CONSERVATION:: THE LOST KEY TO HIGHER COD LANDINGS

 We see it at just about every fisheries meeting, or at least those where more restrictive regulations are under discussion. 

Someone, maybe a state fishery manager, maybe a representative of the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission or a regional fishery management council, will stand up in front of the crowd and, after carefully laying out the science and landings data affecting a particular fishery, will explain why landings must be reduced to maintain the health of the relevant fish stock.

At that point the circus usually begins, with elements of the commercial and recreational fishing industries contesting the need for new regulations, telling the biologists that their science is wrong, and complaining that any new rules would put them out of business.

While that pattern seems to hold true regardless of the fish being managed, it is a particular fit to the New England cod fishery, where both the Georges Bank and Gulf of Maine stocks have been repeatedly found to be very badly depleted, fishermen have continuously and adamantly argued that existing regulations are too severe, and are forcing them out of business.

But some recent research, which examined long-term harvest patterns, suggests that if fishermen had been quicker to embrace regulation, and if conservation measures were imposed on Atlantic cod before the fishing fleet had an opportunity to deplete fish stocks, cod landings would be much higher and more profitable today.

That study looked not at the cod population off New England, but instead focused farther north, on the cod caught off Canada’s Newfoundland and Labrador, using catch data that reached back all the way to 1508, and extended forward to the present time.  It found that, for almost all of that period, cod abundance remained stable, and that it wasn’t until the 1960s that it began to decline.

The study also found that, once the decline began, Canadian regulators missed a golden opportunity to halt the decline, and create a cod fishery that was sustainable in the long term.  But, because such opportunity was missed, the number of cod currently swimming off Newfoundland and Labrador is probably only about 2% of the long-term average.

Throughout the 1700s and 1800s, Newfoundland/Labrador cod landings probably ranged between 100,000 and 200,000 metric tons, or roughly 220 million to 440 million pounds.  The study’s authors calculated that, if appropriate management measures to rebuild and conserve the stock had been put in place, landings near the higher end of that range could have been sustained over the long term.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, after landings began to spike in the 1960s, eventually reaching 810,000 metric tons (1.78 billion pounds) in 1968, much of it landed by fleets from foreign nations fishing off the Canadian coast, the stock began to decline rapidly.  In 1977, the Canadian government finally acted, and excluded foreign vessels from its exclusive economic zone.

Canada’s actions paralleled those taken a year earlier by the United States, when it passed the Fishery Conservation and Management Act of 1976, the first and largest step toward the U.S. law known as the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act. 

The two nations continued to follow a similar path when both forced most foreign fishing boats out of their waters, but failed to adequately regulate their own fishing fleets.

In the United States, that failure led to domestic fishermen ramping up their cod fishing effort.  There were 825 boats fishing out of New England ports in 1977; by 1983, that number had increased to 1,423.  The additional boats were not only newer, but also larger and equipped with more modern fishing gear.  As a result, Georges Bank cod landings peaked at 53,000 tons (106 million pounds) peaked in 1982.  After that landings, and the cod stock, entered a sharp decline.

In Canada, the government saw cod as a way to boost the economy of Newfoundland, a place where, in the words of a Discover Magazine article, the people were

“poor, unemployed, and still living, some of them, in outports that could not be reached by road.  Past efforts to diversify the economy had more or less failed.”

Thus, the government sought to increase domestic cod landings, so that Newfoundlanders could catch the fish that were once taken by the foreign fleet.  Even though the spawning stock had decreased by 94% since the early 1960s as a result of the combined Canadian and foreign harvest, Canadian regulators decided that, with the foreign fleet gone, cod abundance would increase as well.  They were wrong, and by 1985 or so, the stock entered into a further decline. 

Biologists began to become aware of the problem but, instead of cutting back landings and rebuild the stock, the government was too invested in its plans to expand the fishery.  The cuts needed to recover the stock would have caused thousands of people to lose their jobs, at least in the short term.  The government, preferring the politically correct solution over the biologically correct one, did not heed the scientists’ advice, and only reduced quotas by a trivial amount.

As a result, scientists now estimate that in 1991, Newfoundland fishermen caught fully half of the adult cod then living off the Newfoundland coast.  No population of large fish can stand that level of removals, and so the next year, the Canadian government shut down the Newfoundland cod fishery.  In its effort to avoid imposing a harvest reduction that would cause short-term economic pain in the fishing industry, the government set itself on a path that would lead to a complete closure of the fishery, and put 30,000 Newfoundlanders out of work.

Today, the only cod fisheries that exist off Newfoundland are small-scale subsistence and recreational fisheries, fisheries used in scientific surveys, and what has been labeled a “small-scale commercial stewardship fishery.”  In combination, they land about 10,000 metric tons—22 million pounds—of cod each year, about 5% of the fishery’s potential long-term yield—if it had been properly managed.  And even that relatively modest amount is probably too great a harvest to allow the Newfoundland cod to rebuild.

Thus, a fishery that provided food to much of the Western world for over 400 years has all but disappeared, at first due to managers’ failure to recognize that it was in peril, and later due to government’s failure to elevate the biological needs of the stock over the political preferences of the bureaucrats in charge of the fishery.

Had conservation measures been adopted in the late 1970s, when the foreign fleet was kicked out, that would have prevented the growth of domestic landings, Newfoundland could have had a vital and economically important commercial cod fishery today.

Instead, only the bitter dregs of a once-great fishery remain.  And even so, landings remain to high to allow the fishery to rebound, even if that can only happen at some remote time in the future.

While scant time remains, will New England take heed of what Newfoundland teaches.

Or will it blindly take the same road?

GULF RED SNAPPER: TEXANS IN GLASS HOUSES SHOULDN'T THROW STONES

When it comes to hypocrisy, red snapper anglers in the Gulf of Mexico, particularly those represented by the Coastal Conservation Association, are the gift that just keeps on giving.

They have deemed the federal fishery management system “broken” simply because it doesn’t allow them to chronically overfish the Gulf red snapper stock.

They have condemned that management system for imposing short recreational red snapper seasons, but never cared to admit that such short seasons are needed to balance extremely long state-waters seasons, when many red snapper are caught.

