis added, internal numbering omitted]”

On the other hand, if the last four years have taught us anything, it is that an administration has a lot of leeway in how it interprets the scope of its power when engaged in the rulemaking process.  While recent rulemaking has generally supported resource extraction, and was contrary to the public interest in clean air, clean water, and sustainable natural resources, it’s not hard to imagine the pendulum swinging too hard the other way, and some future administration interpreting “destructive human activity” to include trolling for tuna or catching a couple of mahi for the freezer.

And while I can selfishly look at these things from the perspective of a recreational fisherman, the fact remains that not all commercial fishing is equally destructive, and that it’s easy to imagine smaller-scale commercial activities that don’t do any more harm than angling would, so long as landings are kept under control.  Yet a ban on “commercial extraction” would include such low-impact fisheries, too.

Certainly, commercial fishermen feel as if they’re in H.R. 8632’s crosshairs.  About eight hundred commercial fishermen signed a recent letter addressed to Rep. Raul Grijalva (D-NM), Chairman of the House of Representatives’ Committee on Natural Resources, objecting to the bill’s MPA provisions.  While those fishermen made a number of related arguments, the crux of their opposition was that the MPAs that the bill would create would deprive them of fishing grounds and economic benefits for no good reason.  The letter notes that

“In contrast with many international contexts—where MPAs are established to remedy a profoundly broken fisheries management system and a degraded marine environment—U.S. fisheries are overwhelmingly sustainable and successfully managed to Maximum Sustainable Yield.”

There seems to be scientific support for that position.

A paper that appeared in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America about a month ago, titled “A global network of marine protected areas for food,” garnered significant attention when it concluded that closing off just 5 percent more of the ocean in marine protected areas could result in future fish catches increasing by at least 20 percent.  When the House Committee on Natural Resources held a hearing on H.R. 8632 earlier this week, witnesses cited such paper in support of the bill’s MPA provisions.

However, the paper does not make a convincing case for creating more MPAs in United States waters, but seems to support the commercial fishermen’s letter when it notes that

“While it is unlikely that MPAs can significantly increase yield in well-managed fisheries, it is widely agreed that strategically designed MPAs can increase yield in overfished fisheries…Therefore, in regions where fisheries management is lacking, highly protected MPAs may simultaneously improve both fisheries catch and conservation if designed well.  [emphasis added]”

At the Natural Resources Committee hearing, the witnesses disagreed on the need for MPAs in U.S. waters.

Dr. Jane Lubchenko, who headed the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration from 2009-2013, and is currently a Distinguished Professor at the University of Oregon, called MPAs an

“underutilized tool to protect biodiversity, provide safe havens for wildlife, help recover depleted stocks and species, restore the ecological balance within an ecosystem, protect stores of carbon, provide reference areas for evaluating impacts of fishing, and enhance ecosystem resilience—on a permanent basis.”

But even recreational fishermen might have gotten a little nervous if they heard her then say that

“Only Fully Protected or Highly Protected MPAs provide the benefits listed above; Lightly and Minimally Protected Areas simply do not,”

as “Fully Protected” MPAs would certainly exclude anglers, while “Highly Protected” MPAs might also place heavy, and possibly unneeded, burdens on angling.

Once again, it comes down to the question of whether an MPA was arbitrarily created, or whether it was created to serve one or more of the purposes outlined in Dr. Lubchenko’s testimony.  An MPA established to evaluate the impacts of fishing, for example, might necessarily have to exclude anglers, but there is little reason for an MPA created to help recover depleted stocks of Pacific rockfish or deep-water grouper need exclude anglers fishing for billfish 600 feet above the bottom where the protected species reside. 

Yet a “Fully Protected” MPA would make no distinction between harmful and low-impact fishing activity; all would be banned.

Another witness, Dr. Ray Hilborn, a professor at the University of Washington, addressed such distinctions in his testimony, saying

“marine protected areas are simply the wrong tool for adapting to climate change.  There are three primary objectives of the 30x30 proposal; (1) to increase target species production, (2) to protect non-target species and (3) to protect sensitive habitats.  MPAs will either not help or there are better tools.

