Friday, June 21, 2019

An Inshore Lobsterman's Year in Review

Before leaving Peter Prybot's memoir Lobstering off Cape Ann, please enjoy some excerpts from the chapter "An Inshore Lobsterman's Year in Review" accompanied by my illustrative photographs from Halibut Point.

Spring

            By early April the first diatom bloom occurs, and millions of microscopic green glittering primary producers briefly turn the navy-blue waters of winter green, only to bust by a combination of being grazed upon by zooplankton and depleting the nutrients in the water themselves.

            Then knotted wrack or rockweed, Ascophyllum nodosum, "goes spawny" along the rocky shoreline's intertidal zone. During this roughly month-long process, which usually begins in mid-to-late March, the algae's olive-colored fronds turn a slimy brown, and their tips' yellow receptacles first swell up and then break away, soon releasing gametes for the future generations.


            Animal harbingers catch my eye, too. Late March is announced by the white specks of once-planktonic barnacle larvae suddenly settling on new fixed and floating homes--especially buoys, traps and rocks.

            Suddenly catching good numbers of two- to five-inch-long rock eels and cunners in the traps again also tell me it's spring. These fish then move inshore and become active again....A bottom water temperature above fifty degrees Fahrenheit, often felt in May, seems to trigger the cunner movements. Usually the spring lobster run is not too far away.


            The final spring harbinger, the April departure of most of those cute but pesky and pilfering harbor, grey and hooded seas to more northern waters, is welcomed by Cape Ann lobstermen. Some three hundred seals winter on the Big and Little Salvages, the rocky outcroppings and ledges about three miles off of Rockport.

Summer

            Much happens between this season's June arrival and September departure. The marine ecosystem's productivity machine makes hay while the sun shines under ideal conditions of abundant light, food and warmth. Flora and fauna grow, build up their body reserves, and multiply as new generations hatch and old ones die.


            Other lobstermen, along with recreational fishermen and boaters' activities on the crowded inshore grounds, cause tension, too. You often then get set over by other lobstermen's gear, making it hard to pull up your traps. Fishing inside this time of year can get to be downright "seagull," as everyone vies for the tight inshore grounds, much like seagulls diving for food on the beach.


            Another late summer biological occurrence, the shoreline, coves and harbors teeming with huge schools of migrating two-to-three-inch-long menhaden or pogies....These silvery fry hug the shallows, sometimes swimming amongst the rockweed at high tide, in a vain attempt to escape predators like voracious pollock, mackerel, bass and bluefish.

Fall

            Early fall's high activity slows down dramatically by its official December 21 end. The surface water temperature often drops to the mid-fifties by the end of October, and the forties by December. The thermocline in the water column gets closer to the bottom as the cold works its way down....The fall shoreline often thunders with pummeling surf and waves.

            The dinoflagellates bloom in the fall and fire up the dark ocean. The movements of swimming fish and passing boats agitate these top-shaped single-cell microscopic organisms to luminesce.

            The catching of warm-water fishes--triggerfish, filefish, sea horses and scup--in lobster traps signals early fall. Offshore storms and hurricanes usually drive thee Cape Ann rarities into northern waters either from the Gulf Stream or up from the south.


            Early fall's inshore waters become "very active" with bluefish and striped bass as they feed, fatten and group up in preparation for their imminent southward migration. Most of the time, these fish leave Cape Ann waters in early October.


            The skies becoming peppered with vacillating flocks of migratory eiders, old squaws and scoters is a traditional September through November harbinger. These birds fly head on in great numbers, often just above the waves when the wind blows northeast. Majestic gannets move south about the same time, then are frequently seen dropping out of the sky, plunging into the ocean's surface like arrows after fall-fattened mackerel.

Winter

            Winter ends the annual seasonal cycle. The water, like the creatures that live within it, usually rests; just surviving is now the name of the game. Except when agitated by waves, the ocean water becomes very clear, sometimes down to a depth of over fifty feet. It also becomes uniformly cold or isothermal from the surface to the bottom, often hitting thirty-four to thirty-six degrees Fahrenheit. The lowest light levels and (usually) the coldest air and water temperatures slow down nature's production machine to a near halt except for the spawning activities of cod, winter flounder, herring and northern shrimp.


            By early winter the lobsterman's mind is working on relaxation despite being enveloped by this season's early-on gloom and doom ambiance created by the short days and dark mornings. I still feel pressured to earn as much as I can then, knowing the holidays and tax time are just around the corner, and every little bit helps.


            "Do I go, or don't I go?" I make this decision at home by first listening to the weather reports and then looking at my weather instruments. If there's further doubt, I'll step outdoors, glance at the tree branch movements and listen to the sound of the ocean before going to the wharf. Most of the time I'll go, preferring to get my work done early. If the ocean is too rough, you can always turn around and come home. Many other lobstermen make their last-minute decisions from their warm pickup trucks at their favorite ocean observation spots. The truck heater feels awful good on questionable days.






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