They fought against a “sector separation” amendment that potentially gave the for-hire fleet a longer federal waters season than the private boats had, but supported long—sometimes year-long—state waters seasons that extended well beyond the federal season, when private boats could fish while federally-permitted for-hire vessels could not.

They oppose the existing “catch share” program that allows commercial fishermen to purchase and sell the right to catch a given quantity of red snapper, but supported, and even helped to design, a different catch share program that would have allowed them to purchase and sell the right to catch a given amount of red snapper.

They hailed a federal fishery program that allowed states to set red snapper seasons in federal waters, then cried like spoiled children when held accountable for state decisions that allowed them to kill too many fish.

They…

Well, you get the idea.

This week, comments made by the Coastal Conservation Association may have taken that organization's trademark hypocrisy to a whole new level.

It begins,

“The recent announcement by Texas Parks and Wildlife Department to close the state-water red snapper season on Nov 15 for the rest of the year is an unfortunate consequence of NOAA Fisheries continued oppressive control of the fishery and the dysfunctional relationship the federal agency has fostered with state fisheries managers.”

Thus, the comments start off on the wrong foot, because closing the Texas red snapper season was, first and foremost, a consequence of Texas’ recreational red snapper fishermen exceeding their state’s recreational red snapper quota last year, and having to make good for their overage by catching fewer in 2021.  

But admitting that truth would also suggest that recreational red snapper fishermen have some responsibility for their own actions, and that’s a notion that the Coastal Conservation Association has been trying to squelch for many years.

Digging down to the next layer, the CCA seems to be avoiding the fact that if anyone other than the fishermen themselves ought to be blamed for the closure, it is the CCA itself.  For many years, Texas never closed its state red snapper season.  It allowed fishermen to take twice as many snapper as federal rules permitted, and let those fish be an inch shorter, too. 

But then the CCA. and its fellow members of the Center for Sportfishing Policy, convinced the National Marine Fisheries Service to adopt a new management approach that allocated each state bordering the Gulf of Mexico its own recreational quota, allowed such states to set the recreational seasons in both state and adjacent federal waters, and held anglers accountable for any overages of their states’ quotas.

The Center for Sportfishing Policy was so supportive of that new approach to management, even when it was still in its experimental stage, that it released a statement saying

“Recreational anglers and industry stakeholders are applauding the decision by NOAA Fisheries within the U.S. Department of Commerce and anticipate the Gulf states will finally be able to prove their effectiveness in managing red snapper off their coasts.”

Jeff Angers, President of the Center, gushed

“We owe a great deal of thanks to Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross for his resolve in finding a solution to the red snapper management mess in the Gulf of Mexico.  This is a huge step forward for recreational anglers.  We are delighted to see a new level of cooperation between state and federal fishery managers and a respect for recreational fisheries at the federal level like we have never seen before.”

In comments to the Gulf of Mexico Fishery Management Council, supporting an amendment that would make such state control of federal-waters seasons a permanent part of the fishery management plan, the Coastal Conservation Association wrote

“Coastal Conservation Association applauds the Gulf of Mexico Fishery Management Council and the Gulf states for their efforts on Amendment 50—State Management of Recreational Red Snapper.  We commend the state fish and wildlife agencies of the Gulf Coast not only for taking on this task but for developing a comprehensive plan for how they will cooperatively manage this resource going forward and provide greater access to it for their citizens.

“We have been encouraged by the effort put forth in this amendment by the state fisheries directors to recognize and address the unique aspects of the recreational red snapper fishery in different regions of the Gulf…With support from Congressmen, governors, and anglers, the state directors agreed to take on management of red snapper on a more permanent basis not only because they saw no other viable options, but because they knew they could do a better job.  And they have…”

Texas lost its ability to maintain a year-round state waters season when the new management program was approved.

So, when it turned out that state fishery managers’ “better job” wasn’t quite as good as people might have hoped, and that the seasons established by Texas and some other states allowed recreational fishermen to kill too many red snapper and face pound-for-pound paybacks as a result, it would have been reasonable for the Coastal Conservation Association to take responsibility and tell anglers, including its members, that

“We got the red snapper management program that we asked for.  It’s new, and like any new program, it’s going to take some time to work out the bugs.  It looks like we took home too many red snapper last year, and we’re going to have to accept some accountability as a result.”

But, as noted before, accepting responsibility isn’t really the CCA’s strong point.

Instead of doing so, it once again threw a tantrum, with its spokesman, Ted Venker, wailing and whining and blaming the National Marine Fisheries Service (a/k/a “NOAA Fisheries”) for closing the Texas season.

“This is an agency that refuses to admit it is ever wrong but expects perfection in everyone else.  The closure in Texas and the ongoing situation in Alabama and Mississippi [where anglers grossly overfished their state snapper allocations] make it very clear that NOAA Fisheries will continue to insist on tying the future of red snapper to its history of mistakes, bad data, greed, and politics.  The only way to truly fix this fishery is give full management of the fishery to the states once and for all.”

Overdose on hypocrisy yet?  Because even a cursory analysis makes it clear that Venker’s words, and phrases like “refuses to admit it is ever wrong but expects perfection in everyone else,” and “history of mistakes, bad data, greed, and politics,” are far more applicable to the Coastal Conservation Association than to NOAA Fisheries.

Just think about it:  In all the years that the red snapper debate has been going on, have you ever heard the CCA say that federal fishery managers just might be right?  About anything?

In 2007, NMFS instituted a catch share program in the Gulf’s commercial red snapper fishery.  Since that program was instituted, the commercial sector hasn’t once overfished its allocation, while the recreational allocation is regularly exceeded.  Yet the CCA claims that

“Catch-share fishery programs don’t pass the smell test,”

After fourteen years without a commercial overage, the CCA still won’t admit that catch shares work in the commercial red snapper fishery. 

And the CCA was obviously wrong in believing that allowing the states to set the red snapper seasons won’t prevent recreational paybacks, but it won't admit that, either.

Instead, it picks away at every federal fishery management decision, trying to find the slightest reason to level criticism against NMFS, even if it has to take liberties with the facts to do so.  A recent screed, in which it assumed that every boat fishing for red snapper out of Alabama ports had only a single person on board, is a case in point.

So who, exactly, “refuses to admit it is ever wrong but expects perfection in everyone else?”