“Both theory and empirical evidence shows that you cannot increase target species yield with MPAs unless overfishing is wide spread.  Overfishing is rare in the U.S. and we would not expect the MPAs to increase the yield from our fish stocks.  Certainly there are typically more fish in the closed areas than outside, but remember that the fishing effort that was previously inside the MPAs has been moved outside.  The evidence shows that when MPAs are put in place and stocks are well managed, abundance goes up inside the closed area, and goes down outside with no-net gain…

“Certainly, vulnerable marine ecosystems need protection, but many Fishery Management Councils are doing that—and in a way that is science-based and has credibility with industry and other stakeholders.  Moreover, these areas only need protection from mobile bottom contact gear such as trawls and dredges.  There is no need to ban midwater trawling, purse seining, longlining or surface gill nets to protect corals, sponges or sea grasses…”

Clearly, the two scientists come at the issue from different perspectives.  Dr. Lubchenko has spent much of her career as an academic scientist, with much of her research funded by non-governmental organizations, or as a government employee, while Dr. Hilborn, although also an academic who receives significant NGO funding, has many close ties with the fishing industry, receives substantial NGO funding as well, and over the years has examined fisheries issues from a harvest-oriented perspective. 

Yet the fact that the two recognized experts can disagree on the need for MPAs suggests that Congress, and the conservation community, should be reluctant to establish a network of no-take MPAs in U.S. waters. 

MPAs, imposed to address a specific problem, and no more restrictive than necessary to achieve their goals, can be valuable management tools.

But no-take MPAs, imposed arbitrarily merely to achieve an equally arbitrary percentage goal, will alienate both the recreational and the commercial fishing communities, drive wedges between them and marine conservation advocates, and diminish stakeholder support for conservation efforts.

30 by 30 might look good on paper, but in the end, by creating a schism among those who should naturally be allies, it is likely to cause more harm than good.

 

FISHERIES MANAGEMENT: HOW MUCH RISK IS OK?

Let’s start out by accepting one fact:  Nothing is certain. 

Thanks to the financial crisis of 2008, we’ve all now heard of “black swan events,” which have been defined as

“an extremely negative event or occurrence that is impossibly difficult to predict…events that are unexpected and unknowable.”

In his 2001 book, Fooled by Randomness, Wall Street trader Nassim Nicholas Taleb wrote that a black swan event is one that is unpredictable, results in severe and widespread consequences and, after it occurs, people will claim had, in fact, been predictable.

A website dedicated to black swan events—named, not illogically, blackswanevents.org—explains that

“A Black Swan event is an event in human history that was unprecedented and unexpected at the point in time it occurred.  However, after evaluating the surrounding context, domain experts (and in some cases laymen) can usually conclude: ‘it was bound to happen…’

“The term Black Swan originates from the (Western) belief that all swans are white because these were the only ones accounted for.  However, in 1697 the Dutch explorer Willem de Vlamingh discovered black swans in Australia.  This was an unexpected event in (scientific) history and profoundly changed zoology.  After the black swans were discovered, it seemed obvious that black swans had to exist just as other animals with varying colors were known to exist as well…”

Putting that in a fisheries context, the existence of black swan events, and the unavoidable fact that even highly improbable events can occur, means that even the best thought-out management measures may, on occasion, fail to achieve their goals.

To even approach management certainty—say, a 99 percent probability of success—would require fishery managers to impose extremely strict management measures, that would unreasonably restrict landings out of the fear that a very unlikely event would, in fact, happen.

So the question that managers must address, in every managed fishery, is how risk-averse harvest restrictions need to be in order to provide reasonable protection for the managed stock, while not unnecessarily restricting fishermen’s catch.

In federal fisheries, there is a clear legal answer, established by the 2000 United States Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit when it decided Natural Resources Defense Council v. Daley.  For a federal fishery management measure to pass legal scrutiny, such measure must have at least a 50 percent probability of achieving its statutorily required goal.

