When dredging for oysters in the Chesapeake Bay, you usually don’t expected to pull up anything other much bigger than oysters, let alone a 20 pound fish. But out from our net slipped a giant wiggling Blue Catfish much to the delight (or disgust) of the group of students pulling up the net. The Snow Goose, the Chesapeake Bay Foundation’s educational vessel where Ben, Alyssa, and I were taking a group of Baltimore City students on a boating field trip, was floating over an oyster sanctuary next to Fort Carrol. The activity that was planned was to dredge for oysters in the sanctuary and compare them to store bought oysters. Then the students could see the benefits of sanctuaries like Fort Carrol and learn more about oyster anatomy. But when the catfish flopped into our bucket the perfect opportunity to talk about invasive species in the bay came with it.
Blue Catfish were introduced to the Chesapeake Bay in the 1970s. Natives of Mississippi, Missouri, Ohio, and the Rio Grande, they are usually harmless to the other species and the ecosystem. However when they were introduced to the James, Rappahannock, and York Rivers in Virginia they quickly took over the rest of the bay. The Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries originally believed that the saltier waters of the bay would stop the catfish from spreading, however this proved to be incorrect as they now inhabit every river in Maryland.
Alyssa picked up the catfish letting the students touch it as she talked to them about what invasive species were and about the Blue Catfish. Blue Catfish have three sharp venomous spines so she used gloves and held it up by it’s sides to pin down it’s fins. She then explained that instead of throwing it back in, and letting it add the steady climbing population, we would be taking it back with us. Blue Catfish can lay 3500 to 3600 eggs just per pound (and they average 20-40 pounds!) and eat almost anything in sight, so it was important not to let it go.
The population of Blue Catfish will never be irradiated, however management measures can significantly reduce its population and help protect native species like blue crab. Because of the sheer volume of fish, the Blue Catfish has become useful and profitable for waterman. People can fish primarily for Blue Catfish or when the seasons for their main species close, they can turn to Blue Catfish, as catfish don’t have any catch restrictions. Additionally the Department of Agriculture is marketing the Blue Catfish to food vendors and consumers as a delicious and sustainable meal option. They are high in protein and Omega-3 fatty acids, and the Maryland government even has a website full of Blue Catfish recipes to try including Blue Catfish dip and crackers and curried catfish with fried rice cakes.
(warning: slightly gory reflections on dealing with invasive species so you might want to put away any food)
I hadn’t really considered what people did with caught invasive species until Ben walked back onto the boat, axe in one hand, mini travel cooler in the other. I guess in some part of brain they got returned or kept of aquarium fish or something. They had both explained it to me: there was a program that awarded $30 per catfish, but they only took the heads. In the moment I was reminded of a field trip in 5th grade where we had to bait crabs with torn up fish. All of the groups were too squeamish about tearing apart the fish bodies but my obviously-incredibly-super-brave 10 year old self was unfazed. I don’t remember the tear of their flesh and bones with any real disgust. This felt different though, as the fish sat there wiggling, staring, and breathing in the plastic basin, I felt my stomach twist. I had been grappling with the idea of this kind of thing for a bit now, having just given up pescatarians and gone back to eating meat. I had kind of settled into the idea of small violence as an inherent quality of life; the cow gets slaughtered, the flesh ground up, a patty fried, and I eat a hamburger. My dad had told my sister and I that we were too separated from that process. “In India you would go to the butcher, point to the animal you wanted, and the butcher would kill it right there in front of you!”. In that moment I agreed.
I think from my awkward shifting and swallowing they could tell I was uncomfortable because Ben assured me many times I didn’t have to watch, but I shook my head and steadied myself. It was all very technical, not at all chainsaws and gore horror movie material. He explained how to kill the catfish quickly and painlessly, one blow to the center of the skull, before cutting off the head to turn in. I don’t reflect on this moment because it was traumatizing or something, I just think I came to terms with something very important. The catfish didn’t swim from Mississippi to Maryland out of its own ill intent, that’s not why we were doing this. Humans had put that catfish in the Bay 50 years ago. Our actions had consequences, and now it was our job to remedy that. Dealing with invasive species can be a bit uncomfortable, and many of them are a lot more cute and cuddly than a catfish (people were horrified by the iguana pizza and those are reptiles). But it’s important to understand that just because it’s uncomfortable doesn’t mean we can avoid doing it. Violence doesn’t have to equal cruelty if you use ethical practices. It would probably be crueler to continue letting them wreak havoc on the ecosystem at the expensive and native vulnerable species that form the basis of people’s livelihoods on the bay. And maybe my dad was right, if we all had a front row seat to the farm hitting the table maybe we’d have a little more restraint when it comes to eating meat.
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