It certainly doesn't seem to be NMFS.

As far as “a history of mistakes, bad data, greed, and politics” goes, we’ll have to take those one by one.

“A history of mistakes” and “bad data” more or less go hand in hand.  

With respect to bad data, the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act, which governs the actions of federal fisheries managers, requires that

“Conservation and management measures shall be based upon the best scientific information available.”

Any management decision that is not based on such information may be challenged in court.

So if NOAA Fisheries was actually basing its red snapper management on bad data, one would expect to see the CCA filing lawsuits challenging such decisions.  Or, more precisely, because the CCA does file a lawsuit from time to time, one would expect to see the CCA winning lawsuits based on challenges to NOAA Fisheries’ data.

The only red snapper lawsuit that CCA appears to have filed over the past decade was Coastal Conservation Association v. United States Department of Commerce, in which the CCA challenged a rule that would allow the for-hire red snapper fleet to be regulated differently from private boat anglers.  The matter was decided by the United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit on January 17, 2017.  CCA lost.

If we go also consider suits in which the CCA intervened in an effort to affect the outcome, we find one more, Guindon v. Pritzker, a 2014 decision, was filed in the United States District Court for the District of Columbia.  Commercial red snapper fishermen brought suit against NMFS, claiming that they were harmed by NMFS’ repeated failures to hold recreational fishermen in the Gulf of Mexico accountable for chronically overfishing their red snapper quota.  CCA challenged the plaintiff’s right to maintain the lawsuit, and also argued that the plaintiffs were not challenging NMFS’ actions, but rather its inaction, and that such inaction was not amenable to judicial review.  CCA lost.

Suits that the CCA actually won over the past year, at least with respect to red snapper, don’t seem to appear.

So the courts seem to be saying that it is CCA who has a "history of mistakes."

But when it comes to bad data, it’s also important to see what the scientists say. 

Back in 2017, the National Academy of Sciences reviewed the Marine Recreational Information Program, and found that, although it wasn’t perfect and could use some improvement with respect to fish, such as red snapper, that were subject to in-season management,

“Work to redesign the National Marine Fisheries Service’s recreational fishery survey program (now referred to as the Marine Recreational Information Program) has yielded impressive progress over the past decade in providing more reliable data to fisheries managers.  Major improvements to the statistical soundness of the survey designs were achieved by reducing sources of bias and increasing sampling efficiency as well as through increased coordination with partners and engagement of expert consultants.”

So, for general use, the scientists seem to believe that the federal fishery data is pretty good.

In order to make the Marine Recreational Information Program better at estimating red snapper landings, the Gulf Coast states worked with NMFS to develop localized surveys that would supplement MRIP and allow it to produce more timely estimates of red snapper landings.  Florida developed its Gulf Reef Fish Survey.  Alabama developed Snapper Check.  Mississippi developed Tails ‘n Scales, while Louisiana developed LA Creel.

All were certified by NMFS, and all were intended to allow MRIP to estimate recreational red snapper landings soon after such landings occurred.  Once each survey’s estimates were converted into a “common currency” with the estimates produced by MRIP, such estimates could be integrated into the overall red snapper management program.

Only Texas failed to develop a catch estimate program that would work with MRIP, and make it possible to provide timely red snapper estimates.  Instead, Texas continued to rely on its archaic Marine Recreational Fishing Survey, that was developed in 1974. 

It’s hard to find much information on the Internet about the Texas survey which, perhaps, isn’t surprising, given that the term “Internet” wasn’t yet heard when the survey was developed; back then, computer input was generally provided by punch cards and magnetic tape; neither laptops, desktops, nor direct keyboard entry were yet being used.

What little information is available reveals that the Texas survey reaches people who wade, fish from the bank or from piers, or launch boats at public ramps.  Anglers fishing on boats that depart from private marinas or docks—which might logically include most of the larger boats capable of running out to federal waters in search of red snapper—do not seem to be directly surveyed.  The Texas survey breaks the year down into two six-month periods, and annual landings estimates are not available for six months after year-end.

The National Academy of Sciences report that reviewed MRIP also briefly touched on the Texas Marine Recreational Fishing Survey, saying in part

“A full review of the Texas Marine Sport Harvest Monitoring Program is beyond the scope of this report.  However, based on a presentation to the committee about the survey and on discussions with regional partners and stakeholders it is questionable whether the estimates produced by Texas are comparable to those of the MRIP.  At the very least, it is highly advisable that the Texas survey be reviewed by an independent panel so that its applicability to regional fisheries assessment and management can be objectively assessed.”

That’s the academically polite way to say that the Texas survey data is suspect at best, and probably not very good, at least when compared to federal data.

Yet the CCA has the gall to rely on the Texas red snapper data, complain that the feds' data is bad, and apparently argue  that, because the federal and Texas data conflict, it’s the federal data that must be wrong.  

If the CCA is so concerned about accurate red snapper data, it should be working to have the Texas survey program reviewed as rigorously as the National Academy of Sciences has already reviewed MRIP.

But don’t expect that to happen, because the CCA almost certainly knows that, if it did, the Texas survey would be found badly wanting.

So much for the feds having bad data...

As far as greed goes, CCA's allegation is not merely hypocritical, it is just plain dumb.  After all, what would federal fishery managers gain from knowingly misrepresenting the health of the red snapper resource?  Neither the agency budget nor any agency employees profit when data shows that anglers exceeded their red snapper quota.  No one on the federal side receives any sort of bonus or commission for restricting recreational snapper landings.  For greed to exist, the greedy must thirst from some sort of reward.

For federal managers, no such reward exists.

The same, however, cannot be said for the Coastal Conservation Association; its members would surely benefit, at least in the short term, if anglers were allowed to kill more red snapper.

That’s why CCA has long sought to have the red snapper allocation changed to favor the recreational sector.  Sport Fishing Magazine reported CCA arguing that

“Any number of studies show that the greatest economic benefits to the nation are achieved by shifting allocation to the recreational sector, but our access to the best red snapper fishing ever is still shackled by 30-year old data.”

The same CCA greed led them to bring a legal action challenging NMFS’ decision to award the for-hire sector its own allocation of red snapper, after excessive private boat catches within state waters led to a federal red snapper season so short that the for-hire vessels were almost completely shut out of the fishery.