That means, of course, that a management measure with a 50 percent probability of failure is, from a legal perspective, good enough for government work, at least when the feds are involved.  

The Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission, as well as individual states managing fish in their own waters, aren’t even bound by that modest standard, and may legally adopt measures more likely to fail than succeed. 

That happened earlier this year at the ASMFC, when its Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board approved state measures intended to implement Addendum VI to Amendment 6 to the Atlantic Striped Bass Interstate Fishery Management Plan.  Amendment VI was intended to end overfishing and reduce fishing mortality to or below the target level, yet the ASMFC approved management measures that had only a 42 percent probability—in other words, a 58 percent probability they would be incapable—of achieving the latter goal. 

In approving such questionable measures, the ASMFC seemed willing to accept an inordinate amount of risk, given that the striped bass stock is already overfished.

Which brings us back to the basic question:  How much risk is OK?

In many cases, the regional fishery management councils have merely adopted the 50 percent standard from NRDC v. Daley, accepting a 50 percent probability of failure in exchange for a larger current harvest.  In ASMFC and state-level fisheries, the risk appetite has historically been even larger, with short-term economic considerations, and the demands of various special interest groups, making probabe long-term failure a too-frequently acceptable option. 

In Louisiana, where speckled trout have been overfished for a number of years, managers talked about how they

“walk a tightrope between getting full public use out of a renewable resource and harming a fishery at least in the short term,”

and try to keep harvest just low enough to prevent recruitment overfishing, and avert a stock collapse.

When managers “walk a tightrope,” risk “harming a fishery at least in the short term,” and “try to keep harvest just low enough to…avert a stock collapse,” you can be sure that they’re accepting high levels of risk, and making themselves extremely vulnerable to black swan events.

Accepting risk that managers know could result in harm to a fishery, and might, if they get something wrong, lead to a stock collapse is, to be blunt, irresponsible.

But where, short of that, should the line be drawn?

Many management bodies take an ad hoc approach to risk, setting levels that seem appropriate at the time, or at least appropriate enough, to enough of the managers present, to pass on a sometimes close vote.  However, at least two management organizations, the Mid-Atlantic Fishery Management Council and the ASMFC, have attempted to take a more ordered approach to risk management.  

Their efforts to date, and the contrasts between them, are worth a closer look

The Mid-Atlantic Council came first, establishing a risk policy and Acceptable Biological Catch control rule in 2011.  According to the Council,

“A risk policy specifies the Council’s acceptable probability of overfishing associated with the current biomass level compared to the biomass target.”

Thus, the amount of risk that the Council is willing to accept is directly related to the health of the stock, as compared to established biomass reference points.  That risk level is then part of the calculation made to determine the Acceptable Biological Catch.  As the Council explains,

“…When making an [Acceptable Biological Catch] recommendation, the [Scientific and Statistical Committee] applies the ABC control rule that accounts for scientific uncertainty as well as the Council’s risk policy.  Because the ABC cannot exceed the [Overfishing Limit] estimate, the ABC control rule generally specifies the amount by which the ABC should be reduced from the [Overfishing Limit]…  [emphasis added]”

It should be noted that the Mid-Atlantic Council’s risk guidelines are strictly scientific in nature; they are structured around the health of the fish stock, preventing overfishing, and accounting for scientific uncertainty.  However, in 2019, the Council renewed its effort to examine its risk policy, in a process that

“should assess the short and long term trade-offs between stock biomass protection, fishery yield, and economic benefits.”

That process has been completed, and the upshot is a proposed change to the Council’s risk policy that is still essentially science-based, although it does liberalize harvest a bit, particularly when stock abundance rises well above the biomass target.  The National Marine Fisheries Service will be accepting public comments on the proposal through November 26, and explains that it is considering the action

“to adjust the Council’s risk policy by accepting a higher level of risk…for stocks that are healthy and either at or above biomass targets.  For stocks not subject to a rebuilding plan that have a [biomass below the biomass target, the maximum probability of overfishing] would decrease linearly from a maximum value of 45 percent until [such probability] becomes zero [when biomass is 10 percent or less of the biomass target].  For stocks with biomass that exceeds [the biomass target, the probability of overfishing] would increase linearly from 45 percent to a maximum of 49 percent when [biomass is at or above 150 percent of the biomass target].”