But perhaps the greatest example of CCA greed occurred when it, and other members of the Center for Sportfishing Policy, convinced then Secretary of Commerce Wilbur Ross to reopen the recreational red snapper fishery in the Gulf of Mexico, even though it was clear that such reopening would inevitably lead to anglers overfishing their red snapper quota.

With a record like that, the CCA should think twice before calling anyone, much less federal fishery managers, greedy.

They should also take a long look in the mirror before complaining that NMFS has a “long history of…politics.”

Convincing the Secretary of Commerce to wrongfully reopen the recreational red snapper season was about as pure an act of politics as one may commit.

And the Coastal Conservation Association is all about convincing politicians to legislate in their favor.  Its website showcases its “advocacy team,” which includes a federal lobbyist.  That lobbyist has been very active promoting CCA-supported bills such as the so-called Modern Fish Act,  the badly misnamed Gulf of Mexico Red Snapper Conservation Act, the Gulf States Red Snapper Management Authority Act, and the so-called RED SNAPPER Act, all of which were designed to undercut federal management of red snapper, shift management to the Gulf states, or generally weaken federal fishery laws applicable to the recreational sector

Given that sort of political activity, to complain that NOAA Fisheries had a “history of…politics,” although what such history might be was never made clear, is ludicrous.

But that describes the Coastal Conservation Association, an organization that seems to exist solely to air its grievances with a federal fishery management system that’s doing its best conserve and manage the nation’s marine resources, including Gulf red snapper, from those such as the CCA who will never fail to stoop to the depths of hypocrisy in their efforts to win a bigger recreational kill.

As they sit in their Houston offices, lobbing baseless accusations at federal fishery managers, the folks at CCA fail to look inward, to examine themselves and their record on fisheries issues.

If they did, they might finally understand why Texans in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ARE YOU WILLING TO DO WHAT IT TAKES TO REBUILD STRIPED BASS?

We’ve all heard the saying, “No pain, no gain,” and in fisheries management, that’s certainly true.  The only way to rebuild overfished stocks is to reduce fishing mortality.  That means killing fewer fish, and to do that, every fisherman will have to give up something.

As I noted in last Thursday’s edition of One Angler’s Voyage, it’s very likely that, in order to rebuild the striped bass stock by 2029, as the management plan requires and many anglers called for in last spring’s hearings, very restrictive regulations will have to be imposed on the striped bass fishery. 

While the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission’s Atlantic Striped Bass Plan Development Team has clearly stated that the fishing mortality rate that will be needed to rebuild the stock may or may not be lower than the current fishing mortality target, that statement shouldn’t raise false hopes about the measures needed to meet the 2029 deadline.  At the August 2019 meeting of the ASMFC’s Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board, Max Appelman, then the Commission’s Fishery Management Plan Coordinator for striped bass, stated that the 18% fishing mortality reduction that Addendum VI to Amendment 6 to the Atlantic Striped Bass Interstate Fishery Management Plan was expected to achieve would probably rebuild the striped bass stock by 2033, subject to the usual caution that predicting events so far in the future is always subject to substantial uncertainty.

Given that statement, which was made before New Jersey and Maryland were granted concessions, in the form of “conservation equivalent” management measures, that substantially reduced the likelihood that Addendum VI would achieve its goals, it seems fairly certain that, in order to rebuild the striped bass stock by 2029, both commercial and recreational management measures will have to be significantly more restrictive than those in effect today.

Mr. Appelman’s comments about a 2033 rebuilding date also assumed that there would be average recruitment of young bass into the population during the recruitment period; at least one of the options being considered by the Plan Development Team would assume a low recruitment rate, reflecting the low recruitment observed during most recent years.  Such low recruitment assumption could only result in management measures that are even more restrictive than they would have to be under an average recruitment scenario.

While we can’t yet predict all of the rebuilding scenarios will ultimately appear in the Draft Amendment 7 to the Interstate Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Striped Bass that the Management Board ultimately approves and releases for public comment, it is pretty well settled that Option A, which provides for rebuilding by 2029 while assuming average recruitment, and Option B, which maintains the 2029 deadline but assumes low recruitment, will be part of that document. Once the draft amendment is approved for public comment, it will be up to the stakeholders to tell the Management Board exactly what sort of rebuilding plan they want to see.

But before they address the Management Board, stakeholders all need to take a long look into their mirrors, and ask themselves just what sort of sacrifice they’re willing to make in order to rebuild the stock by 2029.

It’s easy to talk about “doing what’s right for the resource,” and “doing whatever is necessary to rebuild the striped bass,” even if that means a 10-year moratorium on all striped bass harvest. 

It’s even easier to conserve someone else’s fish, and rebuild the striped bass on the backs of any user group except your own. 

That makes it easy for some recreational folks to demand that the commercial fishery be shut down, and for private boat and surf fishermento point fingers at the charter and party boats, and blame them for the striped bass’ problems—even though they account for only a small portion of striped bass fishing mortality, and an even smaller portion of directed striped bass trips.  

It's just as easy for a catch-and-release angler to call for more restrictive size limits, that make it harder to keep a bass.

Even the calls for a 10-year moratorium aren’t as altruistic as they might, at first, appear.  After all, about 90 percent of all bass caught by anglers are already released, meaning that a viable recreational fishery, and a viable recreational fishing industry, could still be maintained during the moratorium years.  On the other hand, the commercial striped bass fishery must harvest fish to survive.  Thus, it should come as no surprise that Stripers Forever, which originally proposed such a moratorium last spring, has long tried to outlaw the commercial striped bass fishery.  In that light, it’s not hard to view the moratorium proposal as merely a backhanded way to put the commercial bass fishermen out of business, so that anglers could have all the striped bass—and 100 percent of the renewed striped bass harvest—for themselves once any such moratorium finally ended.

So the important question going into the debate isn’t what anglers are willing to force others to give up in order to rebuild the fishery, but what THOSE ANGLERS are  willing to surrender in order to have a healthy striped bass stock.

Last spring, we learned that  many anglers weren’t willing to give up pork rind, rigged eels, or eelskin plugs, in order to reduce the number of striped bass that die after being released. 