That represents a substantial liberalization at higher levels of abundance, as the current risk policy caps the probability of overfishing at 40 percent, even when the biomass exceeds the biomass target by a substantial amount.  While the wisdom of such liberalization can be debated—and anyone who has an opinion on the subject probably should submit a comment before the deadline—the virtue of the revised risk policy is that it is still closely tied to stock health; while it might be intended to provide greater socioeconomic benefits when fish are abundant, it will still provide for strong protections should abundance show a potentially dangerous decline.

The ASMFC’s risk policy, which is currently being developed, takes a different tack, and if adopted, will not necessarily scale risk to the health of a fish stock.  And while the Council’s risk policy is intended to be applied across all stocks in the same manner, the ASMFC is contemplating an approach to risk which can be amended by each individual species management board.

Instead of creating the sort of omnibus policy adopted by the Mid-Atlantic Council, the ASMFC is trying to build what it calls a “risk management tool.”  A document distributed at the ASMFC’s August meeting, which described the ASMFC’s proposed risk management approach, stated that

“…The purpose of the Commission’s Risk and Uncertainty Policy is to provide a consistent yet flexible mechanism to account for both scientific and management uncertainty in the Commission’s decision-making process in order to protect all Commission-managed stocks from the risk of overfishing, while minimizing any adverse social, economic, or ecosystem effects…”

Unlike the Council, the ASMFC isn't legally required to set a harvest limit that avoids overfishing or, if necessary, allows an overfished stock to rebuild.  Thus, unlike the Council, which places primary emphasis on the health of fish stocks, the ASMFC's risk policy will again try to achieve the often mutually exclusive goals of maintaining stock health while minimizing short term economic impacts, the same path that has led it to consistently fail to rebuilding and then maintain fish stocks at sustainable levels in the long term. 

To make its risk assessment, the ASMFC contemplates using a “Risk & Uncertainty Decision Tool” that will consider various biological, social, and economic factors, give a set weight to each, and then return a value intended to inform the relevant species management board about how much risk it ought to assume.  

Such factors will include the status of the stock relative to biological reference points such as biomass and fishing mortality, scientific and management uncertainty, and the role that the stock plays in the coastal ecosystem.  However, it will also consider commercial and recreational short-term and long-term “economic and social considerations;” a comment in the document notes that

“The [relevant species Management] Board can adjust the weightings of short-term and long-term socioeconomic considerations in order to indicate their relative preference for mitigating short-term negative impacts versus ensuring long-term sustainability.”

Thus, while even the Mid-Atlantic Council’s proposed, less restrictive risk policy is ultimately intended to maintain healthy fish stocks that are sustainable in the long term, the ASMFC’s proposed approach to risk will allow that management body to continue making the same old mistakes in a new, more formal way, and continue to accept risk levels adverse to the long-term interests of fish stocks in order to maintain short-term economic gains.

Thus, there is no consensus on the level of risk to the long-term healt of fish that stocks managers should routinely assume. 

The Mid-Atlantic Council has developed a logical and structured approach to the question that places the highest priority on the health of fish stocks, although the Council is still trying to determine, at least in the case of a healthy stock, how much risk might be acceptable.

The ASMFC, on the other hand, is still having problems setting priorities, and has not yet come to the conclusion that there is some point at which economic concerns no longer justify exposing a troubled stock to elevated levels of risk.

But that’s a decision that not only the ASMFC, but all fisheries managers, will ultimately be forced to make.  Risk will always be part of the management equation, and the sort of uncertainty that hatches black swans will never be entirely purged from the management process.  In such an environment, excepting too much risk, in order to maintain short-term profits, is a near-certain way to assure that, in the long term, something bad will happen, and both the fish and the fishermen will suffer as a result.

 

 

SHOOTING IN THE DARK: MARINE RECREATIONAL FISHING REGULATIONS FOR 2021

 

A few days ago, the National Marine Fisheries Service, following the advice of the Mid-Atlantic Fishery Management Council, released proposed specifications for the 2021 Atlantic bluefish fishery.  If such specifications are ultimately approved, and there is little reason to believe that they won’t be, the recreational annual catch target will remain the same as it was this year—13.51 million pounds—although a roughly 25 percent increase in the estimate of dead discards will reduce the recreational harvest limit from 9.48 to 8.34 million pounds, about a 12 percent cut.

The Mid-Atlantic Council made those recommendations in August, but decided to postpone any decisions on recreational management measures until its December meeting, when more data from 2020 recreational bluefish landings would presumably be available.  Management measures for three other recreationally important species, summer flounder, scup, and black sea bass, will be set at the same time.

But even then, things are going to get tricky because, due to various legal and practical constraints related to COVID-19, whatever 2020 data might become available will be significantly less, and significantly less precise, than in more typical years.  TheCouncil’s Bluefish Monitoring Committee has acknowledged that it

“is concerned with the [Marine Recreational Information Program] landing and effort estimates for 2020 as a result of the COVID pandemic.”

The Monitoring Committee advised that it

“will review the 2020 projections in November, but may also consider other approaches to develop [expected recreational landings estimates] that have not yet been discussed.”

That makes sense.  There is going to be a lot of uncertainty in the management process this year.

What makes less sense is the Monitoring Committee’s—and ultimately NMFS’ and the Council’s—decision not to include such uncertainty in their calculations of the recreational harvest limit. 

Remember that bluefish are currently overfished, and that the Council, in collaboration with the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission, is in the process of drafting a rebuilding plan, which must be implemented about one year from now—as a practical matter, in time for the 2022 season.  When managing an overfished stock, prior to implementation of a rebuilding plan, it would only make sense for fisheries managers to proceed with caution, and resolve any ambiguities in favor of the resource. 

If there is substantial management uncertainty, it would seem to make sense to set a recreational harvest target somewhat below the recreational harvest limit, to account for at least some of that uncertainty, and better ensure that anglers don’t overfish.

But in the case of bluefish, that’s just not happening.  The Monitoring Committee addressed the issue ahead of the August Mid-Atlantic Council meeting, saying

“in the Fishery Management Plan, management uncertainty is accounted for prior to the sector specific annual catch target (ACT), which means management uncertainty will affect both the resulting recreational harvest limit (RHL) and commercial quota (CQ), even if management uncertainty exists in only one of the two sectors.  The [Monitoring Committee] recognizes that this may be a concern moving forward since reductions for management uncertainty for only one sector is not feasible…

“Within both sectors of the bluefish fishery, the 2017-2020 fishing years contain significant fluctuations in fishery performance.  The 2018 fishing year had the lowest bluefish landings in recent history.  The 2019 fishing year warranted major reductions in the bluefish bag limits for the recreational sector and reductions in bluefish quota as bluefish was deemed overfished.  The 2020 fishing year has been heavily disrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic and may result in unreliable catch and landings estimates…”

Those comments suggest that the Monitoring Committee believes that there is substantial management uncertainty going into 2021.  Thus, it’s difficult to understand why, after making that statement, it followed up by saying

“Thus, the [Monitoring Committee] recommends no reductions be taken for management uncertainty (status quo) until sector specific management uncertainty is reviewed, we develop a better grasp of commercial and recreational discards, and review the results of the next research track assessment.”

 It almost seems a non sequitur.  The Monitoring Committee previously admitted that the scope of the commercial, and particularly the recreational, discards are unknown.  It lacks precise data on recreational catch and effort in this COVID year.  Fishery performance is demonstrating significant annual fluctuations.  Those are the sort of considerations that call out for a management uncertainty buffer.

After all, once managers get “a better grasp of commercial and recreational discards,” for example, the level of management uncertainty will be less than it is now, and would reduce the need for such a buffer.