While I agree with those who said that such restrictions were unnecessary, and would probably make not materially affect release mortality, I also feel that anglers’ refusal to make even those simple sacrifices was a public relations mistake that may have caused fishery managers to question anglers’ willingness to accept other measures needed to rebuild the stock.  Anyone listening to the October Management Board meeting should have noted that anglers’ opposittion to circle hook rules that might have required them to substitute artificial trailers for authentic pork rind, or forego using eelskin plugs, made a big impression on state fishery managers, who were largely unwilling to even consider other gear restrictions, such as requiring barbless hooks, which might have had a real impact on release mortality, in order to avoid more angler pushback.

More recently, my support for management measures that wouldrequire large bass—say, fish of 40 inches or more—to be released withoutremoving them from the water was criticized, because such requirement could endanger surfcasters who were fishing from exposed positions when waves ran perilously high.

I have no desire to put anyone’s lives or health at risk.  But if folks really want to rebuild the striped bass stock, shouldn’t they be willing to forego going fishing on days when conditions don’t allow in-water release?

After all, if someone hauls a big bass onto a jetty, riprap or rocky ledge in order to unhook it, perhaps banging the bass up on the stones along the way, the odds are pretty good that the fish will need some help if it is survive the experience.  So, if high surf makes in-water release too dangerous, wouldn’t it also be too dangerous for the angler to crouch at the water’s edge, perhaps for many minutes, to revive the bass before setting it free? 

Fishing under conditions too hostile to allow a proper, survivable release seems somehow inconsistent with a desire to quickly and effectively rebuild the striped bass stock.

So what are most anglers willing to give up?

Are they willing to give up season?

Anglers are responsible for most striped bass fishing mortality, accounting for 90 percent of the total in 2017.  Recreational release mortality is the largest single component of fishing mortality, comprising 48 percent of such mortality in 2017 and 54 percent in 2020. Thus, any management measure likely to lead to more released bass, and so to increased release mortality, is not going to be attractive to managers.  

On the other hand, as has already been discussed by both the Plan Development Team and the Management Board with respect to the pending Draft Amendment 7 to the Interstate Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Striped Bass, a closed season, which allows striped bass to be neither harvested nor targeted, would not contribute to release mortality, as there would be no fishing effort to generate releases.

But, while such a season would probably be the best option from the bass’ standpoint, it has been disfavored by most fishery managers for an unfortunate reason:  Many fishermen probably won't obey it, and it would become an enforcement nightmare.  Anglers would continue fishing for bass while claiming to be targeting bluefish, weakfish, or some other species, and would continue generating continued release mortality.  At last October’s Management Board meeting, Michael Armstrong, the Massachusetts fishery manager, noted that

“As long as you have bluefish in the water, you are fishing for striped bass.”

So it appears that, while many anglers may claim to care about striped bass, they may not care enough to stop fishing for them, even if such abstinence is good for the striped bass and required by regulation. 

Fishery managers know that quite well.

Hopefully, when the ASMFC’S Striped Bass Technical Committee and Plan Development Team finish their work, the rebuilding proposals will allow a reasonable level of angling, and some retention, too.  Hopefully, the rebuilding proposals will be something that anglers can live with.  But a six-year rebuilding timeline, that assumes a low-recruitment regime, is almost certainly going to lead to some very strict rules.

So it’s time for anglers to begin to think about what sort of regulations they are willing to live with, and what they are not.  It is time for many of them to decide whether they really want the Management Board to do whatever it takes to rebuild the stock by 2029, as so many have said, or whether their words were just bluster.

Because the Plan Development Team seems to be headed in exactly the right direction although, truth be told, we’re not going to know where that direction is likely to take us for a few more weeks.  We might be looking at rebuilding measures that are just a little more restrictive than the measures currently in place, or we might be looking at a complete fishery closure.

Right now, there is no way to know for sure.

But this could be one of those times when the old warning, “Be careful what you ask for, because you might get it,” applies.

Personally, I’m willing to stand by the science, the bass, and the 2029 deadline, wherever that stand might lead.

But then again, I was also willing to surrender my pork rind.

What about you?

 

 

 

 

THE FIRST, SMALL STEPS TOWARD STRIPED BASS REBUILDING

Last Tuesday, the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission’s Atlantic Striped Bass Plan Development Team met to discuss the next iteration of the Draft Amendment 7 to the Interstate Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Striped Bass, which draft is likely to be reviewed, and very possibly released for public comment, when the Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board next meets during the week of January 24, 2022.

Due to a conflicting conference call, I was unable to listen in on most of the PDT meeting.

I wasn’t able to hear the discussions, if any were held, about the management triggers, or protecting the 2015 year class, nor did I hear how the PDT might have addressed conservation equivalency or reducing recreational release mortality.

But I was able to catch the final, and to my way of thinking, most important discussion:  How to rebuild the striped bass stock.  While that discussion was very preliminary, and merely erected the sparsest skeleton of a plan that will have to be fleshed out over the next couple of months, what little was said makes me believe that the PDT is trying to move things in the right direction.

The discussion began with a slide that laid out the options, as discussed at last month’s Management Board meeting.  It read

“Rebuilding Plan Options

·        “Option A status quo: Implement management measures designed to achieve F target as calculated in the 2022 assessment update.  F target is calculated to achieve the SSB target in the long term.

·        “Requirement (implied status quo): Achieve SSB target by 2029.

·        “Option B: Implement management measures designed to achieve F rebuild under the low recruitment assumption as calculated in the 2022 assessment update.  F rebuild is calculated to achieve the SSB target by 2029 using the low recruitment regime assumption.

·        “Other options?

“--F rebuild under average recruitment (typical assessment assumption)

“Others?

“Note: F rebuild may or may not be lower than F target”

Given the Management Board instructions to the PDT, that’s about what I had expected to see.  Options A and B reflected specific scenarios described in the Board’s motion to initiate the rebuilding plan, and since that motion didn’t limit possible options to just the two that it mentioned, the “Other options” line was not out of place.

If that initial slide formed the framework for the rebuilding plan, and the foundation for the PDT’s later work, I would not have been displeased, even though it clearly set the stage for a long and probably difficult effort on the part of rebuilding advocates, to keep the Management Board from backsliding.

But as things turned out, the initial slide led to a productive discussion, in which Max Appelman, who now represents the National Marine Fisheries Service on the Management Board, but was formerly the ASMFC’s Fishery Management Plan Coordinator for Atlantic Striped Bass, expressed a view of the status quo different from what the slide portrayed.

Mr. Appleman stated that, in his view, the status quo included the Management Board’s obligation to rebuild the currently overfished female spawning stock biomass to its target level by 2029, as required by Amendment 6 to the Interstate Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Striped Bass.  He went on to state that the fishing mortality target, referred to as “F target” in the slide’s “Option A,” doesn’t form a part of the contemplated rebuilding plan, which is all about restoring the spawning stock biomass to its target within the specified timeline.

Such comment probably didn’t come as a surprise to anyone familiar with Mr. Appelman’s work as Fishery Management Plan Coordinator.  Unlike his predecessor, Michael Waine, who actively and successfully tried to convince the Management Board not to initiate a 10-year rebuilding plan back in 2014, despite Amendment 6’s clear requirement that it do so, Mr. Appelman properly and repeatedly reminded the Board of its rebuilding obligation after the 2019 stock assessment revealed that the striped bass was overfished.

Still, it was good to hear him remind everyone of that obligation.

It was also good to see that, as a result of his comments, the slide’s Option A was changed to read

“Option A: Requirement (implied status quo):  Achieve SSB target by 2029.  F rebuild is calculated to achieve the SSB target by 2029 using the average recruitment assumption.  [emphasis added]”

That’s a significant change.  Instead of merely trying to hold  fishing mortality to the target level—something that the Management Board has historically failed to do, largely because it repeatedly adopted management measures that, at best, were as likely to fail as succeed—and hope that the spawning stock biomass would, at some uncertain point in the future, return to its target as a result, the new Option A language recognizes the Management Board’s clear duty to rebuild the stock by 2029.

Given the recent spate of below-average recruitment, it’s easy to criticize the “average recruitment assumption” part of Option A, but every management plan must contain a status quo option.  In any event, by the time the rebuilding plan goes into effect, the Management Board will have had yet another year of recruitment figures to consider, and if the Marylandjuvenile abundance index is as bad in 2022 as it was in 2019, 2020, and 2021(and in 2012, 2013, and 2016 as well), we can only hope that it will see the wisdom of assuming low recruitment during the rebuilding years, too.

The problem, of course, is that no one can predict what the Management Board will ultimately do.  Based on its past performance, it’s not unreasonable to expect it to try to find some way to wiggle out of some or all of its rebuilding obligations, particularly if faced with extremely onerous rebuilding requirements.

And that's probably what it will face.

While the Plan Development Team went out of its way to note that “F rebuild may or may not be lower than F target," it is very likely that, in order to rebuild the stock in only six years—Amendment 7’s management measures are expected to take effect in 2023 so, despite the Mr. Appelman warning, back in 2019, that “the clock is ticking,” the Management Board chose to squander at least 3 years of rebuilding time—the measures needed to get the job done will be very restrictive, particularly under the assumption that current low recruitment will continue through the rebuilding years. 

Simon Brown, a PDT representative from Maryland commented that rebuilding the stock by the 2029 deadline, under a low recruitment scenario, could very well require a negative fishing mortality rate, which is obviously impossible to achieve.  Even assuming that Mr. Brown’s comment was an intentional exaggeration, it nonetheless expressed a core truth:  Achieving rebuilding by 2029 is going to be very, very hard.

It is probably going to be so hard, and will probably require such stringent restrictions, that I expect the usual conservation skeptics on the Management Board—representatives from New Jersey, Maryland, Delaware, and the Potomac River Fisheries Commission—to make every effort to defeat, or at least water down, the rebuilding plan.

And I expect it to be so hard that some, and perhaps many, Management Board members who have so far supported rebuilding to have second thoughts not about the need to rebuild, but about the 2029 deadline and/or the low recruitment assumptions.

The Plan Development Team has already designated a rebuilding plan that includes the 2029 deadline, but assumes average recruitment, as “Option A,” so we know that will be part of the draft amendment that the PDT presents to the Management Board.  I’m certain that some Board members, trying to seek a middle ground, will support that option over Option B’s low recruitment scenario, argue that no one can be certain that low recruitment will continue throughout the rebuilding years, and also raise the point that assuming average recruitment is the norm in most stock assessments and management plans.

I’ll also be very surprised if we don’t hear at least a few Management Board members contend that the ten-year rebuilding period should begin in 2023, when the management measures are implemented, and not in 2019, when the stock was declared overfished. 

But for those are debates for another day.

What matters right now is that the Plan Development Team seems to be making a good faith effort to craft a rebuilding plan that will get the job done by 2029.  For that effort, they deserve thanks and support, even though we all know that the real fight looms early next year, when the Management Board has its say.

ARE WESTERN ATLANTIC BLUEFIN TUNA FINALLY ON THE RIGHT TRACK?

 I haven’t killed a bluefin tuna since 2006, and that one was an accident.  We were trolling south of Fire Island Inlet at the time, when a small bluefin, probably from the big 2003 year class, came up right behind the spreader bar splashing on the third wave, and gulped the trailing Green Machine down into its gills. 

Fortunately, that tuna, though small, was a couple of inches over the minimum size, so I bled it out, tossed it on ice, and headed home.  With the one bluefin bag limit that was in force back then, I didn’t want to risk deep-hooking a second fish that, although mortally harmed, would nevertheless have to be returned to the sea.

I haven’t often targeted bluefin tuna since, because the Western Stock—that is, the bluefin that spawn in the Gulf of Mexico, as opposed to the Eastern Stock, which spawns in the Mediterranean Sea—has been badly delpted, and it didn’t feel right to kill them when the population was in bad shape.  For most of that time, I haven’t even engaged in catch-and-release, as I’ve had little desire to have to keep another exhaused or seriously injured fish.

A lot of people believe that there are plenty of bluefin around, and to them I will say two things:  First, I'm primarily concerned about the health of the Western Stock, and from what I understand, a lot of the school, large school, and medium bluefin that we’ve seen in recent years (including the 200-plus-pound stuff that set up east of New York Harbor last summer) are probably Eastern Stock fish, which frequently cross the Atlantic to feed off our shores, with a lesser number of Western Stock tuna mixed among them. 