Although it’s never explicitly stated, the Monitoring Committee’s reluctance to include a buffer for management uncertainty probably results from the fact that the far greater share of the uncertainty is on the recreational side, but that any uncertainty-related reduction would be shared by the commercial and recreational sectors.  With the commercial sector already taking a big hit from both the quota reduction and the end of transfers of fish from the recreational to the commercial allocation, the Monitoring Committee may well have felt that commercial fishermen shouldn’t be made to suffer for the ambiguities in the recreational data.

The problem is that the overfished bluefish stock shouldn’t be forced to suffer for such ambiguities, either.

And the truth is that the Mid-Atlantic Council, like most regional fishery management councils, has been very reluctant to adopt management uncertainty buffers, even in fisheries such as black sea bass, where managers have a very difficult time constraining recreational harvest to the annual harvest limit.  In the Gulf of Mexico, where anglers have chronically overfished their red snapper quota, the Gulf of Mexico Fishery Management Council only imposed such a buffer after being ordered to do so by a federal court.

Now, given the uncertainties—of both the scientific and management sort—associated with the 2020 season, there is a real need for fisheries managers to embrace the management uncertainty buffer.

With the Northeast Fisheries Science Center’s usual trawl surveys halted in response to COVID-19, and many state surveys also scaled down, halted, or delayed, managers don’t have a good idea of the current health of fish stocks, the trajectory of such stocks, or what 2019 recruitment looked like.  Thus, while managers might have some feel for what stock condition’s should be, they don’t know what fish abundance actually is, and they don’t have good data on the number of new fish being recruited into the population.

At the same time, managers lack some important data on how many fish anglers took out of the system this year.  While MRIP sampling in Rhode Island was never interrupted, on the rest of the East Coast, there was little sampling done in March or April; sampling in Wave 3 (May/June) and Wave 4 (July/August) was limited, and not expected to get too much better during the remainder of the year.  Dr. Richard Cody, the Chief of the Fisheries Statistics Division at NMFS’ Office of Science and Technology, characterized MRIP’s spatial and temporal coverage throughout 2020 as “spotty.”

NMFS has stated that

“Given the extent of these data gaps and the expectation that COVID-19 will continue to impact sampling over the course of the year, the agency will not publish preliminary catch estimates for March-December 2020.  Instead, we will review the catch data our partners are able to collect in 2020 as a whole before selecting an estimation approach and publishing final catch estimates in April 2021, in accordance with our standard publication schedule.

“This unforeseen challenge to recreational fishing data collection and the production of catch estimates is being evaluated by fisheries managers to determine the best way to address in-season Accountability Measures and/or determine appropriate management measures for 2021.”

The lack of reasonably precise catch data is particularly troubling given anecdotal reports that, because they either weren’t working or were working from home, more people went fishing this year than fished in the recent past.  That was certainly true where I fish, on the South Shore of New York’s Long Island; opening day of New York’s fluke (summer flounder) season saw Great South Bay’s channels clogged with boats, although fish were few and far between, and there were certainly far more boats than usual fishing offshore wrecks on the first day of the black sea bass season.  The beaches were even more crowded, as people who didn’t own boats flocked to the shore, day and night, to pursue striped bass and other species.

It’s reasonable to believe that such increased angling effort led to higher recreational landings, but without good MRIP data, we just don’t know.  There is a lot of management uncertainty.  So much so, that in a very real sense, managers are really just shooting in the dark when they try to estimate what the recreational catch might be.

Thus, it would only be wise for the regional fishery management councils, NMFS, and the ASMFC to take such uncertainty into account when they set recreational management measures for 2021.

Yes, there’s a chance that, if they do so, management measures might be a bit more restrictive than they need to be, and so leave a few extra fish in the water.

But leaving too many fish in the water is still better than taking too many out, particularly when dealing with bluefish, and other overfished stocks.

For the first rule of shooting in the dark is making sure that you’re not killing off the very thing that you’re trying to preserve.