Take a look at where the stock was in the 1950s, 1960s, and even early 1970s, compared where it is today, if you want to get an idea of what a truly healthy Western Stock looks like.

The shifting baseline syndrome is very real.

But there is some good news being reported by the biologists at the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas.

The latest ICCAT stock assessment indicates that the biomass of Western Stock bluefin tuna has been slowly but steadily increasing for the past 15 years, and that the recruitment of young fish into the population has also increased over the last few seasons.

Having said that, there are still a lot of unknowns clouding the recent assessment, which

“cautions that conclusions from the latest assessment, using data through to 2020, do not capture the full degree of uncertainty in the assessments and projections and an independent review recommended against using it for management advice.  The various major contributing factors to uncertainties include mixing between the stocks, recruitment, age composition, age at maturity, the possibility of regime shifts, assumptions regarding selectivity, and indices of abundance…  [internal reference omitted]”

The very fact that the results of the new stock assessment, which show a slowly rebuilding stock and increased recruitment, contrast sharply with those of the 2017 stock assessment and 2020 update, which predicted a decline in abundance and low recent recruitment, provide reasons to proceed with caution.

The single issue of stock mixing, of how many of the fish caught in the western Atlantic were spawned there, and how many derive from the Eastern Stock, could easily distort estimates of Western Stock health if biologists get it wrong.  As noted in a 2017 paper, “Modeling the implications of stock mixing and life history uncertainty of Atlantic bluefin tuna,” published in the Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences,

“The definition of a fish stock and the spatial delineation of the management unit boundaries establish the spatial framework through which we assess the status of fishery resources and implement management strategies.  Mismatch in the geographic scale of a fish’s life cycle and its management units (i.e., “stocks”) can have profound implications for the accuracy of stock assessment and the effectiveness of fishery management…Stock mixing violates the ‘unit stock’ assumption that underlies many management approaches…mixed stock data can confound indices of abundance, catch estimates, characterization of life history parameters (e.g., growth, maturity-at-age), and stock-recruit relationships.”

If managers overestimate the proportion of Western Stock fish in the population, then quotas are likely to be set too high, and the stock is likely to decline as regulations suited to a more abundant Eastern Stock cause too many Western Stock fish to be killed.  

Biologists have devised ways to measure oxygen isotopes in the otoliths, or “ear bones” of bluefin tuna, and use those measurements to assign such fish to one of the two stocks; population models that make various assumptions about stock mix have also been developed.  Yet ICCAT biologists are not completely comfortable that their estimates accurately reflect the true mix.

The estimates made with respect to stock mixing will also affect the estimates of things such as the age at maturity, since Eastern Stock bluefin are estimated to be fully mature when between just 3 and 5 years old, while Western Stock fish are thought not to mature until between 8 and 12 years old, although some scientists argue for earlier maturities, and the latest assessment of the Western Stock considers both early and late maturity scenarios. 

Estimates of the age composition of the stocks, in turn, are made by sampling the proportion of fish caught in various fisheries.  The recent stock assessment assumes that such fisheries tend to catch a larger proportion of one size of tuna compared to others, something that biologists refer to as “domed selectivity.”  In such situations, older, larger fish manage to evade the fishing gear more successfully than do smaller, younger individuals, and biologists would be wrong to assume that the lack of older fish appearing in landings translates to a lack of such older fish in the bluefin population.

Previous Western Stock bluefin assessments assumed that all sizes and ages of tuna were proportionately represented in the fisheries’ landings, and thus estimated that the biomass was smaller than did the most recent stock assessment, with its dome-shaped selectivity curve, which found more older, larger bluefin in the population.  As a result of assuming domed selectivity, the new assessment set its proxy for maximum sustainable yield about 35 percent higher than it would have otherwise.

The problem with assuming a dome-shaped selectivity curve is that by doing so, biologists assume the presence of “cryptic fish,” also referred to as “ghost fish,” that have been evidenced through a mathematical model, and not through more tangible evidence.  There is always the possibility that the biologists’ assumption is incorrect, that the fisheries do not really select for a particular age and size of fish, and that the reason that older, larger fish are not being caught is because they do not exist in appreciable numbers.  There is also a possibility, as the biologists’ latest report to ICCAT acknowledges, that some fisheries exhibit domed selectivity, while others do not, a possibility that, due to time constraints, was not explored.

Since most of the increase in the estimate of the maximum sustainable yield proxy is attributable to the assumption of domed selectivity, if such assumption is wrong, overfishing could easily occur.

Thus, it is difficult to know what to make of the latest bit of seeming good news about Western Stock bluefin.  The news seems to be encouraging, yet there is a lot of uncertainty inherent in the models which, after all, an outside reviewer found to be not “suitable for management advice.”

For my part, I see enough reason for hope in the ICCAT report that I’ll probably be actively targeting bluefin again next season.

At the same time, I’ll probably end up releasing just about all of the bluefin that I catch, provided that they appear healthy enough to survive the experience.  Caution must still be the watchword.

For I still firmly believe that when fishery data is, for any reason and to any degree, ambiguous, such ambiguity should be resolved in favor of the fish, not the fisherman, just in case the managers got something wrong.

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NOTE:  I’d like to take the opportunity to thank the American Saltwater Guides Association for publishing their recent bluefin blog, which provided the inspiration for this essay

 

 

 

CAMERAS KILL

 A few nights ago, my wife and I were having dinner with a couple we hadn’t seen since before the COVID pandemic blew up early last year.  I had known the other guy for quite a few years—from back in ’95 when a bunch of us tried to convince New York State not to liberalize its striped bass regulations too much or too soon.  He was a passionate and very capable surfcaster back then, and over the years has caught three or four over 50 from the beach, one of which might—probably would— have broken the 60-pound mark if it had been killed and put on a good scale instead of released.

He doesn’t fish the surf quite as aggressively now as he did in those years, but he still spends some time on the beach, and as we talked, he began talking about something he saw that bothered him quite a bit.

He had been fishing a Long Island inlet, and released a couple of bass, when quitting time came along.  As he was headed off the beach, something in the wash caught his eye.  It turned out to be a dead bass in the 40-pound range that hadn’t been dead for long.  He described it as “fresh as a daisy.”

It’s impossible to know how that fish died.  Fresh in the wash, it’s likely that it was caught and released by a surfcaster, although the possibility that it was caught in a boat, and died sometime after release can’t be discounted.  Maybe someone ignored the circle hook rules, and gut-hooked it on a chunk of bait, or engaged in some illegal snag-and-drop.

But if I had to bet, whether the fish was caught from beach or boat, I’d put my money on a camera being the instrument of that striper’s demise.

Because cameras kill.

It’s impossible to say how much it happens during the year, but the incidents aren’t rare:  Someone hooks a nice bass, and after an extended fight—just how extended depending on the gear used—the fish finally comes to hand, tired, its gills pulsing as it tries to drive oxygen into its blood.  At that point, it’s dragged out of the water, and…

“Hey, get the camera, I want a picture of this one…”

“Where is it?”

“It’s over there in the bag…Just use your phone…”

“OK, wait…I’ve got it over here, where it won’t get wet…

“Hold it up…OK…Got it…But that might not be good, better take another one…Hold your arms out some more…”

All the time, the bass’ gills are still working, futilely striving to draw wisps of oxygen out of the air.

“Maybe I ought to wash the sand [or blood, or whatever else] off, and take another one…”

“Got it…That’s good…You can let it go.”

“It’s not swimming too good.”

“Just move it around in the water to get some in its gills…Yeah, that’s pretty good.”

And then, as the released fish wobbles into the sea, moving slowly and not always upright,

“It’s swimming away…Yeah, it should live.”

And maybe it will, but the odds are pretty good that it won’t, and that at some point over the next couple of minutes, couple of hours, or couple of days, the “successfully released” bass will succumb to delayed mortality, and end up feeding the crabs and the gulls.  

The obsession with photographing just about every decent-sized bass before release is something that I’ve never understood.  For a novice angler, OK, he or she is excited, and wants to record the moment when a big fish is finally at hand.  But after spending some time and catching some fish, what’s the point of the photograph?  After all, the angler knows what they caught; they have the memories, and hopefully have grown enough confidence as a fisherman that they don’t need to seek others’ approval.

Taking pictures of a fish—bass or any other—that are killed and taken home is one thing, but risking the death of a fish that is later released, just to take a photo, is unacceptable behavior.

Released striped bass have a better chance of survival if they are hooked in the mouth rather than in the gut, and if they are fought on tackle heavy enough to bring them to hand quickly.  The State of Connecticut offers a number of suggestions to increase survival, including

“Ideally, keep the fish in the water to reduce stress and the potential for injury.  [emphasis added]”

“If a fish must be removed from the water, handle it as little as possible, and release it quickly.”

“If you need to lift a striped bass, hold it horizontally by gripping the lower jaw and supporting its weight under the belly.”

“Avoid touching the eyes and gills.”

None of those are compatible with the typical striped bass photo.

In just about all of them, the fish is out of the water.  The very act of taking the photo keeps the fish out of the water longer than it would be if merely unhooked and released.  While some show anglers holding bass horizontally, as they should, far too many show the fish in the traditional pose, hanging from the angler’s hand on its jaw or, far worse, shoved into its gills.

Yet, particularly in this age of social media show-and-tell, an unfortunately large number of anglers feel the need to demonstrate their prowess by posting photos of fish handled in just that fashion, without knowing and/or without caring that their actions are killing fish.

It's not unusual for photos posted by charter boats to show multiple above-the-slot-limit bass being held by multiple anglers at the same time.  It’s highly unlikely that all of those fish came aboard at exactly the same time; more likely, after a multiple hookup, the first fish landed was left on the deck until the last one came aboard, the pictures were taken, and the fish returned to the water, where some do and many don’t survive.

But a few dead bass are a price that many are willing to pay to promote their charter businesses.

Such irresponsible fish handling, born out of an obsession for photographs, is largely the fault of the angler, but regulators need to accept some responsibility, too.

When the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission’s Atlantic Striped Bass Management Board adopted Addendum VI to Amendment 6 to the Atlantic Striped Bass Interstate Fishery Management Plan in 2019, it ignored the majority of comments made by stakeholders, who preferred a 35-inch minimum size, and instead decided that a 28- to 35-inch slot limit was the best way to reduce recreational fishing mortality. 

While Amendment VI accounts for the release mortality of out-of-slot fish, such release mortality is calculated at the generally accepted 9% rate, which has been largely validated in studies conducted by at least three different states.  However, in those state studies, while striped bass were hooked, landed, and released by researchers who handled fish in approximately the same manner that anglers would, in none of them were the larger bass held out of the water for extended periods, in various positions, while the researcher posed for photos.

There is little doubt that, if such photo sessions were added to the next release mortality study, the mortality rate would go up.  That’s something that wasn’t considered when Addendum VI was adopted.

The ASMFC had a chance to correct that omission while preparing the initial draft of the pending Amendment 7 to the Interstate Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Striped Bass.  Unfortunately, the Plan Development Team decided not to include an option that would have required larger bass to be released without removing them from the water. 

In omitting that option, the Plan Development Team reasoned that people would need to measure fish to determine whether they fell into the slot, or were too large and must be released, and such measuring would require the fish to be taken out of the water.  The problem was that the PDT wasn’t creative enough in its thinking; it would have been a simple matter to require all bass over, say, 40 or 42 inches to be released in the water, while allowing smaller fish to be measured in a boat or on land.  A 5- or a 7-inch gap between the top end of the slot and the minimum size for in-water release would have left plenty of margin for error, while still requiring the biggest—and most likely to be photographed—fish to be kept wet throughout the release process.

The PDT was also concerned that in-water release would increase the chance that anglers would be injured while letting bass go, but that’s likely an overwrought fear.  After all, the National Marine Fisheries Service already requires the in-water release of recreationally-caught tuna, sharks, and billfish, and such fish are certainly larger, more difficult to handle, and caught in far rougher seas than a big, but toothless and docile, striped bass.

Thus, the responsibility falls solely on anglers to do the right thing.

And in the case of the already overfished striped bass, the right thing means handling every fish in a way that maximizes its survival and its future contribution to the spawning stock.

That means saying no to cameras, unless used to photograph the fish in the water during the course of a speedy release.

For if used any other way, cameras will just keep on killing the very big female bass that we can least afford to lose.